I Understand

Once upon a time I found myself mystified by the horrors of the world. Trained to be a soldier as I grew older I found the little boy that I once was fading away. I had to grow up and accept the fact that there is a part of life hidden and once I comprehended these truths my mind became clear. I wrote this piece after watching a documentary about a soldier who I assume was battling with some very serious mental issues, but did not know where to go for help. Later on in the video she killed her daughter. I wrote this piece not because I felt she was innocent, but I wrote it for those people who are mentally ill. Having this experience myself at one point in my life it actually made me a better person. It humbled me to understand that the science of fear can rewire the brain. I am numb to the problems of the world but I wrote this piece to say I understand. I have come to learn to think for myself and to wake up everyday grateful that I have something to do, learn, and teach. I have learned that no one is perfect and we all play the fool sometimes so here’s a poem:

In darkness we cannot see but we can feel.

I understand what it’s like to be blind.

When looking at the sun I cannot see but I can feel.

I say again, I understand what it’s like to be blind.

In a car with loud music my eardrums vibrate and I cannot hear a thing.

I understand what it’s like to be deaf.

On a busy street after my car just ran out of gas and I have no money to get it fixed I begin begging for help.

I now understand.

Watching the news I see people suffering from the woes of war, I take the time to listen to the survivors problems, they’re angry, frustrated, and many of them have no where to go.

Begging for help I now understand.

I’ve come to learn why we’re here. I’ve come to understand why we do the things we do, say the things we say and feel the way we do.

I now understand.

Why out of all of God’s creation do humans feel emotions? Why do we think? Why do we feel? If we’re made by something or someone, why?

The questions are complex, but after watching a child teach me a valuable lesson, I’ve come to learn that some things are just out of our control. I now understand.

Life is a jungle that we all get lost in, it’s a street with many lanes, and a sky with many colors. It’s a world filled with both beautiful and ugly things and one person’s trash is another person’s treasure.

My war may be someone else’s story to tell and my death may bring others back to life. We’re all in one big sphere of life, some people are in 2D and some are in 3D. Some people see in black and white and some see color. In a free society some turn to religion and some turn to constructive thinking.

Even if you’ve never met me, it may not seem like it at times, but I understand, no need to fight, no need to get upset…

I understand.

The Good Friends

Peter the bird found himself grounded in someone’s yard.

“Hey, Howard, is that Peter down there?” Peter’s friend Mellisa asked as her and Howard took to the sky.

“It sure is Peter,” Howard replied.

The two birds swooped down to see why Peter was not flying in the sky on a good day.

“Peter, why are you grounded, don’t you know that this house has a cat?” Mellisa said.

Peter pointed his beak at his bad wing.

“It’s my wing Mellisa, it hurts. Thanks for checking on me.”

“That’s what friends are for Peter,” Howard explained as he and Melissa took ahold of Peter and flew him to his nest.

“Stay here Peter until you feel better. We’ll both check on you and drop you a worm until you’re back in the sky,” Mellissa said watching Peter get comfortable in his nest.

Filled with relief, Peter couldn’t help but thank his friends while dwelling on how helpless he was in a stranger’s yard. He could have been a cat’s lunch. Sometimes in life we forget the importance of friendship. In Peter’s case friendship saved his life. Sometimes that’s all it takes to get people back on the right path. When Peter got better he never forgot the friends who took the time to help him and it made the friendship even stronger.

The Good Friends

The Black Jesus

As a child I watched your people sell you into slavery.

Your God abandoned you and left you to fight for yourself.

Or did he?

I then watched as drugs and corrupted riches infected your entire bloodline, communities, jungles, and inheritance.

Who dare split you into colonialism feasting off of your rich lands?

You’ve never been called by your real name.

Left alone as your parents got drunk in late night clubs as you were left tormented alone in a room.

Left alone constantly looked upon as evil.

Never good enough, burned, hung with no hero only a song naked in a field of cotton.

Mixed up from birth as rats and vengeful animals and insects swarm around your poor household.

Left to hate, be bitter and alone.

A heathen, an infidel, a negro with no knowledge of self or love.

Read you dummy. 

Read and stick together, don’t die like me, alone on a cross.

Aborted and left for dead.

There is more to this story as you fellowship in the jungles of the world killing and betraying each other daily.

Judah, is a lion that never dies, he only gets stronger because his rage gives him enough strength to never look back.

He sits alone in the jungle knowing that without him nothing exist.

Wheezing and breathing hard after fighting the eternal fight he roars to the mountains and dies a thousand times only to keep rising.

He finds peace around all colors, he finds a home scattered in all lands.

The Black Jesus

Dive in!

What color is the water?

From space, on Earth day, you would probably say blue.

Did you know that there are a lot of people who are afraid of the water.

To dive in is a fear that many of us have.

Truly friend, the world is one big ocean.

People fleeing their country often drown in the ocean attempting to discover a new home.

It’s massive, the world is big.

Craving air, I’ve come to the conclusion that I have to leave my comfort zone.

I heard of a man complaining about dirty water, but honestly, what is clean?

I jump off of the platform.

The Earth is a sphere that makes things up from the same stuff everyday and it’s impossible for me to discover it all so to see some of it,  I dive in!

It can get a little crazy on Earth 🌍 day so just dive in!

Don’t be afraid.

Explore

Dive in!

The Sunset

The hardest part was letting go.

After cleaning and draining out the entire swamp I stood on top of a mountain alone waiting for God to tell me what to do next.

While waiting, I stood still while watching the sunset.

In the end I had to comprehend that I did nothing wrong. I was just addicted to righteousness.

God made me do it.

