Quiet, peaceful, and handy.
They look like normal people. They follow good people around watching everything they do and testing them. When you’re asleep they report to the evil one. This is how they populate and try to takeover the world. Their vibes can literally drain the life out of you. They never sleep so beware because when they’re flesh is resting, their soul is nesting in the presence of the beast. They prey off of the innocent and may seem psychologically imbalanced but the truth is they’re actually not. They’re selfish and will do anything to obtain power, it’s their animal instinct to feed off of the weak. When they obtain power, be very careful because they tend to leave a trail of dead bodies along with hurt and neglected people. Some of them are even educated and sitting in elite positions. The most scary part about this story is how they can trap you when you’re alone. Preying on your thoughts to the point in which their voice will try to convince you to commit suicide. This scary story may sound fiction but it can actually prove that there are forces in this world that cannot be explained until witnessed. Forces of evil that people hide from. Heart throbbing paranoia entrapping the minds and hearts of pure thinkers. Leaving innocent babies at their grave and victims burned to feed the beast. They follow you and watch your every move, asking questions to get answers to spread and tarnish any fabric of innocence. Beware, stay on guard, stay close to the light. Stay away from their dwelling places, laced with all kinds of drugs and narcotics. The dark seekers come out at night and plot during the day, for they feed off of innocent blood and they prey off of your dark thoughts. They have a tendency to convince you that you’re just like them. Beware.
A Scary Inclination
I wanted to make people laugh, so me, my mom, my sister, and my dad drove all the way to New York City for a show. I’ve always enjoyed a good joke so I was eager to see what it felt like. I prepared for weeks, this was what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to drink, I just wanted to rehearse and tell a good joke so I could make some people laugh. This was my idea of a good time. I then got on stage only to notice that I had the wrong material for the right crowd. They moved me to the full room in which no one really had been into political jokes so I bombed, but the good thing was that I got a taste of show business. I got to try it out and got a few laughs from the joke delivered by me and the MC who intervened, “Yo dog, you ready to sit down?” This is what he asked after he sat and literally watched me make a fool out of myself.
Holding the microphone tightly, I replied , “Hell nah, I ain’t done with them yet. I at least got to get one laugh.”
The crowd loved that punch line, so I took those little laughs and got the hell out of town. My vision of a huge crowd in some sold out stadium left me to see what the comedy club hopping life was really like and it wasn’t easy.
Once the show was over, the ride home was pretty quiet. I knew my little sister wanted to make fun of me but she stayed quiet. My first time just didn’t go as planned. What a sad first time ever on stage, but I sucked it up and tried again. My second gig was in my hometown, but I was well prepared and me and the audience had a ball. The crowd feedback was awesome. Each show taught me something about being on stage seeing that it was on my bucket list of things to try before I hit my thirties. What I learned the most was that some people can take a good joke and some people can’t. Another thing I learned was that while you’re up there alone spilling out your therapy, whether people laugh or not, you’re never alone on stage, it literally feels like a magical force is telling you what to say. The best punchline usually comes when the person who enjoys seeing you get it off your chest and deliver the honest truth about a very sad situation throws a laughing fit. Comedy 🎭 is just that, you take a bad situation and you turn it into a good joke. The liberation and ability to say what a lot of people are afraid to is spell-bounding but actually helps people realize that life really is a comedy that isn’t funny until you put a comedian in the room to turn it into a joke. Who dare try is the funniest part of all.
“What do we do now General?” Arthur asked.
General Powell gently placed his hand on the soldier’s shoulder, “Son, I’m off duty, call me Powell, and remember, the wars that are the hardest to win are the ones we face everyday, the key to winning is to carry-on. Carry-on son, and let history remind you to make better decisions. Carry-on!”
Look towards the hills from whence cometh your strength, all your help cometh from the lord. I am a jealous God so I’m taking it back. Everything belongs to me…every thought…every crumb from your dinner plate…every genius providing knowledge and food for thought. Ever whore corrupting my prophet’s hearts and minds lifting their untamed snakes.
I gave you the rainbow as my promise and you defiled it, now you must pay, for you have not seen suffering until you’ve met the creator…I alone provide, for if the blind cannot see they can feel? From the feminine males to the masculine women who fail to make sense of the fact that each of their kind equals things out. They too can make the right choice. Cannot a feminine male not be satisfied by a masculine woman. Cannot a mixture of both prove that I am trying to equal things out and make it fair as you request from I am that I am. Be mindful of what you request from me, for I am a just God that hears your prayers but your tainted hearts have made you stubborn; therefore, I must speak through a mediator. They can only see through me. For if the woman cannot give birth, do I still not find a way to provide life? When there is no balance do I not even the scale? Have I not answered the call of the tormented and defiled slaves? End the confusion now. Take your feeble eyes and comprehend what real mercy is, for my winds are as strong as the wings of my Angels that make them blow. Look up at the night sky, for I gave you the stars to fathom my power, you’re just a man and a woman, so take notice of my new wrath that you now comprehend as black, complete darkness, sucking in all light. Figure how such fire can create soot, for it burns.
Only I am that I am can direct it past your ordained space orbiting around the earth.
My new wrath is far from the flood…
My new wrath is far from burning…
My new wrath is…
The Black Hole 🕳
Welcome to my kingdom of internal dark thoughts. When I open my wings that span from one end of the universe to the other, you will be my crowning achievement as a creation that blasphemed me while I am that I am fly across another megalopolis with your galaxy in a marble across my neck.
The Black Hole 🕳
Benita begged her husband for an expensive fur coat, she had to have one, but when he said no, because he couldn’t afford it, all hell broke loose. Benita went crazy and she and her husband argued for days. Benita wanted this particular coat very bad and would do anything to get it. Pleading her case with her husband, who stood his ground, she found out that she had a secret admirer. Once her secret admirer found out her deepest desires, he went out of his way to provide her with the expensive fur coat that she wanted. Forever grateful, Benita decided to file for divorce because her husband couldn’t buy her the fur coat that she so deeply wanted. After her divorce was complete, she fell into a deep relationship with her secret admirer who later became less attracted to her after a few dates. Sadly, Benita found herself alone in a room with her fur coat while also trying to figure out how to manage her depleted savings. The coat that she had so much desired left her alone at a crossroad. Distraught, and filled with regret while sitting in a small hotel room with the TV loud behind her, she turned around and noticed her former husband on the local news. The reporter went on to describe how he had saved his neighbor’s child from a house fire. In deep despair and heartache, Benita soon became homeless with only her fur coat to keep her warm. She even tried to sell it but no one would buy it. Her troubles never ended after she accepted the fur coat as a gift, for she had ate from the cookie jar until there were no more cookies left to eat.
Benita’s Fur Coat
Today’s lesson is learning how the eyes and ears can be fooled.
Is an egg still an egg when it’s baked in a cake?
Is a song still a good song without the instruments?
Listen to the words, are you being brainwashed into your natural carnal nature?
Watch a film, what do you see?
Are you an optimist or a pessimist?
Are you color blinded or did you just speak to someone with a lack of respect because you knew you could get away with it?
Is a cross really a cross or is it a religious symbol that looks similar to an Egyptian Ankh?
Dig deeper, will you eventually find lava or more space?
Reach in and focus closely on what you may be missing if not critically understood, unlock a world of truth only to find a lie.
What are you being programmed to believe? Take your time and awake from your sleep.
Why would someone deprive you of knowledge, are they hiding something, or do they enjoy controlling you?
The art of deception is like a magic trick that blinds you in broad daylight.
Those you hurt and harm could be talking to you while you’re sleeping so why assume that oppression last for ever?
Listen to the child screaming at night, listen…if constantly left alone this child must learn how to survive, if not taken seriously, he or she could become a murderer with no conscience.
Is this why the child yearns for love but chooses to hate?
Will those who steal ever get caught?
Will those in prison ever be set free?
If you tell the truth how will you be treated?
If you obtain knowledge will you not also become a teacher?
Take a second to look closely at the picture…
Take a second to listen to the words…
It’s just feelings, is it really real?
Are you alone?
Did you just accuse the one you love of hurting you?
The artist, singer, photographer, and writer is only sharing with you a feeling. Teaching you a lesson.
He or she may be trying to wake you up… or keep you asleep.
Is life a gift or a curse?
Follow the Art…and you may find truth in what you’re looking for.
If you don’t, someone may claim credit for the masterpiece hidden in plain sight, and run off with the gold only to sell the beauty in which you created with your bare hands.
The Art of Deception
A rotten apple spreads, it stinks, and it’s rotten to the core.
Henry was a righteous man, he was just, but after a while he snapped and vowed to eliminate every rotten apple from his tree.
Everyone around him had become so lazy and stupid that Henry just couldn’t take it anymore.
Enlightened and obsessed with the woke crowd he went in the back yard and set every rotten apple on fire. He then built a gate around his new garden and allowed no one to enter ever again. His garden was purified, spotless, but most of all perfect.
Study, practice, fail, pass, tests, homework, groups, teams, quizzes, the key is to never stop learning.
You can learn from losing, you can learn from winning.