The Sunset

The Hostages

Chained to a cement floor I could smell the funk of burning flesh. We’d been captured by foreign terrorist. My thirst for a glass of water while feeling the sweat drip off of my dirty face I recalled my last moments in my cozy home. Scraping my fingernails against the floor, I begged for a meal, but the guard paid me no attention. In deep regret for not listening to my parents who wanted me to stay home instead of taking a foreign trip, I was now doomed. I began to scream for help. I had been in the same spot for days and all I could think of was how so many people don’t know how good they have it, even if they don’t have much. I yearned for a hot meal, I yearned to fall asleep in front of the television while my children were safe in my arms. In the distance I could hear my wife Lillian screaming for help as they tortured and raped her. Tormented already, I knew I was next. Trembling in fear I closed my eyes as they dragged my daughter into the room and tortured her right in front of me while they forced me to watch. Crumbled up in my little cell corner, they torched me with hot steam, and I couldn’t help but beg for God’s mercy as I felt flesh peeling off of my back. In numbing pain, I had no clue what they were saying. The only words that I could comprehend was America is coming. Hearing my only little girl screaming for help, the only hope I could hold on to out of all nations was America. Feeling my hand snap out of place for some odd reason I began to quote scripture, “Yea, as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me…” and here I sat, chained to a wall and cement floor on foreign lands watching them drag what was left of my daughter out of the room, I begged them to stop. Shaking uncontrollably, I had to keep asking God to help me. I had to trust in something. I had to believe that the land that I swore allegiance to would come to the rescue. My life was now in God’s hands, the words that played over and over again in my mind were, In God we Trust. Nearly lifeless, I will repeat myself, I had to trust in something, because in reality, I would never be the same.

The Hostages 

The Cleansing

At first I heard thunder.

It was like fire falling from the sky and people were screaming.

Wait, it was a little foggy in the dream, but I think they were migrating to one spot.

The screams were kind of silent, but they all looked tired and restless.

From a bird’s eye distance it looked like the land was burning.

In this reckoning, I felt like I personally had been held aside as collateral for what was yet to come.

It was as though something was telling me to watch and take records.

It was justifiable to them that I watch for they saw things through my eyes.

It was as though a force had been unleashed to cleanse souls or the earth.

After the fire stopped falling from the sky it became quiet.

Everyone, for some reason kept coming to my camp for comfort and food. 

The last thing I remember from the dream was a line of innocent people that had been spared.

Whatever or whoever was assigned to cleanse the land, the work was done—Finished, they or it showed no mercy.

I then heard the voice say, “The world is better now, smile and be happy.

Keep it clean or we will be back”.

The Cleansing

We’re still here

The flowers are still blooming, and the trees are still growing.

We’re still here.

The political climate is still hot and the Earth is still spinning.

We’re still here.

I just got into the same fight over the same bill with the same bill collector.

We’re still here.

Sissy just blew her brains out and I slipped and fell in her blood trying to save her.

We’re still here, well, at least I am, I don’t know where she is now but at least some parts of her body are still in tack.

I’m still here.

They just dropped a bomb on my best friend’s country, he’s helpless and he can’t go back.

We’re still here.

I guess the point of it all is that no matter how crazy things get, no matter how hungry you are, and no matter how bottomless the pit may seem, help is on the way.

We’re still here; just hope and pray that the help is on time because if it’s not, you may have to get yourself out of the mess that you’re in all on your own.

At least we’re still here.

The End.

The Eclipse

What is this thing that I’ve made?

Stars that shine, humans that wonder, and minds that imagine.

So what does matter?

Who sits in the center of the universe?

Everything is nothing and nothing is everything.

The truth is that there are no nations. 

There are no wins or loses, you made it all up.

There is no history.

There are no countries.

All of your wars in the end are for nothing.

As you watch an alignment between a star and a moon you are just a spec of dust in an equation that makes no sense.

Physical laws of an untamed universe.

A massive machine too big for your small mind to comprehend.

If one nation sits on one spot never to engage in war is it undefeated after its land still sits while other nations fight?

I say again, you made it all up. 

To a baby, one day is a year, and to a mother and father, pain can be pleasure after the pleasure is over. So is it the baby’s fault?

I wrap my solutions inside of a lonely man’s mind eager for an outcome. Who am I? 

At first he can appear like a fool until he gets his answer twenty years later. What was he searching for?

Be careful what you wish for.

Foolish children getting high in a room full of magical clouds.

The word whore is mentioned in the Bible just as much as the stars and the eclipse, yes, each is a marvel to comprehend to a mind eager to be good.

33rd to 360 degrees of knowledge shattered into a glowing mirror of yourself bowing to one universal law of loops and circles.

Is a common occurrence involved in a neutral phenomenon unusually attracting?

Even freaks die, ask the mortician. 

The end is the beginning for some and when you die is that too not a beginning?

Filthy minds getting high spinning in circles trying to levitate.

Unhappy people searching over and over again for complex solutions.

Soldiers falling and being trampled on taking a look at what stands between them and the sun.

Care not about what they think for they only see themselves, they’ll step on you so be careful.

And there it is, the sun, the planets, and the moon.

A solid black circle. ⚫️ 

A shadow floating across the land, and a dark, dark, silent universe where nothing exists but neon lights.

The optical illusion is gravity because in the end you all float or sink.

It’s a cycle that we all must enter.

You did not fall to the earth silly, you were born, the eclipse is just the eye in the center of your forehead that you cannot see, and if you look closely you’ll see an image of yourself falling through a dark circle into a massive ball of light.

The Eclipse 

Lisa & the Frozen Apple

Superheroes come in many different forms. This is the story about one woman’s quest to save her family’s retail chain.

“We’re going to have to file for bankruptcy and I may have to cut some jobs,” Lisa told her staff.

“But we invented the frozen apple. We’ve served the world. What happened?” Lori asked, gaining the group’s attention.

This brought tears to Lisa’s eyes as she roamed the empty store with few customers. She had flashbacks of her entire bloodline and how they gave everything to keep their stores open to serve the world.

“I have to fight,” she said taking her father’s frozen apple out of the main vault. She kindly placed it in front of the store and gave up her pay to save what was now a global brand. She told every executive of the company that they would have to surrender their pay to save the company and they did. 

Many of them took positions inside of what stores were left and some even lived inside of them to save money, they went back to old school marketing plans. The brand literally took everything they had and invested in the communities that they served. Once word got out, Lisa couldn’t believe how quickly her stores had rebounded and as many other store chains went under in struggling economic times, the Frozen Apple stood strong by not only saving their brand but also saving their communities. Lisa’s company sacrificed for the people they served and the people they served sacrificed for them. The retail chain made an amazing comeback and avoided bankruptcy. The frozen apple became more than just a store it was now a story.