You can even learn from a bad situation.
You can learn when you’re young and even when you’re old.
The most amazing thing about learning is how even when you think you have it all figured out there’s more to learn.
Learning is God’s ultimate lesson in which he teaches us infinite ♾ knowledge and everyday we wakeup unknowingly in his classroom. Some days will be good and some days will be bad. We can choose to believe and we can choose not to, it’s no different from dropping out of school. We have a choice to listen and be taught or lean on our own understanding.
Some classes will be easy and some classes will be hard, but in the end he will judge us.
We may not want to accept it, but he’s teaching us all to be good. He’s always teaching us a lesson and his academic curriculum can never be mastered only imagined because the knowledge and skills learned are invisible. The learning last a lifetime, only to find out that his power to teach is often comprehended the most when we’re alone studying. Studying to learn how to be good. Studying and learning. It never stops.
Before computers I saw flesh right in front of my eyes. The images of natural life I embraced. I communicated with everyone. Now my phone is calling me, my favorite girl is inside of the screen, and I can’t even touch her. The feelings are artificial. The tech virus has even infected my wife, she’s on her phone twenty-four hours a day it seems like. I admit it, we’re both addicted. Arguing over who called who and who got what message. We can’t put down our tech gadgets for one day. Our kids are addicted too. Sending pictures of themselves and body parts to complete strangers. Minute by minute and hour by hour passes and we’re still in front of the screen fulfilling our fantasies and wildest thoughts that enable us to imagine everything that we’ve always desired through a screen. I could be going blind, but it’s too late, the virus has spread everywhere. Emails, text messages and an entire data driven conversation broadcasted for the entire world to hear. Streaming and enough gamma and beta rays to fry the brain. We’re addicted to our phones, we tried to put our technical devices down for one week and suffered from withdrawal. In a complete rage, I drowned my devices in a bowl of water and began holding normal conversations with my wife and kids. We took up painting and began mailing letters again. The tech virus nearly killed us and while we’re outside holding conversations the streets are empty because everyone is online, probably doing their homework and who knows what else. Yesterday I saw a man flip his car over on the highway trying to respond to a text. The programming has us all caught in a web. We’re lost in virtual space.
The Tech Virus
Oh lord, I just felt something snap in my leg. There goes my standout football season. I wonder if they serve snacks on the ambulance ride to the hospital. All of this running around has made me hungry. This football stuff has worn me out, I think I’ll quit and maybe try and enter the spelling bee.
For some reason I can’t let go.
For some reason I don’t understand.
For some reason I care…
I have to go back and save more people, I can still hear them screaming, I can still see them jumping, I confess that I’m traumatized, I confess that I’ve lost my mind trying to figure out why.
For some reason I can’t let go.
For some reason I don’t understand.
For some reason I care…
Communication between King Solomon and I had gone to another level. Our minds began to spin through the wide lengths of space as we both noticed that we were stuck between two worlds. One was real and one was fake. For we both had been shown false help mates but soon realized that they had all been sacrificed before the GOAT, for they’d fell victim to the lie so we didn’t try to save them and instead broke bread and ate. King Solomon was my friend, he was like a father to me, he showed me visions of slaves being tortured and raped only to be rescued by angels. I began to weep seeing my relatives drowning in drug use and alcohol abuse, for they were not happy. In the distance, King Solomon pointed to a false religion that would tangle my thoughts, he also showed me tribes that had stole gold and authentic tunics to secure their wealth. He then opened my eyes to all that I failed to see before. As brothers, we took a walk through the underworld and he gave me a dream.
“This is my father’s brother, a place where souls believe lies and mingle with the thoughts that cannot defeat the light of day. Do not be fooled by your own desires for I have made a way for you to manifest in an abundance of glory,” he said showing me two principles of thought.
I could then hear his wives calling him, but he informed me that meditation was key before he answered them.
“False sacrifices and a false face put on the one who gives us internal thoughts and wisdom has been detected in my temple,” he explained.
Seeing the future, I fell to my knees on a rug made of gold laces.
“Get up my brother, for there is so much more to see,” he said.
In the distance was a hole, one was filled with darkness and one was filled with light.
I will share with you the devil’s riddle,
“A thief that is satisfied only steals to be caught. A woman that blames everyone else for her problems but fails to blame herself will fall in love with three men at the same time and convince them that it’s their fault. Wisdom is like a fashion book with many designs in it leading to a dark colored outfit worn to stay warm. The riddle is simple and one cannot exist without the other, therefore, if you die young or live to be old, in the end the results are not different. Once you figure this out you will find true peace in your heart and you will face your fears when solving the devil’s riddle,” he explained.
Confused, I began to drink out of a golden cup that he provided as he showed me the kingdom that God had prepared for me.
“Do not be afraid brother, for we have walked through the underworld hearing numerous false prophets to get here. This is your inheritance. For death is just another portal into infinite salvation. You must be rejuvenated with the truth,” he said, showing me more.
My cup of wisdom and knowledge began to overflow. This was home for us, our eternal treasure, a kingdom of righteousness. Seeing my people sweating in hard labor after awaking from my dream I gave them fresh water and we sat down to talk together. I solved the devil’s riddle sitting with my people in the hot sun realizing that he was just a character in a never ending story in which all I had to do was close the book and focus on what was right. Hearing my wives calling me, I was not afraid of the laws put in place by man, for brother Solomon had given me the keys to my own Kingdom. Me and my people were free to do as we pleased and the devil was not a character in our book, therefore he didn’t exist in our kingdom.
I almost strangled someone today, I wonder who will test me tomorrow. I’m going to keep chugging along though because at least I have that right. Once again odds are eating away at my thoughts. Will I fall and stumble or will I stand tall through it all? Today, I’ll stand, and Tomorrow, I’ll walk it off. I’m convinced that through it all, I have to stay focused and believe that what I’m doing is beneficial to everyone that does understand. As I look in the mirror channeling my thoughts on strength I see a feather sitting on the bathroom counter from an old hat. Something or someone is with me, at that very moment my mental becomes stronger. The vision is clear, I’m being used for the greater good…I then smile at myself in the mirror and carry-on. I just got a notice that one of my favorite Olympic athletes finished the race with a broken leg—win, lose or draw she finished. What are the odds of that? If she can do it, I can do it.
The day was brand new and the world had almost seemed like it was coming to a complete end. Generals were out to war and amateurs as always were aspiring to be professionals. Here’s a story about Peter and James.
“I learned something today,” Peter said to his friend James.
James had just got done burning books because he’d rather waste his time watching TV.
“What did you learn Peter?” James asked.
“I learned how to publish a book,” Peter replied.
James took the pages from his ashes and blew them into Peter’s face.
“Peter, I’ve sat in one spot watching TV for my entire life doing nothing. Everything I’ve earned, I’ve been given for free. Haven’t you learned yet? When you do nothing it’s much easier because when you decide to do something the world hates you because they didn’t do it the way you did.
In denial Peter sat there and watched his fat friend James burn the book he’d just published and then boastfully sit on his lawn chair laughing. In total rage, Peter threw a fit then told James the truth about himself and they began to fight.
Out of shape, James fell to the ground wheezing begging for help.
Peter sat and watched his friend gasping for air.
“This is bad James, really bad.” Peter kept saying frantically searching for James’s inhaler.
“Peeettteer, hhhhhhuuu, do something,” James said falling to the ground.
Peter couldn’t help but remember how James had just told him to do nothing so he sat there and watched him beg for help until the ambulance came. James nearly killed himself breathing in all of the smoke from the ashes.
At the end of the day James learned his lesson and decided to be more like Peter. He started doing something and accepted the hate, it made him stronger, especially after he nearly died doing nothing.
Four feet wide and two feet high stood the box which held Emma’s inheritance from her great grandmother. Stockings and dresses. She was born into what was considered a heathen culture, but her bloodline traced all the way back to the Hebrew Hittite tribe. Her mother was a prostitute, but Emma had never been touched. She was put up for adoption at the age of 7 and was separated from her sister and brother after being taken in by a rich family. Fairly uneducated before being adopted, Emma, by divine will became obsessed with learning. Living in an age of sin, corruption and disobedience, God began to speak with Emma in her dreams. He told her to go find her real family so he could use her to cleanse the land.
Basking in the warmth of a summer day’s breeze, Emma could feel the sudden energy of pure divine purpose in her veins.
“Emma, I have prepared a way for you and your family, now I need you to find them and teach them all that you have learned,” God explained to Emma in her dream.
“But God, I still feel like I don’t know enough,” Emma replied.
“Be certain of one thing Emma, that with me you can do anything. All you will need is just one book where I am sending you,” God said.
At the ripe age of 18, Emma left the comfort of her foster family and headed to the city where she was born.
She drove 500 miles in obedience to God only to enter a city filled with gang signs and prostitution. An angel disguised as a janitor led her to her family.
“Emma, come with me,” he said escorting her to her sister.
“Who are you?” Emma asked.
“My name is Phoenix. I will take you to your sister and brother, but I’m sorry to tell you that your real mother was killed some years back. Your older sister ended up having to raise your younger brother,” Phoenix explained as he and Emma walked up the stairs of the building housing her family.