The End.

Lisa & the Frozen Apple.

You’ll get used to it

I’ve been called a thousand names in the course of my lifetime.

I’m used to it.

I’ve had so many doors shut in my face.

I’m used to it.

I can’t remember when was the last time I’ve been touched romantically by a woman.

I’m used to it.

I don’t discuss politics, but I’ve heard everyone’s point of view except my own.

I’m used to it.

I’m on a fixed income and have a bus load of debt, but I think I’ve got it figured out.

I’m used to it.

I don’t talk religion and would rather prefer to think for myself at times but just this one simple subject exempts me from my own beliefs. I guess I’m not supposed to have my own beliefs.

I’m used to it.

I don’t own a gun and have never committed any harsh crimes so why am I often stereotyped.

I’m used to it.

I’ve never smoked, drank beer, or even done any drugs, that could explain why I’m always alone.

I’m used to it.

I have a college degree in Business Administration, Computer Engineering, and I’ve had the honor of working on the world’s most advanced missile system. That could be why when I hold a conversation it goes in one ear and out the other. I don’t think too many people understand what I’m saying. 

I’m used to it.

The institute where I studied shut down so I’ll never be able to get a doctorate unless I start over. 

That’s a lot of work to redo.

I’m used to it.

So if you learn anything from this piece, from a person who has had to get up every morning with the same shovel and the same load of Bull S**t.

I’m used to it.

At first it may hit you pretty hard, but after a while, you’ll get used to it.

Hunger

I know why the rich man works.

I know why the poor man begs.

I know why a loving father would steal to feed his children.

I know why people sell their souls.

Being a victim of hunger, I know I must never forget what it feels like.

Friend, this piece is food for thought, but hunger is a slow death that makes the body weak and leaves the brain with no fuel.

I have to remind you that once you forget what that feels like than you may take a break, you may waste all of your money on drugs or gambling, and you may even take comfort in fenced off communities protecting yourself from the starving poor.

After 41 years on this planet I haven’t forgotten the look on my mother’s face when we were out of food, I haven’t forgotten waiting for a check in the mail, and I haven’t forgotten being poor and out on the streets.

Brethren, I encourage you to stay hungry, only then can you feel innocent pain.

Only then will you learn where righteous strength comes from, and for those who deceive, the black crow eats flesh from road kill. He too must eat.

Purple Fertility

She’d seen her parents drunk over a thousand times.

She saw them argue one thousand more.

Sex was her vice, and after a while, her babies were everywhere, all playing with purple Easter eggs.

Their fathers were all scattered, and a story about a resurrected savior had been drilled in her head over and over again.

Deep inside of her heart she was still broken and no man ever looked her in the eyes to bear witness of her true beauty.

They called her the goddess of fertility because every week she was with a new guy bearing his child.

She’d come to accept that sex was natural, it gave her wonderful loving children.

She was never alone…

How ironic.

Purple Fertility 

Purple Eyes

I see things so clearly now.

I understand, but most of all I see reality.

Some people will love me, and some people will hate me, but I have to keep going.

I have to do this, it’s God’s will.

The light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

I have to resurrect.

Forgive them father for they know not what they do.

I see the light.

The Purple Blues

“Here I am, one thousand feet in the air, standing on top of a skyscraper, ready to give it all to you lord.

Was I born just to want to be closer to you?

Was I born to get high and never be satisfied?

Was I born to be a menace to society?

What’s the point? Am I just here to die in a dark cold world?

What do I do lord? Everything around me is falling apart. Dirty, never to be washed clean. Evil, never to be good.

Was I born to sit in front of a professionally made computer just to pleasure myself?

Was I born to smoke and drink myself into insanity?

Was I born to argue with love ones everyday?

Here I am lord, in my purple psyche ward gown ready to jump.

Ready to throw in the towel.”

“Willow, what are you doing?”

“What are you doing up her Stubbs? You won’t talk me out of this,” Willow said, while noticing her drummer Stubbs out of the corner of her eye.

“Willow, you don’t have to do this. There’s so much more to the world.”

“I’ve lost everything I love Stubbs. The world is better without me.”

“Is this really how you want to be remembered? Everyone loves being around you. You mean something to us little people, plus we can’t afford your funeral,” Stubbs explains, getting closer to Willow.

“That’s a really odd way to put it. The world is burning Stubbs. We’re crumbs to the elites. What purpose do I have?” Willow says while looking down.

“Who’s going to sing the purple blues as good as you? No one has ever heard a style like yours. You’re an angel sent here to sing the purple blues, why stop now? Why end your story as a suicide?”

Willow can’t help but to look down.

“How did you know I was up here? You were asleep.”

“An angel woke me up out of my dream and told me that you were up here. He told me to save you,” Stubbs explained.

Willow begins to look up.

“An angel?” She says curiously, noticing all of their instruments set up on the roof.

The rest of the band gathered on the rooftop and there was Willow’s famous harp. Pete began to play his trumpet. She then noticed the spirit of her father when he used to teach her how to play.

“This is your weapon, Willow, as a part of the army of God you must defend and save innocent lives by playing this harp even when no one’s around, the dead can hear you, those were the words of my father,” Willow explained coming off of the ledge. 

“I am important,” she said to herself.

As she began to play the purple blues in here psyche ward gown that she would often sleep in, she felt angels guiding her hands, as she often would when playing. While she played, she saw the dead and Christ resurrecting in the clouds, they’d come back to save the lost souls.

The Purple Blues had never been played with a harp until Willow was born, and if she would have taken her own life, then she would have lost the inheritance that God had in store for her and the world.

Til this day, every time her music is played, a miracle happens and more people come off of the edge and give their problems to God.

The Purple Blues

The Purple Rose

I saw her tears; she had just lost her son.

I kindly stood by her side and noticed something unique sent from the heavens, it was a purple rose.

Marveling at its beauty, I picked it off of a bush and gave it to the grieving mother.

At that moment something magical happened, her son resurrected from his grave never to die again.

Her grieving turned into tears of joy.

In memory of the young people losing their life only to be resurrected when the purple rose returns.

My Purple Guitar

Even if I were to tell you who I am you would drug me up and make me sing for you at a price.

You would take my children and brainwash them to hate me.

You would sit them in a room as they all watch while you left me there alone on a cross to die.

Nails hammered inside of my flesh just for wanting to save you.

Well here I am, back with my angels on stage dressed in all black with thorns of gold around my head playing my purple guitar. 

I’ve resurrected, and I remember what you did to me, now kneel before your resurrected King.

The King of the Jews

 I hope this message finds you brethren, I hope it cleanses your soul, and to the ignorant, I hope it enlightens you to understand that we who are true to the understanding are not fazed by your foolishness. Brethren, I am seeing God’s people constantly doing things with no fear of consequences. I too am a poor man so all I have are my words. In these uncertain times I have become humbled greatly by the stories of Christ. In these holy months I have witnessed believers tested and many of these believers stand in tall high places. In submission to my own flaws and imperfections I’ve come closer to God but I am disappointed that even believers are falling victim. In watching the tribes of Noah’s offspring pour out uncontrolled conflicts I see the suffering of our beloved savior. Brethren, this message has to seep into your consciousness because mercy for all of God’s creation is what we must comprehend in the crucifixion story. The humility of God’s unyielding power to come and walk with his creation. In seeing constant starvation, war, and conflict, who am I to be guilty of selfishness by turning and looking away while I focus on my own meal. To God I give all my praise and I am thankful for his prophets so who am I? Friends, many of us have been blinded by our own desires. I have come to pled with God by taking time to meditate and read his stories. Why would the forces of God’s knowledge leave us with the stories of pharaohs and the truth that, “yes,” God’s people come in many colors shapes and sizes. This Passover season and Ramadan I am trying to be closer to God but I don’t understand why God’s people are not humbling themselves this holy season. I am watching the Palestinian people suffer, I am watching millions of people suffer, I am even watching truth unfold about Israeli tribes and even they too are suffering. Brethren, I’m seeing a world strong in knowledge be ignorant of its own power. In my own sins, I’m begging for God’s mercy. I can’t turn away in my own will to be purified in his wisdom and power. Friends, if I have learned one thing from the story about the King of the Jews, I have learned mercy, humility, and the will to want to do the right thing. I have learned to share with my brethren, to drink water with them at the cross and to dive in the waters where John the Baptist preached about the Holy Spirit. May peace find you friends, may those who are unchanged be changed, may those struggling find peace, and may those seeking power be brought to their knees in the humility and grace of our father. In hunger, sing songs so that you may be fed by God’s spirit. In chains, sing songs so that you may be freed by the oppressor, and when the enemy comes knocking be mindful that opportunist are often blinded by their own intentions and even scientists are baffled by God’s miracles. I wrote this piece after reading a headline about millions of Palestinians suffering of hunger in constant conflicts between the children of Abraham. Realizing and comprehending a world in trouble I found praise in the story about the King of the Jews. Singing songs of praise I became fed and filled with laughter because the enemy thought he had me too. In uncontrollable laughter I came to the comprehension that the story ends with a jackass baffled by a resurrected King. A resurrected Christ. A resurrected King of the Jews. Brethren, it’s a win - win situation for “US.” The other day I saw a woman dressed in all white and turned away. If she was a virgin that was none of my business. May you find blessings in the comprehension and understanding of a resurrected King of Kings. 

The Green Basketball

 “Larry, what is this?” Jack asked.

“My dad bought it for me. It’s a green basketball,” Larry replied.

“It’s not even official weight is it?” 

Larry began to get annoyed.

“Dude, it’s the same as any other ball we’ve ever played with, it’s just green.”

After several pickup games, Jack became even more frustrated because it appeared as though Larry would not miss.

“You’re a cheater, your dad did something to that ball so you don’t miss a shot,” Jack said shoving Larry from behind.

Everyone noticed the commotion and couldn’t believe how frustrated Jack was just over a pickup game.

Janice, one of Larry’s close friends, stood watching from her porch. Noticing her friend Larry in danger, she ran to break up the fight.

“Jack, stop, it’s just a game,” she explained.

“I bet every dime I had on that game and this punk cheated. His dad rigged that green ball,” Jack replied.

“That’s a lie, I just got lucky. I got hot Janice, for some reason I couldn’t miss,” Larry said, rubbing his now swollen lip.

The other kids all began to side with Jack but thank God Janice was there to mediate. 

“Larry is a freak, and I’m never playing with you bums again. I knew I should’ve brought my ball,” Will said, after kicking Larry in the stomach and throwing his ball into the woods. Even Larry’s own teammates were jealous of him for making so many shots.

“What is wrong with you all? Larry are you okay?” Janice asked Larry after noticing blood coming from his mouth.

“I can’t breathe, Janice. Janice help me, I can’t breathe!”

Realizing that her friend needed emergency help the other players just left him there to die.

“He’s trash anyway,” Janice heard one of them say from a distance. 

She ran into her house to call for help but it was too late, Larry suffered from a punctured lung that soon collapsed after being beaten to death by the other players.

The entire community was devastated at the loss and Larry’s dad Russel regretted ever buying his son a green ball.

After finding the ball in the woods, Janice couldn’t help but cry over the loss of her dear friend. News spread about Larry pretty fast so in his memory people all over the world began to play with green balls to honor the death of a kid with an amazing basketball spirit. He just loved the game and in the end Larry taught the world that it was just a game. His town rose his little league number 8 jersey into the city gym rafters and the world followed suit so that no kid would ever see the same fate as Larry. Every time a fight broke out in a basketball game team mascots would run onto the floor with a green ball and a green number 8 jersey.

The End.

The Green Man

Yes, they ran when they saw me.

They screamed, then ran to safety, it never dawned on me that the world had never seen a green man.

The Green Force

The light was green so I kept going.

Woman after woman invited me into their life and I kindly accepted the offers.

Falling from grace I felt a green force and like a little leprechaun he showed me a way out.

“Make sure she loves you for who you are lad.”

After his words, I only took arms with the woman that picked me up in the end.

The green force made me wiser, turned me into a saint.