The building was filthy, the floors had been covered in old dirty foot tracks and the walls were embedded with graffiti. Emma could barely see the street lights shining through the dirty glass windows.
Approaching apartment 32, Emma turned to ask Phoenix if he had any help cleaning the building but he was gone.
She glanced around the dimly lit hallway and could smell the funk of human waste. Positioning herself to knock on the door she noticed a large rat running across the hallway floor out of the corner of her eye. Knocking, she felt herself filled with anxiety and a lost for words at the very moment her sister opened the door.
“Emma! Oh Emma! You came all this way to see us,” Ester said embracing her sister. Tears of joy fell from their eyes as they hugged.
“Where is Terrance?” Emma asked before he came rushing out of the back room to get a glimpse of his sister.
“You drove here all by yourself?” Terrance couldn’t help but ask noticing her car keys in her hand.
At this very moment two worlds were colliding and a bond that had been broken had somehow mended back together in a matter of days. Emma and her siblings talked for hours catching up. The moment Emma touched down in this small city, God began to use her in so many ways. She founded a school to educate poor inner city youth and with the help of her brother and sister she also founded a home for women caught up in the web of prostitution. It was evident that something divine had been guiding Emma because every time she opened the book that God gave her a change would occur. The book of Emma was a void that could only be filled by her. The magic of it all was that Emma never looked at her people as heathens or a lower part of society, she loved them just as much as they loved her. Every new venture she took to lead her people to a better standard of living was inspired by every instruction written in her book. In this story you see a process because once Emma’s work was done an entire city had been transformed and the Book of Emma became a reality.
Education has no limits, only standards to make the process easier. In Emma’s case she prepared herself with the belief that God was guiding her to create miracles.
There’s alway hope when one baby leaves the jungle and returns home with a book.
The Book of Emma.
It was a late Saturday evening and I had just got done talking to a Bible scholar about King Solomon and how the world needs better people, then I saw her. Her beauty did something to me. It entrapped me. She literally took my thoughts and I became her subject. The complex physical attraction literally had me under a spell. She said three words: “Come with me.”
At that very moment I was at her command, I couldn’t see or feel anything else but her. You can learn a lot from this story because I couldn’t fight the force. It was too strong, she literally had me under her spell. How did I become so important? What did my life mean to the world? I did everything I could to snap out of it but it was too late. The next morning I woke up and took a bullet hole through the head from her husband. It was like I had no self-control. She trapped me physically and blew my mind.
For a moment I felt motivated to write about the end of the world, goblins and death angels, but the truth is that there is new life all around us. The moment you forget this you’ve already lost 90% of the battle. Everyday we awake there’s a new opportunity, a new motivation, and a new way to do something that many thought would never change. Have a good day.
I’ve been in this war for over 40 years. Blood has been shed all over the place. Taxpayer money has been wasted and my enemy is still fighting. If there is a God of war he is teaching me something. My duty is to obey the orders handed down by my superiors for the greater good of my country all of whom I’ve served well. Cover your eyes and ears because I’m going to reveal a darker ruthless part of mankind. I’ve literally seen people die, to ease my own desires I’ve masturbated on several occasions. We’ve also had prostitutes come in and out to please our fleshly cravings. Some soldiers have even had sex with other soldiers. We’re lost out here, it’s hell on earth. Our eyes have been opened and some of us can’t even sleep. These people don’t want us here. We’ve literally witnessed little children stabbing and blowing up other soldiers. We’ve been sent here to die just to occupy and maintain a presence. If you can’t handle this and it’s too much for you to understand, then go eat at your leisure and enjoy your so called freedom while we’re all the way over seas suffering so you can drink cocktails and argue about the next election. On my way back to base I noticed a black flag. In war it means no mercy, while on the other hand the white flag means surrender. It’s evident that these people want to win and they’ll do it by any means necessary. My wife has just filed for divorce and my pleasure has turned into pain. The battlefield is all I know now. I’ll never be the same. The true nature of mankind has overwhelmed me. This is my fifth tour. I’ve been stabbed, spit on and left for dead only to get up every morning to a hot scolding sun. I’ve had to encourage men from every race to believe that they’re fighting for something, I also killed a man today. If there is a God of war he’s taught me a valuable lesson about life, mankind, and how much, I, as a general can take. The pressure is on me and at anytime I can snap. War is dirty, people die and most enemies will do anything to win. For some reason I had a dream that we evacuated and an explosion left a huge crater in the earth. I don’t know what that dream meant but things were very quiet after I awoke. I have to get you to understand what’s going on. We’re dealing in a war game that will never end. We’ve tried everything but somebody has to pay for every little piece of B.S. that has taken place on my watch because if I make it out alive I’m still going to have to suffer. I took down my home flag in my office today and raised my own little black flag. If my dream is a sign from God then maybe he’s telling me to keep fighting for the greater good of my people with no need to fear what’s on the other side because I’ve already tasted a piece of hell here in combat. Evacuating in a helicopter only to return showed me that peace is an illusion that people convince themselves to believe. This is a war that will never end until every enemy is dead and every taxpayer gets a return on their investment. Nothing is working and nothing will work until people can understand what kind of enemy we’re facing. As a general, I’ve come to learn that there is nothing good about war, nothing. When you’ve spent your entire military career preparing for it the enemy makes you stronger. To conclude my handbook, I have to confess that I have to think like a conqueror and I want to believe that people are naturally good, but this war has proved that belief to be wrong. Most people turn to God when they’re suffering and if there is a God of war he has confirmed that. In the end, if I make it out alive, I will ask him for one thing and that is real peace because this is hell on earth. War is not a fun game, and after you play it over and over again the white lines in your brain will eventually make your mind go numb. We all signed up for hell and eventually you will feel it too, because enemies are like evil termites, they are programmed to make you feel their pain. Their victory comes by making you suffer, making you surrender. Stand strong and try not to fall to your knees. They gain strength by seeing you defeated, it’s how they gain their momentum. A general’s life is centered around finding strategic ways to win. In all actuality he or she can never give up.
The General’s Handbook.
My father opened the gate, and I entered. Some say to save someone you first have to walk a mile in their shoes. Well, I had become so addicted to pleasure that I became numb to the fact that I’d been getting nowhere. And here it was, my meeting with the enemy. I took a second to let it sink in, everyone in the nude and a loaded weapon on the floor. I began to cry. I’d become numb to the feeling of pleasure. What force is guiding me? Who is that telling me to stop? I had seen so much pain through my eyes that I yearned to feel good. I needed it. In the end I had to accept that the loaded weapon could not heal me, so I walked away, only to find out that pleasure was getting me nowhere. The pressure to stop broke me. I needed to achieve something. I needed to be a better person. In deep despair, I took the path less chosen.
No air… all I see is darkness, but it’s quiet. I must be dead because I keep floating. I’m floating into the light, the weightlessness feels like complete peace. It almost seems like infinite room, like the possibilities are endless. I must be in heaven, but it feels like space.
I’m in space.
So, you’re saying I don’t have to pay?
What’s the catch?
At that very moment I walked out of the store with a free item.
I didn’t know what to say.
For some reason I felt like I’d just did something wrong, at any other store I would have had to pay up.
My heart felt light. It was like the weight of the world had been lifted off of me.
Just when I thought I’d reached the peak of all humanity I came back to the store the next day and it was shut down, completely gone out of business.
Damn, my favorite store, gone. I guess somebody eventually has to pay.
I began with a steppingstone, then I wet some sand to form a rectangle. When my tower began to take shape, I placed an eye 👁 on the top of my stones in the shape of a 3D triangle. I kept building. Noticing that my hands began to bleed from laying stones, in the distance I noticed a shepherd tending to his sheep. Watching from the top of my pyramid I couldn’t help but notice slaves splitting my seas to get to freedom. I then split myself in half and transformed the left side of my body into a raven and the right side into a dove. I spread my wings and flew away, I saw everything. I was free, the pyramid was done.
I stood fifteen stories high wondering how to win the game.
The pieces were positioned outside of my favor and my odds of winning were slim.
The politician had my power and my tax money, the corner store and grocery store had my nourishments and the justice department had my will.
The doctor had my medicine and the entertainers had my thoughts.
The reverend had my God and the scientists had my genetic blueprint.
The gym had me running in circles and the teacher indoctrinated me.
The bank had my money and the government had my land.
The university’s had my trades and skills so what move could I make?
I had to figure out who was on my team, how could I win this game?
I slide my piece across the ledge fifteen stories high.
Thinking I’d just made a good move I hear my baby daughter crying.
I have no clue who my opponents are and I can hear my wife searching for me. I’m so confused.
Instead of folding, I get off of the ledge and go back into the small apartment to work on being a better father. I decide to play by the rules and read a book to increase my odds of at least breaking even. I wonder if it’s me against the world.
I almost lost the game of reason.