Green Blood

From a distance it looked like a black wave. At first I thought I’d been dreaming and awoke in another world. If black was to be the color of power then I guess these people were trying to prove a point. They kept beating the war drum. In all, I became confused because they wouldn’t stop marching towards their goal. At first I thought they were human, but after I saw the front brigade get hit with a ripple of bullets I noticed that whoever these people were their blood was green. It was like I’d been trapped in a fiction fairytale. Were these the black angels that road the black horses or were these just a new fighting machine determined to defend their representative republic? Drenched in green blood it was like they were immortal. They fought their battle as though they’d been sent from God to strike fear in mortal souls who did not believe.

Witnesses who stood with me could not believe what we were seeing. 144,000 soldiers dressed in black bringing foolish, cunning, and demented men to their knees. The black clothed soldiers came from underneath the earth and they had green blood. I saw God’s hand in the wrath that they’d unleashed. Confused and eager to get a closer look, one of them looked me in the eyes for they only spared the righteous and I did not have a mark on me. Standing tall with them, I couldn’t help but notice that I was not delusional, this was not a human army these were black angels that bled green blood. They were preparing the way for a new beginning. Cleansing the earth for what was yet to come. Maybe a new world.

Green Blood

Green & Gold

I left her alone. Why did I do that? She was a gift to this world, but after seeing so many tragedies she just couldn’t take it anymore.

Starring at her picture, I became overwhelmed with grief.

God did you take her because I loved her? I could hear an inner part of my conscience telling me not to question. Alone in the room where we used to talk, I couldn’t help but marvel at the beautiful portrait that we had specially made when we got engaged. How do you die before the wedding? How do I go on? 

God help me.

Shortly after tipping over in my sorrows, I found myself on the floor. A fifty year old man drowning in the loss of the love of his life. What do I live for now? 

“Justin, Justin, get up. How long have you been on the floor?”

I could hear someone saying as I was slowly waking up.

“Go away!” I shout, noticing a small glare of light shining through my cracked door.

The room was pitch black. I made sure every blind was closed so I knew it had to be my sister, she’s the only one I gave a key to.

“Mom told me to check on you. Are you okay?”

I figured she didn’t hear the sad news.

“Francis is gone, Phillis. She didn’t make it through the treatments. She died while you were away.” I explained to my sister.

Reaching for my glasses, the room got silent.

“I’m sorry to hear that, I know you loved her.”

My sister and I had never talked about our relationships but I guess there’s a time for everything.

“How did she die?” Phillis asked, noticing me slowly opening up to converse more. 

“She killed herself because she couldn’t take the treatments,” I replied.

Sitting there with my sister, I’d been tough all of my life, but I’d lost a lot of people dear to me. Noticing my grey hair I couldn’t fathom where I was getting the strength to carry on from because I was scarred. Even when I got back to work it wasn’t the same. When Francis died, I guess a part of me died also. I didn’t date for years and even when I tried, nothing could replace me seeing her in her green and gold nightgown the night I proposed. What I didn’t know is that while I was questioning God he was showing me things, preparing me to guide the next generation. When my students heard my story and how I didn’t give up on life it made them stronger. Everyday I came in to teach class they developed a different kind of hope. I became their role model, their family away from home. When they gave me a card with a picture of Francis in her green and gold dress, I began to understand why I had to be in my students’ life. They helped me heal and I gave them strength. I became their good luck charm, they passed every test.

Green & Gold

The Prostitute

Friends, this piece means a lot to me. I’m a man and I love women, even the prostitutes. If this piece of literature offends you, then I recommend you educate yourself about a segment dear to the academic arena, a segment called sexual education and the darker side called sexual exploitation.

In my younger years I would laugh at a sexual joke while fantasizing about many local women dear to me. Battling with what I thought to be a sin turned out to be natural amongst men. I bring this topic up because men and women battle with sexuality but I’m just brave enough to talk about it. Some people even commit suicide because of extreme loneliness. Yes, I take pleasure in looking at naked women and if I were to lie to you I would be a coward. Yes, even as a young boy growing up in the ghettos of the world I would fantasize about every kind of woman I could think of, it’s every man’s struggle. I will not exploit too many of my inner demons nor my family’s demons but sexual desires are real. The porn industry is real. These are people who take their clothes off for the world to see and many have no shame. As I’ve grown older I’ve come to take the time to listen to these professionals talk about their industry. Many of these women are very attractive and have the power to inflict images that many of us cannot control. We’re human, but I do question the business because this is a no nonsense brutal business that is legal in some states and some parts of the world. Let me paint the picture, I have to let this out. The urge is there, a man or woman has been brutally beaten down in life and there he or she is; the prostitute, fulfilling every sexual deviant thought known to mankind at a price. Mainly women selling their self for money. Vibrating and gyrating as extreme stimulation takes over our most inner fantasies. We want it, we have to have it and nothing or anyone can stop the trance. The laws of science and every religious law cannot define the physical nor mental attraction. The ultimate stress reliever awaits, but just like everything it comes at a price. The truth is your girlfriend is an excuse, your wife is an excuse, your profession is an excuse, and lust is your curse. Guilty of our own human nature. The saddest part is dealing with the reality, many of these women are stuck in a pit and so many of their stories are the same. They have signed their entire cognitive dissonance over to a pimp. Many of these women have spent their entire lives fleeing drug infested surroundings cursed by the temptations of perverted minds. Some of these women are kidnapped and sold into the sex trade never to be rescued by a hero. Yes, I am human, and I am man enough to admit that I may have never slept with a prostitute but I see them all the time promoting their profession to the world. Yes, I do battle with my conscience perverted thoughts so I wrote this piece for the prostitute. Sweating, sitting in a room fantasizing about someone that I’ve never even met after going through so many terrible relationships in life has taught me one thing and that’s we’re all in this together. Drowning in these desires I’ve grown to listen, yield, and take the time to encourage the opposite sex. Goodbye February, I’ll end the month of American Black History and love with a little humor, maybe I’ll get lucky in March. Who knows?🍀 HaHa.

The Prostitute 

The Game of Chess

Each player must think.

Each piece has value and some pieces are worth more than others.

There are pawns fighting on the frontlines to protect the most valuable pieces—the King & Queen.

Compared to life, people often surround themselves around people to better their position.

The suicide bomber, the police, the pastor, the president, the criminal, the teacher, the radio host, the dictator, the scam artist, the banker, the businessman, the doctors, the writers, the dentist, the fisherman, the accountant, the farmer, and even the pilot. 

In this game there are losers and winners. Some people know they’re playing and some people don’t, but the key to winning is to outthink your opponent. 

The most important focal point taught in the game of chess is that you cannot control the way people think, but each move will influence your opponent. What you will find is the fact that a selfish confused person that is constantly blaming or putting their trust in others often may take what they win never to shake their opponent’s hand. 

What are the odds?

Out of billions of sperm wasted, how did one nut make it between the cervix, through the uterine cavity into the ovulation cycle through the ovum path busting open the conception fertilization site and it doesn’t stop there, he or she then slides through the protective shell to fertilize the ovum only to be born later to grow up sitting at a table playing chess with world players. 

The point is simple, the odds of life and death are defined by so many choices, but who decides who’s born? If you make the wrong choice friend, my advice to you is be very mindful of the child that makes it to the ovum and fed through the umbilical cord—protected by the uterine muscle wall, uterine lining, uterine cavity, amnion, and amniotic cavity.

This child has a purpose and once he or she finds out his or her purpose they will find out the choices that you’ve made in his or her favor and they will decide whether you lose or win the game. These children are the pieces on the board. They invented the game by observing others then growing up to make the rules.

Good Luck finding where the other billion sperm went, they could be the forces guiding the hands.

Who’s watching us and who is selective breeding? These are the people doing anything and everything to win. They’re doing whatever it takes to increase their odds.

Good luck. 🍀 

Exodus

Standing at the border they came in droves. Whatever they were running from had gotten out of hand. Just by the looks in their eyes, it appeared as though they were searching for an illusion that promised them everything, a policy that empowered them. Who was I only to notice women offering me their innocents and families offering to sell themselves at any price. So there I stood, in my uniform, battered and bruised for the will of the people. I’d come to the conclusion that the world is a sphere of illusions and sadly I had to uphold a law just to keep my own family fed and my people protected. Who ever was their Moses, he’d given his people an awesome dream. Exhausted, I’d become numb to a sad reality and just like the Pharaohs in Egypt I became the victim of an Exodus into my very own imaginary representative republic. They’d reached the promised land flowing with milk and honey, sadly, I was just their stepping stone. In a ball of frustration, I’d come to a sad conclusion that it was impossible for me to fix the way people thought and if I didn’t know their language, why even try? It was clear that their mind was made up and my home was their promised land.

Exodus

The Casual Black History Topic

 When observing other cultures you may notice something different in America. You may also be confused by political decisions that could lose you money and support. The sad part about black history is that these obvious cultural and detailed abnormalities are very expensive to repair and have cost some people their life. Yes, it’s clear and true that Black Americans have a rich history in the foundation of a country that may be ignorant of what actually took place and many people feel that they have too much at stake when discussing the truth. The melting pot of America is riddled with native blacks still caught in a constant struggle of survival. Black on black crime is also a factor with a language gap dehumanizing other black Americans with the N word still being used fluently. Friends, this is a touchy topic that baffles those who study criminology. Drugs have also infiltrated family progress. Many blacks have stood idle trapped in drug infested communities with little to no resources outside of the church to survive. The wealth gap and psychological damage is serious. To sum things up, what has occurred under the radar has been published by those brave enough to take a camera into the sadistic reality of America’s black communities. Some who are products of these environments seep out into the real world and are overcome by grief of the many faces that never made it to see the promised land. The promised land filled with knowledge, women, wealth, and attention. Some of these people come back and many don’t. Some of these people are scarred and traumatized by an environment that almost seems like a trap. A trap that sucks people into hate, jealousy, and the structured demise of a group of people searching for love, identity, and a place to call home. Friends, it’s okay to celebrate your heritage, it’s okay to sing songs that helped your ancestors get through the struggles and those who don’t understand that may not be open to the beauty in the ghettos or suburbs of America. They may not understand the roses that grow from torn down trees where innocent black bodies once hung. Brethren, if time has taught us anything, it has taught us to never forget that we all have a purpose. The rich need the poor, the government needs the people, and a country that fought a war to end slavery is a country with a hell of a story. Standing in the middle of political discussions I’ve learned to shut up and get back to work so that the failures of the past do not manifest in those who still may have hatred brewing in their souls. Being a product of this environment, I’ve found that I’m better when I take time to reflect on a young man who has grown and can still plant seeds for others as well. Friends, I hope this message reaches you in peace and I hope we all learn something this month, and if we learn nothing, then the lessons being taught will never be able to habilitate our grief and the bitterness that many individuals may still hold inside. 

It’s not so hard knock after all

I’ve got Lisa, Alicia, Sa’Ryia, and Shanise, it’s not so bad after all.

I’ve got trees, the park and some grapes, it’s not so hard after all.

I’ve got a cot, a loaf of bread and some ice water, it’s not so complicated after all.

I may not have everything that I want or need and people may have figured me out, but I’ve got a love song that I’m going to drop dead singing.

I’ll sit in the back of the bus and sing my heart ❤️ out.

It’s not so hard knock after all.

Lifeless Love

It was a long deployment and by God’s divine will and mercy my life had been spared. The war was over. Realizing that I’d lost some of my natural senses I’d become lifeless in a way. Standing on the dock alone I realized that it was February, Black History Month. To be honest I had no clue who I was. My history had been erased and in reality I was a lost and lonely soldier. From a distance I saw my people differently. They left me alone to fight for myself, but deep inside I still loved them. My family had literally been torn apart by street curses, my bloodline splattered all over the city streets. Who am I? Am I an Egyptian statue with no nose? Am I a lost Israelite with no tribe? Am I a slave only 3/5ths a citizen? Who am I? Am I a deity who returned from the underworld to save his people? Am I the N word that both colors so commonly use? Who am I? Tired and weary I found comfort in a lady standing at a bus stop.

“You made it home, how was it? I’ve always wondered how it was out there. Where are your friends and family lone sailor?” She asked.

I remained quiet while noticing that she had a drawing in her hand.

“What do you want from me? Why are you here waiting for me to answer your question? Leave me alone,” I replied.