First it was one, then two, and then four. Earl was a sex-a-holic, dope slinging no good woman banger. After ten years of freedom he had a total of 200 babies out of wedlock. The guy was a savage, his child-support bills were well over three million dollars. Through it all he had his ups and downs, some of his kids loved him and some of them hated him. Earl kept doing Earl until he met his son Little Jimmy. Now at age 8, Earl abandoned Jimmy and before he was born, he dropped Jimmy’s mother off at the hospital and left her there to give birth alone. Little Jimmy’s mother never forgave Earl for this and it almost seemed like Earl’s karma would never catch up to him but it did. It was Father’s Day, 1998, and Jimmy had just graduated. Earl took every dime of his drug money and moved down south with his best concubine to try and run away from his past, but all of Earl’s kids were struggling while big daddy Earl somehow kept smoothing his way out of his duties as a father, but there was something about Little Jimmy.
One night when Earl was asleep he had a dream that Little Jimmy came to visit him on Father’s Day. The dream was so real that he woke up sweating. This was how it started. Even Jimmy’s mother knew there was something special about him. Some how he would appear in places out of nowhere but on the Father’s Day of 1998 the thought of Little Jimmy haunted Earl. He was everywhere. When Earl woke up, he was standing over his bed looking down at him. Earl thought he was losing his mind.
“Did you see him?” Earl said to his concubine.
“See what Earl? What are you talking about?” she replied.
Earl then got up to go take a drive in his car but as soon as he opened the door, Little Jimmy was right there.
“Leave me alone, or I’ll kill you,” Earl screamed.
Shortly after seeing Little Jimmy, Earl turned around and saw his baby girl Shea grabbing his leg.
“Daddy will you play with me?” she said while more of Earl’s kids started to appear.
“Oh God! Help me please!” Earl screamed.
Noticing that he had his motorcycle key in his back pocket he quickly ran in his garage, jumped on his bike, and sped out of the driveway, but the voices were getting louder.
“Daddy come and play with us? Help us? Feed us daddy.”
Earl was losing his mind, he lost his handles on his motorcycle and flipped off then landed head first at an abortion clinic. Laying on the ground bloody and a bit broken up he saw his daughter Cee Cee staring out of the front window of the abortion clinic.
“Cee Cee, help me? Come help daddy up,” Earl said as Cee Cee got closer.
“You remember me daddy, do you want to play with me now daddy?” Cee Cee said getting closer.
Getting closer to Earl, her voice began to change. Earl couldn’t move, all of his aborted children latched on to his soul as he found himself tied to a burning stake.
“Cee Cee, what are you doing?” Earl said watching his daughter’s playing with fire.
It’s play time daddy. They then lit the fire and watched their deadbeat father burn at the stake while they sang songs.
The last thing Earl heard while his body burned was the singing and laughing of his children.
“We love you Daddy,” Little Jimmy said as Earl woke up in a cold sweat.
Realizing that it was all a dream, something changed in Earl. His heart grew three fist larger, he now felt obligated to be a better father and a better man. The next morning he called up everyone of his kids and split every dime he had on them to undo his wrongs. He went to his son Timmy’s graduation and he bought little Jimmy a car. He stopped selling drugs and paid every dollar of back child support and opened up risk free investment accounts for all of his kids. Earl was a changed man, he even went to the women who he forced to have abortions and said sorry. For the rest of his life he lived and served at a rescue mission. He died broke, but left a letter for all of his children to read:
I spent the majority of my youth watching people suffer while I lived it up, but I died hoping for a shot at redemption. I cannot undo my wrongs from the past, but I died trying to make the future better for you all. Learn from me and let your dreams guide you to a better world. I’m sorry.
your father Earl.
“What a dirty old man,” Jane said looking at her husband.
As much as she would talk about him she loved her husband John. They had a unique relationship; John was into music and Jane was into exotic photography. She would get a kick out of watching John come home from work, turn on his record player and listen to Whitney Bison. She was John’s favorite singer. He would always smell like alcohol and would sit there and cry like a little baby listening to her. Outside of this, this was all they knew at the peak of their careers. John’s children would get a kick out of watching him and their mother argue but it was all genuine love. His three daughters and four sons didn’t have much but they had each other. It turns out that Jane’s passion for the exotic photography business caught up with her in a bad business deal that got her killed. Every business has its down side but John knew he had to stay strong for his children. His wife had morals but her passion for the arts somehow got her tangled in a web with the wrong people and John dealt with it for years because of his love for his family. With no wife at home, he dreaded the thought of starting over so his daughters ended up doing most of the cooking and cleaning. The men from his generation were used to women having to take care of the home and just like their mother they would watch their father come home from work and fall back in his chair with tears in his eyes listening to Whitney Bison. Back in John’s peak years life was simple and people stayed in their own lane. He hated that his wife had an odd profession but it didn’t defeat her character, she was a great woman. John would always joke around with her about how she was going to rewrite the garden story in Genesis and dreaded the fact that her passion for the purest form of art got her killed.
When John’s wife died his alcoholism got worse. He drank so much that his kids became concerned.
“Daddy, do you love us?” Lana, his older daughter asked as he sat in his dark cold room watching cowboy movies.
John looked at his daughter with his famous crazy face, “Lana, that’s a dumb ass question.”
She laughed, grabbed his basket and left the room.
John’s children knew that there was no changing their father but living in a time where bread winners kept things in motion they knew they had to keep him alive and happy or they would be separated. One night John came home so drunk that his son Billy got upset.
“Dad, you gon kill us and ‘yo self at the same time. You got to slow down,” Billy said.
John being John hugged his son, smiled as he always did when he got drunk and fell down in his chair after turning on his Whitney Bison Record.
“You remind me of ‘yo mother. You can’t fix the world Billy, it’s got to fix its self,” John said.
Billy got upset.
“Dad, I can’t keep livin’ like this. If something happen to you what’s gone happen to us?”
John pointed to his most famous album cover on his momentous wall, “Billy, I’ll say it again, you can’t fix the world, it’s got to fix its self. Jenny Montgomery put the sun on every one of her album covers. Her highest selling song was titled: ‘As long as the sun rises we keep rising’ now take ‘yo ass to bed and let me handle my woes. Iz got a lot on my mind son, too much for ‘yo young self to handle, but I’m ‘gon get you to the finish line. I promise you that.” This was one of the first times Billy, being the youngest, had ever really heard his dad speak his peace, but it meant a lot to Billy, it was real. This was at a time when the world for him at least, almost seemed a bit too much to handle, but for some reason when father John said something, everything was alright.
The good thing was that John kept his promise. He watched everyone of his kids grow up off of his own strength. For years John stayed in that same spot after every hard day at work and never had a bit of education outside of music. His common sense and will to work with every musician was enough. At age 89 on Father’s Day, he, his children, and all of his grandchildren took a family photo and while at the counter paying for the photos John’s youngest daughter Tina saw a naked picture of him and their mother fall out of his wallet.
“Daddy, what the hell is this?” Tina asked, quickly picking up the photo and making sure no one was paying attention to it.
John smiled while gently taking the photo from her and placing it back into his wallet, “That’s me and ‘yo momma when we started our own baby factory that made you and everyone in our photo.”
Tina started laughing, “You a dirty old man.”
John saw her mother in her when she fed him that line, he then paid the camera man and started humming Jenny Montgomery’s song “As long as the sun rise we keep rising” while he and his family continued celebrating Father’s Day.
It was a cold winter night and I could tell by the room temperature that the furnace was having a hard time kicking on.
“Damn, this is just what I needed,” I said to myself, digging deeper into my thoughts for a solution.
To be honest, it almost felt like everything was falling apart, and my wedding was in the morning. It’s a good thing she decided to stay at her mother’s house so we could do it the right way.
“Ahh, thank god, I can feel the heat revving up. I wonder if this could be a sign of me getting cold feet, I mean why get married at age fifty to someone I’ve only been dating for two months?”
Laying in bed alone, these were the inner voices in my head... I had less than nine hours to make a decision. I tossed and turned while also comprehending the fact that if I showed up tomorrow at the wedding I would have to share my bed with someone for the rest of my life.
I could hear my cousin Damion’s voice, “Marriage is all good until five years later...”
It’s now two o’clock in the morning and I’m still awoke thinking about skipping town.
I get up to go to the bathroom to calm down...
“Why is she in such a rush to marry you? She must have something up her sleeve,” I hear my brother James saying over and over again as I face the mirror.
“Maybe I should call the wedding off until the summertime. Who gets married in the winter anyway? God help me! Why am I so nervous?”
Standing in the bathroom shaking, I feel my heart tighten up. I fall to the ground and flatline right before my wedding day.
The next day everyone goes on as usual until they realize that me and the best man are absent.
James knocked on my door for hours then finally gave up. He assumed that I’d somehow been at the church already and while he stood there freezing cold outside of my house he noticed that he didn’t have his cell phone on him. Panicking he took a look at the time on his watch then rushed over to the church thinking that I was already there. Busting into a crowded church noticing that I wasn’t there he stopped in his tracks only to witness a solo bride searching for her groom.
My high blood pressure got the best of me. The thought of marriage killed me before we even tied the knot. What a tragic ending.