“So you want to live your life alone?” She says.

I give her a hug and a kiss then look her in the eyes.

 “I don’t know you and I’ve never met you but it’s better that way.” I explained.

She then dropped her artwork, “I need someone like you in my life. This dream I’ve held onto of fans screaming my name has been a curse. I’ve been beaten lifeless by loneliness, I need a man like you in my life.”

I turn to her as my seabag hits the deck, “Are you sure?”

She then jumps into my arms, “Yes.”

I then put her in my seabag, brace it on my back and I walk off into the sunset with her inside.

I’ve been discharged.

Lifeless Love

An 8 Ball of Love

We’re just a speckle of dust in the darkness of space.

A human mind full of wonders trying to open up closed doors, some locked.

Who are we?

So I ask, “Are we any better than a flower or a lost dog trying to find his way home?”

I say we’re just lost creatures searching for love. Rolling 8 balls fighting, scraping, and even killing for one thing—love.

Even when we think we know, we don’t, because love is the only answer.

We need it.

We desire it.

But most of all, we crave it, and would die of a broken heart 💔 without it.

An 8 Ball of Love

Old Love

I thought I needed Tina, but Sasha loved me more.

I thought I had to be rich, but Coco loved me when I was poor.

In deep thought I reminisce about Trina but I can’t forget about Serena.

What will become of my love spell with Rose?

She’s my old love but she keeps me on my toes.

Ashley is cute and Naomi is too.

I helped her up in the hallway when she tripped over her own shoe.

So who will it be this Valentine’s Day? I guess I’ll call up my old love just to hear what she has to say.

Old Love.

Rainy Days

The sky is gray and the rain is falling so I paint a picture of worms crawling. 

The ground is wet and as the trees sweat from the looks of it Mother Nature has made a complete mess.

Rainy Days

The New OG

I’m the new old guy. While young, everything was brand new: The women, the money, and even the love.

I’m the new old guy.

While young, I could jump, throw, swing and dance. I’m the new old guy.

I fell out of a chair today and my kids just left me on the floor, with the little fight that I had left in me, I got up and whipped their asses one last time.

I’m the new old guy. 

I still got it.

I’m the new OG.

Radio Waves

 I had just driven through one of the biggest snowstorms in the history of all Ohio. I remember it like it was yesterday, me, little old Wesley West slipping and sliding in my navy-blue Charger. To this day I have no clue how I made it into the Cleveland Radio station. I drove all the way from Youngstown Ohio. While walking into the station I noticed that the building that housed the station was in the middle of nowhere and there were some strange things going on in the studio. Signals were going in and out and headed into Black History month I knew racial tensions were pretty high, but on air you could talk about anything if that is where the topic lead you. I then heard screams coming from the elevator on my way to the restroom, it was a strange day. Realizing that I had no on-air routine before the show, I figured I'd better do something quick and that's when my phone rang. Ironically, I'd left Youngstown early in the storm and still managed to reach the station ahead of time. While hearing the voice on the other line it was my friend's ex-husband from when I used to live in a county called Columbiana. He laid it into me about some business that I'd done with his daughter and until this day I have no clue what I did wrong, but I had to end the conversation quickly because my time to go on air was running short. There I stood in the station; I had just got a divorce and my grandfather had just died, that's when I heard a blast of static and one of the engineers cursing. He quickly rushed from one hidden room to another to fix a jammed signal. It appears that he was pissed off because the show host before mine randomly didn't show up and they had to find a program to replace the dead air. I also noticed a chair literally sitting in the middle of a broken studio glass window. In the midst of the madness, I heard the program director had just fired one of the studio hands for masturbating allegations while in the studio. I also heard that the chair got thrown through the window because someone violated FCC rules and uploaded porn and foul language that played on the airwaves in an attempt to bring the station down. Apparently, the host who threw the chair got upset because he owed the station eighteen thousand dollars and they threatened to sue him if he didn't pay his bill. Headed into my studio booth, I had five minutes left before I went on the air, and I had no clue why there was a noose hanging from the ceiling of the studio across the hall. I thought it was some kind of subliminal message, but I was wrong, one of the engineers told me that they had a live taping of a rodeo exhibit earlier that day and it was actually a rope that was left behind for the host as a souvenir. I couldn't help but noticing them laughing due to the look on my face. Spooked or not, I still had to do a show. The engineer then kindly entered my booth and thanked me for coming in. I guess the radio business had been taking a huge hit and was literally fighting for its life to stay afloat and my show counted. After the conversation, in the midst of an influx of side drama that I'd been dealing with, it almost felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. That night I had to talk about literally everything that had been going on in the world through the radio waves. The lines were lighting up like crazy, and I wasn't getting paid a dime, I was feeding it all to the station. After the show, I gave my board operators some extra cash and soon realized that I too had to file for bankruptcy just to keep the radio tower up and the digital computer signals percolating. While in the food lines, dreaming of my next gig, I couldn't help but notice that even though I left that station, I didn't lose my audience. Some of them even found me and gave me a place to stay. I even got an offer from another station. I had no clue who was listening, but I guess when I thought my story didn't matter, I was wrong. In the end, we all thought the radio tower was falling, but we all picked it up together and kept the radio waves flowing. We talked about everything, and when there was nothing else to talk about, we made some stuff up. Our radio signal was so strong that aliens came down just to conversate on air with us. Spirits were literally in the studio, some from heaven and some from hell.  

Radio Waves.    

The Dream Thesis

If I were to tell you that this was it, I would be lying. How do you perceive yourself and others? What are your values? Some of us have characteristics that others may not have but friends there is another world. A world worth reaching for. A world where nothing is impossible and dreams do come true. A world that can’t exist without us. We all play a role. Black, white, and even brown. On this Martin Luther King Jr. day imagine a world where even the characters in reality must stand beside each other. The victims, the assassins, and even the investigators. A world where the spirit rises like the sun and the body elevates to a higher frequency. In this dream world we find out that all of the hatred in our hearts was for nothing. We were ignorant of our own future and enemies of our own survival. A world fixed with people joining hands and reaching for a common ground. In this thesis paper this world is all how you imagine it and the content of your character has everything to do with the magic in turning a dream into a reality. Friends, kings come and kings go, but we now live in a world where our very own individual dreams can become a reality. There is no law against dreaming, it’s a gift from God the creator and it’s yours. Dream on dreamers.