Til death do us part.
The Solo Bride.
“You can do it Coco,” William said, watching his best friend play tennis.
Coco loved the game, she even created her very own logo.
Sports kept Coco going and she valued friendship.
She was very into just about every sport and she loved to compete.
“Friendship is important Coco,” William said, opening up the door for his friend.
Once everyone saw William and Coco practice good friendship they soon tried it too.
Friends care, friends share, and always find a reason to build each other up. This is what William and Coco represented.
Through it all, they remained best buddies. William was always there to cheer his friend Coco on, especially when she played tennis, they became the sparkle in everyone’s eye on what good friendship is all about.
Live, learn, grow, and laugh together, be a good friend.
Her power, her speed and her tender voice set her towers above the rest.
“Naomi, can you please come out and talk to me?” I said, banging on the screen door, hoping to hear her tell me about her magnificence.
Shunning me, she ran into her room.
“Naomi, come and talk to me please, how did you become so magnificent?” I said, begging to get a response.
Looking at her strong legs in the magazines, I had to hear about her workout sessions, but the more I asked the more she began to cry.
“Go away!” she said, slamming the door in my face.
Watching her peeking out of the window at me, I fell to one knee and asked for her magnificent hand in marriage.
She quickly closed the curtain and said no.
Her aura, her passion and her magnificence, made me become a better man.
She was so great that I had no choice but to submit to her demands. I felt a tear fall down my face, I was just grateful for the time she gave me to be in her presence.
I walked away and patiently waited for the day she returned.
Naomi the Magnificent.
If I were to reveal to you what really goes on on the battlefield I’d have to include some form of a higher power.
Military life is a very dirty game that has its ups and downs with little margins for error, but once you’re in, you’re in. Even on my bad days I don’t regret my choice, because it’s made me a better person.
My small story is outside of the combat zone, but like most veterans, I am thankful just to be able to get up and see the light of day.
My mental struggle is to continue to motivate and encourage those carrying on the vision of freedom. Although I’m just a small piece of this very complex puzzle, at times the idea may seem cloudy but I have to replay the battle hymns to see the picture clearly so like many, I don’t forget. It’s still real, there are always forces trying to distort this idea. The idea of freedom.
I do not ask for your sympathy, but I am grateful for another chance at life, this was my promise from the doctors while in my down time as a young sailor. To all of my military brothers and sisters who can relate to this simple Memorial Day tribute, the angels of war will guide you.
Brothers and sisters, if you see a light in the sky or hear a calm voice guiding you along the way, they’re not UFOs but I strongly believe that they’re angels of war, and the saddest part about life is that the normal human mind cannot fathom the belief that such a force exist, but there is a promise to mankind that cannot be undone. To every slave, to every prisoner of war, to everyone suffering, the promise is freedom, a chance to spread your wings. A chance to discover a new world. A chance to believe in something greater than this life, especially when you have to overcome. To be honest, it almost seems as though the war is never over.
Carry-on, and let the Angels of war guide you to the promise land or whatever your place of comfort may be. For many it’s just a place called home.
Salute, and try not to forget. 🇺🇸
Thank You for taking the time to read my thoughts.
GM3 West, another lone sailor waiting on a government paycheck.
The mental struggle is no different from a boxing ring. A fighter literally has the fight his or her way out of the corner. Mentally, the negative voices are telling you that you can’t win, but the positive voices are telling you that you can. These voices seem to corner you every day, even when you’re not fighting.
Jab, body shot, then uppercut, and you’re on the run, stuck in a corner.
This is the moment where you have to use your brain, you have to find a way to fight your way out of the corner. Compared to everyday pressure, it feels like the entire world is watching you fight for your life. You feel your endurance fading. Mentally you’re drained, the cost of losing could put you and your whole family out on the street.
“Get out of the corner, dummy!”
You hear a fan scream outrageously.
Somehow an underdog has to eat. You have to beat the odds or face the unemployment line. Even your sparring partner bet against you. The pressure is on and now you’re trapped in the corner.
Somehow, someway, you land an unbelievable uppercut. The power shot rattles your opponent and the crowd jumps to their feet.
“Go for the kill shot! Get him now!”
You hear your trainer scream.
Bam! You deliver the knockout blow.
Your net worth shoots up to $50,000 and there’s no turning back now. Just about everybody you know likes a winner and there’s a pretty good chance that the person you just knocked out is going to want a rematch. Hate it or love it, you’re now a meal ticket, and just like life, you survive to fight another day.
Every champion somehow has to fight their way out of the corner.
I sat my paper down then I saw a screen glowing picture.
I fell down the stairs and got back up only to limp and fall again.
Depression almost got the best of me, but my thoughts saved me and I was determined to climb the tower.
I got to the top and sat there until I thought of something else.
I guess this is the purpose of living.
Exploring and seeing how far your thoughts can take you.
As high as it may seem, the tower goes beyond the clouds.
It goes beyond the depths of space.
It’s thinking until everything fades to black.
The past, present and future...
How high can you climb?
How far can your thoughts take you?
In the end all that’s left is for others to track your thoughts.
It’s a priceless journey, it’s a tower of thoughts.
This child of mine named Judah has a habit of wandering off into the jungle and getting himself into trouble.
“Judah come back home and make holy music with me please so we can save our tribe,” I screamed at him in frustration of how foolish he’d become, but once again he turned away.
My mercy could only last for so long before I poured out my wrath, for I was getting old and tired of my visions from God being stolen away. This became certain to me when I watched someone dear to me drop dead from a drug overdose. I was certain that only a gift from God’s eternal spirit could save my people but something happened over time that turned them away.
Realizing that I could not save the world alone, this was my last call for Judah.
Calling him as loud as I could, I then saw an army with Judah in the distance ready to make holy music to save a dying world.
My heart opened up and I embraced my son as he fell to his knees with me, for he was tired and worn out by the ways of this wicked world in which only the holy sounds of Judah could save. In our reconciliation he grabbed his drum and I sat at my piano, we put an end to the foolishness and began to make good music. Everyone dropped their weapons and began to vibe to our angelic sounds.
Last call for Judah. 🦁
Everyone in Beaver Village lived on a hill and Brian the rebel sat on a log pondering how to defeat his enemies. Everyday he dreaded his life conditions and yearned for a new beginning.
Neither he nor his people had any skills in combat but on his excursion, destined for failure, Brian started to learn about fate and luck. He’d come to realize that it was his only option to escape his circumstances. He and his people were terrible at everything. It’s almost as if they had no escape.
This story may sound odd but as a general on the battlefield sometimes your number one weapon is your brain. With hardly no strong weapons or even depth, Brian started to believe in this new idea of fate and luck. His strategy may sound strange but it made sense. Seeing that the people in his Village were divided on everything and his natives were not brave enough to overcome, his odds of freeing their mind were very slim. Comprehending the fact that his opponents wanted to win and had all of the power, Brian decided to lose. His strategy made sense because of his circumstance, and the simple fact that his soldiers didn’t care about him at all. There just wasn’t any bravery or loyalty. Some of them were even siding with the enemy. Brian struggled with the courage of his people, he literally watched his army work for combatants and do it for free. There enemies didn’t even have to fight because they kept working for them and exchanging every bit of information that they could, not knowing that they were being slowly exterminated. It took one night for Brian to figure out his strategy, while also comprehending the fact that he was all alone in his battle to protect nothing but his life. Here’s how this story ends, when Brian was a child his father also worked for the enemy and in exchange he and his family got to live by the local village dam, all the enemy wanted in return was cheap labor. Everyday Brian was learning about water and how to work the dam because of his fascination of beavers. To make a long story short his strategy was simple, let the cards fall and see where they land, don’t even try. Brian’s enemies had all of the might, firepower, land and even skill. I mean how could he win? If it was his destiny to lead his people and win, then try to lose. Tired and worn out from cutting down trees all day he took a small excursion back to the dam and noticed a fire burning in the distance, now this was no high tech dam but it got the job done for the village people needing the water pressure to push the gears that made things move. Brian tried everything to put out the fire near the dam but failed miserably. After a while it began to spread, everything had been set ablaze and no one knew how the fire even started. Brian watched everybody trying to save themselves in the tiny village filled with trees and wild animals. The dam was near everyone’s camp and the only thing that was not on fire was the water in the dam, so in the midst of being surrounded by his enemies and his people trying to save themselves, he jumped in his small boat and rowed it against the current at the bottom of the small dam. Watching everyone burn to death he continued rowing in his boat. Tired from rowing, he evaluated the odds of what he’d just witnessed. The truth was that he’d been alone and had only one way to win and establish a new beginning. Fate was the only solution that he could come up with to cure the harsh living conditions of he and his people. Watching everything and everyone around him burn to the ground, he stopped rowing and sailed away with the current. The water pushed him to Paradise Valley, where he spent the rest of his days in harmony with new people who embraced him.
The Excursion of Fate
(Each poem, story or piece of literature is edited day to day so please bypass any errors.)
A small ounce of gold for my thoughts please, paid forward with a good deed...
I then delightfully take the microphone to deliver my physical equation...
I hear someone drop a book...
In the distance I see her, but she has no physical clue that she’s naked in a garden filled with scholars and academics until she eats off of a tree filled with knowledge, she then realizes that her eyes are opened...
I kindly give her life the moment she touches me...
Who discovered the Big Bang?
Was it religion or science?
Has science physically destroyed common sense?
Do humans have a purpose or do we just sit still, deceive each other and die?
A piece of physical territory is precious to those with no home.
Whom does the earth belong to? Is it nature’s or is it the creator’s?
Where is he?
Where is she?
Does he or she have the deed?
Did he create humans to destroy his physical planet?
Picture smoke in thin air, opening up gateways to other places when you inhale it...
Bombs killing newborn babies, what religion or holy people does this and then worships at altars?
Guilty to face the creator who will be the judge after this life...
Guilty for these people who have lost their minds...
Living matter splattered into tiny pieces.
Is the earth just a huge bomb ticking, waiting to explode?
In my poetry I see prophets...
I see Egyptian statues with physical exploding noses, drawings on giant horses with no clue of the historical value...
I see Israeli physical holy shrines being blown into a thousand pieces by enemies...
Does it ever end?
I see traffic moving in every direction with no physical thought of what’s really at stake.
Who even cares?
I see a drug dealer looking out for the bottom dollar with drug zombies everywhere...
I see a president’s face on the last and first dollar...
What is physical?
Is it knowing?
Is it seeing?
Or is it the bomb that blows my living flesh into a thousand pieces?
Maybe the person who invented the bomb should’ve kept quiet.
Maybe he should have physically fought for peace.
What was his true ambition?
Was he good or was he evil to reveal the secrets of the universe?
Was it his imagination or his hunger for more?
There’s star dust everywhere...exploding into bigger pieces...
Discovery is never enough for anyone, there always has to be more until there’s nothing left but complete physical silence...
Two triangles in the shape of stars...
Complete darkness and exploding lights...
Where did everybody go?
She then realizes what she has just done and gets kicked out of the garden...
I follow her as we explode again into a billion people...
We all sit and break bread in eternal peace...
The Physical Equation
1. People are jumping out of windows and doors are slamming.
2. Someone yells, “Get on the floor they’re shooting.”
3. You hear uncontrollable screaming and see people scattering.
4. Everything has somehow gone silent and you feel warm blood dripping from your ear.
5. You hear shots being fired but can’t see anyone and the shots seem to be getting closer.
6. If you didn’t before, you start believing in God again because your probability of living is slim.
7. You develop the vision of saving people but you can’t because your life is also in the hands of the person with the weapon.
8. You’re trembling, shaking, and feel uncontrollable anxiety.
Believe in God but to look a goddess in the eyes when you’re born is confirmation that God exist.
A mother who travels through the underworld, left alone in the woods to save and give birth to her child.
Through the journey of fire and flames, through the pits of hell to be born in a human vessel to make sure her child makes it through this life.
She spreads her wings...
She saves us...
Mom, the Superhero.
May God show mercy to all children who have to travel through this life without the guiding light of a good mother.
Her compassion endures forever, for she knows the will of those forces which are unknown to the common man.
For she feels the spirit of truth and only lies to protect her children.
She is aware when there is hope and only leaves us in a place of security so that our world is made better.
Even if abandoned, the truth is that mom knows the world.
Mom, the Superhero.
A mother knows her children, she names them in hopes that he or she will meet her expectations.
For those mothers who are scarred and broken, another mother steps in and guides them through the darkness.
A mother faces off against the forces of evil over a million times until her job on earth is done.
She provides time, space and has a built in home.
She provides milk and love to enrich the human soul for if she doesn’t, she’s lost.
May God have mercy on the child without the guiding light of a mother.
And when our journey is complete my friends, word on the street is that it will be up to mom to allow us into the gates with the rest of our bloodline.
I’ll say it again, she travels through the depths of hell and the underworld to give us life, she saves us from the pit of hell so we may be welcomed where we belong.
Her mercy gives us hope for a second chance.
When she is left for dead, she finds her way.
When she is forgotten, she makes a statement for other lost moms to remember.
If she makes a mistake, she tries, then tries again.
Mother knows best, and if she doesn’t then let God’s will be done.
Her words are everlasting...
They provide strength in times of heartache and sorrow.
She gives us a chance at life...
Only her grace can save us...
Mom, the Superhero.
She saves the day...then the sun 🌞 comes out.😊
It took weeks for Ryan to find a job.
It took years for Ryan to own a business.
In a field full of hunger Ryan filled out the application.
He was called crazy, but he was working, due to fear of starvation.
Ryan didn’t have a clue, the earth began to shake, the bombs began to fall from the sky but Ryan kept working and no one knew why.
His wife cheated and left him for dead, his best friend slept with her and then grew dreads but that man Ryan kept showing up everyday for work. One of his best customers even called him a jerk.
His father’s leg fell off and he literally watched the church he attended his whole life burn to the ground but he clocked in as though he were lost and found.
He eventually ended up owning the place, while learning the ends and outs he ended up purchasing more space.
He was made from the dust and never knew he would be called to do anything, but little did Ryan know was that his hunger led him to fulfill the American dream.
His work ethic and ability to show up was the fuel that his people needed.
Most of them had become lazy and heavily weeded.
Ryan, oh Ryan, what have you done? You’ve stirred up the crowd who rather enjoyed having fun.
You’ve outworked the whole nation that failed to remember that gruesome cold feeling of hunger and starvation.
Ryan, oh Ryan, why did you apply for the job? Was it really that bad for the other workers who quit and just didn’t want to be involved?
Ryan, oh Ryan, now you sit in an honorary position because you believed in the dream and stayed away from superstition.
You’re vision lit a fire under the next generation, all because you showed up to work even after your graduation.
At the end of Ryan’s journey his message was clear, you’re never too rich or to poor in a world filled with spears. Spears that are sharp and they stab you when least expected so stay on your toes and encourage those who’ve been neglected.
Ryan was dumb but he saw the light, he showed up for work and did his job day and night.
They laughed at him and called him names all because he applied for a job that brought others shame.
In the end, Ryan became a legend, for the God fearing dummy worked his way to heaven.
At his gravesite in a field full of heroes, people til this day still come to visit just to be reminded that ones are greater than zeros.
They all remembered the day when Ryan first applied now because of him the help wanted sign is still alive.
The moral of this story is simple: Fun in the sun doesn’t get the job done.
A field full of flowers, who will help them grow?
As sweet as a honeycomb, how will it flow?
A bear’s meal and a sticky human’s thrill, a wonder in a world still yet to be revealed; places unseen and yet to be discovered, but what would you do if your kingdom was in trouble?
In a hexagon shape, lost in the human race while glancing at the wonders of space...
Trials and tribulation, mass incarcerations...
A cycle never ending, is the next species in line pending?
Why does the honeybee sting?
Wax for a burning candle sitting on a wooden mantel...
If the queen bee is killed, won’t the colony be left to rebuild...
Will the flowers still grow? Will the sun still shine tomorrow? Will the honey still flow?
Does the buzzer only know?
Is that why the honeybee stings?
How simple of a weapon, like the thorns on a rosebush protecting the beauty of nature...
It’s as simple as writing your defense plans on paper...
I know why the honeybee stings.
After a long day of protesting for fifteen-dollars an hour wages, Robert showed up late to work and also noticed that the drive-thru was filled to the end of the parking lot with cars. He quickly clocked-in and put on his headset, “Thank you for choosing Burger Depo where we take pride in constructing your order, build your order when you’re ready.”
“Umm, I’d like three orders of fresh skyscraper fries 🍟 please. And can you make sure they are fresh.”
“You’re order blueprint comes to a total of eight-dollars and ninety-nine cents, please pull around.”
After waiting in line for a whole thirteen minutes, Covina paid what was due, received her order, but after driving away from the drive-thru window as a courtesy to the other waiting customers, she soon noticed that her fries were far from fresh. Holding a greasy bag of cold fries, she was pissed. She was so upset that she sped around to the front parking lot and was eager to get her money back. In a rage, she took notice to how packed the place was so she stepped on the gas and drove right through the front entrance of the fast food restaurant. Her rage didn’t end there, in the midst of all of the screaming and chaos she managed to get out of the car. Bloody, with her bag of cold fries, she went to the back of the now empty building and dropped her some fresh fries.