The Dream Thesis

The Wealth Thesis

 Are the ultra rich my enemy? What can I learn from people who obtain massive amounts of wealth? This Martin Luther King Jr. day I’ve come to question the poverty gap and the misunderstanding between two schools of thought. The wealthy mind set is far different from the poor mindset. A smart rich man has one flaw and that is his fear of becoming poor. Each mindset has specific characteristics, the poor man may seek comfort in understanding empathy while the rich man may always be on guard for those after his wealth. Each mindset can test the human motive. A poor man can learn how to grind to become rich while a rich man may have to teach his children certain values that he can’t because he’s not poor. Fragility and skill are also factors because to get the tools you need there has to be a fair trade and if a poor man has nothing to offer he could become a pawn on a rich man’s chessboard. Equality is the balance of power in this thesis paper. In Dr. King’s case, he sacrificed his will to live comfortably as the ultimate investment in the future. Although his battle was rough, he chose a tactic of marching and taking the beating. This was a clever tactic also used by boxers with endurance. Wear out your opponent then win in the last round by knocking him or her out. It’s a gamble because your army will have to fight without a leader in the end. In the case of Dr. King, his army literally was left with no choice because many of them were poor but in numbers they were rich. In present time, majority rule may see this and continue to wipeout their opponents, but in what I call the Jesus strategy, the poor man has a secret weapon, one key factor to defy all odds, the poor man has the spirit of “God.” His fighting in not coming from nutrients, but pure grit and hunger. He has nothing to lose and everything to gain even if he has to die for it. 

The Wealth Thesis 

The Labor Thesis

 All we had left was work. We had no safety net, no savings and a few degrees that we never used. Martin Luther King Jr. day was just around the corner and the world hated us for working. We watched people literally wasting time and money while we worked on Dr. Kings’s holiday. I swear, we worked so hard that we developed a reputation around the entire city for being the only business in town under paid but over worked. Supervisors on the workroom floor began complaining to their staffs that they should be more like us. My wife and I cleaned cars, passed out flyers, ran community events, and even fed the homeless with little to no money left over for ourselves, we literally slept at our business, but together, we were happy. Together, we became the face of working class families, business owners, and the American dream. We became an inspiration to others like us. Our thesis paper was centered around our life. We’d been victims of crime and violence our entire life and became accustomed to using our time wisely; in fact, we made it a habit. Our focus was turning negative vibes and energy into something more constructive, “work.” I’m sure Martin would say, “Good job, dreamers.”

The Labor Thesis

Critical Thesis

 In America we have standards. There are consistent conspiracies that float through the air waves on a daily basis with academics that wrestle with diverse schools of thought. There are also stereotypical incidents that occur quite often. To a person aspiring to be what they often value can be tricky. A person may see Jesus as God and may never take the time to listen to someone else’s beliefs. This is no different from other faiths also, I personally was raised Christian, but in the process of becoming well read and well studied, I still have my values, but I’ve come to understand that there’s so much more for the simple mind to comprehend. One example is law. In America you will often see videos demonizing people who have a sexual sickness. To a doctor, sex is a common thing in human nature, but to a religious radical it’s a sin. In some countries men may have multiple wives with some being as young as eleven. In America you will also see people doing things that they wouldn’t do around other ethnicities. Just by watching a program a person may be susceptible to be quickly judged outside of one’s profession and when asked “What do you prefer?” a person may be confused. This is critical to a lot of people trying to keep up with the ruling class. I personally love a good joke, but sadly, some people may want to be uptight and serious so I may at times offend them. This Martin Luther King Jr. day there is the question of civility. How can one be civilized in a world that in reality is uncivilized and random? How can one be civilized when statistically a large majority of women do not feel comfortable bringing children into the world? So in deep thought let’s examine a universal thesis because logic to many is universal or unaccepted. Data shows that there’s a lot of things that occur in nature that defies logical reasoning and people do beat the odds daily. Statistics also show that we all seem to be heavy consumers of sexual or controversial topics. In present time people seem to love podcasting. Culture also seems to be a hot topic, but when looking in the mirror we can learn something about current affairs. We can also learn a lot about ourselves. We can dream and come to accept the fact that the universe and the world is filled with amazing people and things some yet to be discovered. One simple fact is that none of us are the same. We all think differently, act differently, and we all have different goals. For problem solvers this involves critical thought because how do you fix ignorance when we all are ignorant of something and the truth at times can be flawed. So while sitting in a room surrounded by books, I randomly take my clothes off and jump into a crowd of dreamers hoping that they catch me. So to conclude my thesis paper, I’ve come to accept the fact that we’re all guilty of something and the judge may construct the final verdict but in reality the real battle is with the conscience mind. While falling, I realize that I may have had better odds of the crowd catching me if I had left my clothes on or if it was dark. Therefore, I seek comfort in hope that they will catch me, but even if they let me fall, at least I had enough courage to jump.

Critical Thesis

A Quiet Day

I shut it all off. 

I sat in a quiet room and I was healed that fast.

Nothing was said, no arguments, just complete silence.

This actually helped my mental state more than anything and even though the problems were still there my ability to handle them was much better the next day.

A Quiet Day

1964

It was a year of law, a day where two fountains were painted in black and white no more.

The colors of blood flowed through the streets of a nation still trying to unify from a brutal foundation.

So many martyrs for a different kind of justice.

It was a year where the entire world became attached to the comprehension of civil rights.

Why even try when you’re out numbered, out gunned and have an entire deck of cards being dealt so that you can’t win?

A decade filled with unjust tears of a scarred past too hard to let go.

An optimist would say that the great society is what you make it.

A pessimist might say that the dream was and still is “a nightmare.”

What will you say, when asked about 1964?

In a nation founded to be united, you might be left in disbelief about how many people actually fail or don’t want to remember, and are easy to forget 1964.

60 years later, where are we headed?

Did we awake or are we still living the dream? Maybe we could be daydreaming about a decade where time actually stood idle in between two worlds. ♾️ 

1964