Fresh Fries 🍟 Please
It was in the spring of 1996, Sa’Riya’s first time ever on a track. She could literally smell the clay. Her first experience ever running was from a doctor when she was just a baby and too afraid to get a shot. Stretching, she searched for her mother and father in the stands but only noticed her best friend’s family who never missed a moment. The first phase of childhood is overcoming your fears, this was Sa’Riya’s moment. Nervous, she dreaded the thrill of competition, it was like a rollercoaster ride that she’d been too afraid to participate in until now. Her race was next and still there was no sign of mom and dad. Nausea started to set in, right along with doubt and how she would be talked about like a dog if she lost. Overhearing the announcer call last call for 800 meter runners, she felt her heart drop. The butterflies in her stomach were flying wild. This was it, her first race. Lacing up her track spikes, she noticed that most of the runners in her heat had no socks on while she’d been trying to make a fashion statement. This showed her lack of understanding when it came to wind resistance. It also proved which team had been well coached, but the fear of failure could drive any young kid to victory, and could drive anyone afraid of it to want to be successful no matter what they had on. Her heat was up, she stood tall on the track while her teammates looked on encouraging her. She nearly tripped while being called to the line, “Runners to your mark...get set...” POW! They were off to the races. Off to a slow start, Sa’Riya held steady in fourth place, she regretted wearing heavy socks because she could feel them weighing her down. Breathing in her nose and out of her mouth, she eased her way into third place while approaching the second lap. Her eyes were heavily focused on the front runner. Keeping her pace well into the second lap, she knew she had to pick it up. Her fear of failure gave her a second wind, right along with another ounce of strength to be neck and neck with the runner in first place. With one-hundred meters to go, she kicked it in down the home stretch and could literally feel the energy of the home crowd cheering her on... she won. Vomiting on the grass, and overwhelmed with anxiety, her fear of failure drove her little body to the max. She fell face first in her own vomit and didn’t move until her teammates rushed to pick her up. Noticing her dad’s face out of the corner of her eye, she quickly straightened up. She did it, she faced her fear and officially became a runner. Her fear of failure brought the beast out of her. Her fear of failure turned her into a champion. First place prize for Sa’Riya in her first race, this very moment caused her to never look back. She faced her fear.
Afraid to Fail.
“Today’s meeting is all about grabbing the customer. Our marketing has to be based on their needs and wants,” Larry explained.
Jacob couldn’t help but notice Jeremy on the ledge outside of the window of the building while they were having their annual sales meeting.
“Umm, Larry, I think Jeremy is trying to kill himself,” Jacob said while Larry proceeded on with the meeting.
Rob noticed also, “Yeah, I think we better try and talk him down.”
Larry wiped the sweat off of his face due to the air conditioning budget being slashed, “If you were smart you would focus on these numbers, Jeremy was out partying last night while his wife was at home sick with COVID-19 and if we don’t straighten this company out then we’ll all be on the ledge too, now focus on these numbers and let the fire department and church counselors do their job. I’m too ashamed to tell you what else he was doing,” Larry said, gaining his team’s full attention.
Realizing that Jeremy had flushed his entire career down the drain, Jacob and Rob closed the blinds and proceeded with the sales meeting. Larry then took his dry board marker and went to the next chart. Comprehending that they all still had a job, Larry’s message was clear. Somehow, someway, the bills had to be paid and the business doors had to stay open.
I met a poet today—moved by her words I could tell by the title of her poem that she was scarred. Her poem was called “Bodies,” she intertwined her message around all of the bodies that she had to walk over because of drugs. Relating to her message my eyes began to water. If no one has ever lost a loved one from drug addiction the truth is it’s real and very hard to dodge. Hearing her pour out her poetic vibes, she gave me inspiration. I’d lost hope in the battle to stop the drug war, and like her, I’d saw body after body piling up. After finding out that she was struggling with the habit herself I’d come to the conclusion that physically I had to stay strong. When she stepped off of the stage I proceeded to greet her. She shook my hand and asked me what body was I tripping over. I smiled and told her about all of the people that I’d lost due to drugs. Sadly after purchasing her book, I later found out that she’d lost the battle also. Depression consumed her and the street life was just too much for her to handle. She died of an overdose. Seeing another body, I reflected on the very last day that we spoke. Here I was, saddened by her loss and still trying to battle with my own demons. Reading through her poems, I noticed that she left a message by where she signed her book. Her message was clear: “In this life, all I’ve ever had are my words, my only hope comes from a pen and a pad. Fall down, get up, and say no to drugs.”
It was clear that she’d never intended on losing the battle, that’s what hurt me the most. The only hope of winning the drug war was to say no to drugs, in a room filled with dead bodies from overdoses and drug dealers hustling, her message was clear.
Say no to drugs.
Old man Jerry had been running and losing his entire life. The man was a solid 140 pounds and never gave up on his vision for a photo finish. At age 60 all of his competitors had literally tapped out but old man Jerry was still running. Feeling the urge to compete, Jerry noticed an ad for a death race in the paper so he entered it. The odds of old man Jerry winning were very slim. The conditions in this race were harsh—people were passing out, falling, and even quitting. The temperature stood at 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and somehow someway the fire had still been burning in old man Jerry, he ran the death race neck and neck with a 45 year old man who would exchange leads with old man Jerry the entire race. Noticing the finish line in sight they battled to the finish of the four mile race. Losing by an inch, old man Jerry dived breaking the tape at the finish line and won the first race of his career. He’d done the impossible, his entire life he was labeled the fool who just wouldn’t stop running but somehow he was the last man standing from his generation. Old man Jerry had now set the standards and had 60 year olds all over the world trying to beat his record. Old man Jerry beat his opponents with longevity, he out lasted them all and won at the exact moment when everyone needed a winner. He never gave up and smiled for the camera at the finish line. The grand prize for the winner of the death race was free Medical Care for the rest of the winner’s life. The old man did the impossible.
I see you’ve failed...
Get up and try again.
I see you’re unclean...
Find some water and wash yourself off.
I see that you’re lost...
Follow the brightest star and I promise you’ll find your way.
I see your troubled...
Take a second, I know the world is moving too fast for you to keep up.
You’re afraid, and alone, drowning in your own state of a conscience battle.
Here is a pen and a pad, on the third day of your sorrow and pity I want you to create your own world through some form of art then together we’ll rise.
Together we’ll resurrect.
Together we’ll create a better world.
Why give up now?
We’ll get it done on the 3rd day.
The philosopher’s diary:
Balance is a law of nature; at times it may be wise to take a second and think before you act, for we all can fall victim to insanity. Deception is clever.
Evil is blind in some sense because it kills, steals, and destroys at will while taking joy in doing so without a care in the world, never seeing or showing mercy to good. Evil is blinded by evil. The insanity of evil is a mental condition that traps a person inside of their own madness in which many people feel they have to protect themselves from, which is understandable because it’s logical to have some form of defense to protect oneself from evil.
Evil will ruin your day.
It’s hard to understand, it’s confusing.
There is a lesson to learn from such a force.
Good people repent, good people forgive, good people congratulate, love and care.
Good people watch as days go by and are humbled by the opportunity to have a chance at life.
Sometimes good people cry and even take joy in standing up for good.
When good people find themselves in unusual circumstances they desire to be treated fair and good because good people feel they are worth more to the world than the evil they have to deal with.
Justice weighs heavily on those who take pride and honor when it comes to legal matters, no one is immune to the law especially if we don’t know what rules to follow. Justice is a web that good people get tangled in because of evil, but eventually the dust settles.
Good people study and practice good habits because they have enough wisdom to know that evil can creep in any day and take good joy away in which only good people can restore.
To show more attention to foolish and evil ways is why many good people cannot comprehend life, because at times this may seem unfair.
Why should someone who has been good their entire life and who also is an asset to the people around them fall victim to an evil and unjust deed? That answer we may fail to comprehend at the moment when evil creeps in, but in time we somehow begin to understand. The fact is that we all must die and return back to the source from which we came, but to lose sight of this one fact would be like detaching our mind, body and spirit from reality. The truth is stay on guard, be ready when you have to fight for more life. Look evil in the eye and defeat it with the forces of good, don’t be foolish and think you can win with a smile, bust a move, make whatever evil that comes your way want to be good. Is a stray tiger your friend? Hell no! It wants to eat you, so either fight or run like the blazing wind. Life is precious and sometimes we lose and sometimes we win, so find a way to improve your odds. This is true, it’s reality.
The truth about good and evil is simple; one should have enough sense to recognize the other and the other is blinded by one thing: “Hate.”
Show love, have a good day 😊
The truth about good & evil.
Thou shalt love women was written for crazy women, smart women, handicap women, dumb women, evil women, good women, sad women and happy women, every kind of woman. Thou shalt love women:
I found myself in a corner today trying to control my thoughts, “Help me Lord,” I can’t stop thinking about them, are you a woman God because everyday I’m thinking about women? Yellow women, black women, green women, orange women, white women, brown women, pink women, purple women—every color, shape, and size kind of woman. I know it’s normal because the Bible says thou shalt love women so it can’t be wrong for me to love women because without them there wouldn’t be anybody here. Men fight over women just to get a blessing from them. We look at them and it makes us feel alive, we talk to them and they make us feel better. If it’s wrong for men to love women then we’re all going straight to hell. Even when we sleep they’re on our mind, even when they upset us we still squint at their shine. If it’s child support that makes us men sad, I know there’s a woman who will make us feel glad. Forgive us men for being too hard, for if we kill a woman then we must be scarred. I’m amazed at how pleasant they are, you’re great God for giving us men women to heal our pain. Only a merciful God would be so great to give his most prized creation a help mate.
Thou Shalt Love Women
The curtain opens:
“I’ve shown you grace and mercy for three days straight, I told you that I paid that bill a few days ago. One day you’ll listen to me and stop treating me like trash,” Eugene said to his wife.
Feeling his rage, Evelyn gave up on her point, she then did the dishes as she always did before she’d cook, then she and her family ate together. After dinner she apologized to her husband and each of them kissed then consoled their differences. She knew she was right the entire three day argument but because of her grace she allowed her husband to make a fool out of himself after she paid the bill in which he told her that he’d paid.
The curtain closed.
The stage manager came out:
He thanked the crowd and introduced the cast.
They all came out and took a bow.
The audience clapped then left the theater with hospitality and grace.
3 Days of Grace
In hard times, smile.
When you’re low on cash, smile.
Even when things are going so good that you have doubts, smile.
Smile at the funeral, smile at the park, smile when you lose and smile at the shark.
Smile when you win and smile when you sin.
Smile on your day off and when you go in.
Smile for the camera, smile in the mirror, the more you smile the more things become clearer.
What is a day without a good laugh?
The more you smile the less you feel sad.
⚠️ Warning, this story contains graphic content, but like all literature it’s worth a read.
The secret was simple, make them believe that the island was amazing and they would do anything to visit. The government of Amazing Island knew that if they could sell this one idea and the people believed it that they would come at any cost.
What you have to understand is that the people on Amazing Island were not amazing at all, they just held the secrets of making people believe that the only way to feel amazing was to come to Amazing Island 🏝.
It took twelve months to pass before people started noticing something strange going on because the people who would visit would come home and try to imitate everything they witnessed on this island. It was like a cult, because some people wouldn’t come back at all. If they saw someone making a movie on the island, they would try it, if they saw someone break dancing on the island, they would try it. It was clear that something strange was going on on Amazing Island.
People would report about strange lights from flying saucers, walking octopuses and spying spiders. Dolphins 🐬 that could speak many different languages, trees with giant fruit and humans with purple hair.
After numerous reports of some people visiting the island and never returning, Paul decided to go investigate. What he found on his journey was like a gateway to another world. He found himself in a trance when the natives of the island 🏝 kept serving him the coca leaf. Too much to handle, Paul found himself passed-out naked on the beach while the natives tied him to an abandoned barge while chanting in front of a huge statue shaped like a goat. Every time Paul would scream the natives got louder. This was the secret of Amazing Island, that remained untold. Kidnappings, sex slaves and human sacrifices to awaken savage gods. Paul screamed but no one could save him. Paul had never believed in God, he was an atheist his entire life until he became a captive to be sacrificed by the natives of Amazing Island. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed tribal women dancing half naked. Paul screamed for God to save him as the natives began cutting away at his skull. “Lord help me please,” he screamed noticing the blood dripping from his head. Not long after screaming for God’s help his country’s Navy came in to rescue him.
Once the story broke about Amazing Island 🏝 no one ever visited there again, but what ever gateway they opened, it could be seen shining like a bright purple light in the night sky from afar.
Beware when you see or hear about amazing things my child because behind closed doors could be a secret that might be too much for you to handle.
At their altar there was a table with humans singing hymns. They painted a picture of utopia and drank blood sacrifices in the name of their king. Beware my child, for the pictures on their walls have changed colors over time and their gods are stolen. If you need proof follow the historical art. An amazing secret 🤐 for an Amazing Island 🏝.
I was content until my mental state collapsed...
It was like a voice that spoke to me when I was alone...
But it was the truth, actually most people are miserable... searching for something to keep their blood flowing...
I was no different from everyone else, I was a woke lonely schizophrenic, wounded from being out to sea for too long.
I thought I could walk on water but slipped and cracked my fragile skull on the ocean ice while a sailor named Peter left me for dead to save the ship.
The truth is that sailors have no way off the ship in the middle of no where unless a helicopter comes to fly us back to land.
Gunshots flew by my face cracking the ice while I was trying to keep my balance and hang on to the helicopter...
Rescuing me from terrorist the helicopter landed on top of a building...
Unsatisfied while reflecting on the mental state of my people I jumped from the building, it was a skyscraper...
Falling...splat...I hit the ground.
Everyone who waited for this moment, everyone who knew I lost it just stood there and looked at my lifeless body put itself back together and bounce back up.
They all ran like hell, screaming like they’d never seen a man fall 88 stories and put himself back together.
I bounced back up, went home, cleaned my basement and said “screw it,” I opened up my own business in the middle of the ghetto.
My life was a train wreck, why end it myself, I survived an 88 story jump... “I must be here for a reason,” I said to myself talking down the robber who stood up my store.
I kindly told this fool, “What in the hell you ‘gon rob me, Super Jim’s Mart for? Don’t you know I just survived an 88 story jump. Do you need a job?”
He put the gun down and filled out an application. I paid that fool twenty dollars an hour to secure my store.
The truth was that the fall made me better.
It made me feel like if I could survive that, I could survive anything.
I became grateful after surviving that fall...
Humble is a better word...
I bounced back up and lived forever.
In the end, I was the last man standing...
Jungle Jim, standing on an elephant watching the sunrise, the only man on earth to defeat death and live to tell about it.
Every time I hit the ground, I bounced back up.
Take a second or two to wonder why the rose has thorns.
Pinch a nerve and feel a section of the body go numb while another part becomes stimulated.
A gun, a dog, a bullet proof vest, and surveillance only for a sense of security.
Whom or what are we afraid of?
A child wakes up in the middle of the night and decides to sleep with mommy and daddy.
Is a wall made to be climbed?
Does a world of threats teach us to sleep with one eye open?
A military guard stands watch.
Bodyguards hovering over the people with plenty.
A pathway through a dark alley with the thought of reaching a safe haven playing over and over again in the mind.
Will it ever end?
Will we ever get to stop running and hiding from them, it, he or her?
What will it take to be comfortable?
Confusion in the wild.
Darkness in the wilderness.
Is security equivalent to peace?
Where did all of these enemies come from?
Saying no to feel safe.
The boss parking in the back.
The hard glass where the cash is.
All for a sense of security.
It was about mid afternoon and I’d just given change to a man on the street. I have no clue where the man came from but after I gave him the money he said God bless you and then he gave me his soul with assurance.
I then proceeded about my day and attended a funeral and watched a preacher shaving the wool off of his sheep. He later sold the wool to make a profit. I’m assuming the buyers were either sinners or heathens because he drove off in a sports car while they went home to get drunk and merry. I’m not sure where he went, but I’d been left to record with my camera.
I then turned on the radio and listened to two political parties battling it out—one had the hammer and the other had the purse. I’m assuming they were fighting for power. I then proceeded to take my memory card out of my camera when it fell to the ground, I had to drop to my knees to catch it. Startled, I noticed my hand had been shaking, I guess something was bothering me.
While on my knees, I noticed that the camera was made in another country. I scratched my head because I’d just saw a spy who’d been watching and taking pictures of me making T-shirts without slave labor or drug money. The spy ran off and I heard that he sold the images of me and everything else to his country’s government. I’m not sure if they were an enemy or an ally.
After this revelation, I realized that I’d been alone in this particular fight. I later took my pictures and released them for the world to see and unknowingly started a revolution. My road ahead was now clear that I was in the middle of a jungle surrounded by people trying to hold on to their paychecks and if I sold the truth then all hell would be unleashed. In the end, the subjects in the picture were clear but the background was out of focus. Some people were standing but their habitat had been destroyed.
The door slams, Dakota watches her husband slam his stethoscope on the table, “What’s wrong Ajay? Why are you so upset?”
“All of my patients are dying and I’m tired,” he explained.
“Are they really dying...if you tried to save them?” Ajay’s wife asked with a straight face.
“Dakota what the hell are you talking about? Stop with the games. I’m a doctor, my job is to save lives and nothing is working.”
Dakota shakes her head, “Ajay, sometimes people just need something to believe in, it helps them heal. If they die, does that make it your fault?”
Ajay looks at the pictures of his family “Mrs. Shaw, her family did thank me. They sent me a gift card with their whole family’s signatures on it. I’m loved by all kinds of people from many different races, even when I’ve felt like a failure. Some of my patients who’ve lived have even named their kids after me.”
His wife begins to cough.
“Are you okay?” Ajay says.
She starts laughing.
“The power to believe in something is what heals people Ajay. It’s what motivates us to make miracles happen. Medicine can only do so much. I can guarantee that if you can find what made you become a doctor you’ll feel much better.”
Ajay paused for a second, “It was the war in Vietnam, my father was on the front lines and the doctor said it was in God’s hands when he died, and I wanted God to save my father, but he died right before the war ended. I became a doctor because I didn’t understand the point of him fighting if he had to die so young. I was driven to make a difference,” Ajay explained to his wife.
“You wanted to make a difference out of a misunderstood equation. Think of it like a museum, a child walks through inspired to carryon the legacy of others. No one knows what a child will become and that’s the most powerful thing. The child develops this belief, and it never dies unless the child gives up. Your museum is yet to be discovered, and you may never know how some child will find it to have something to believe in. The funny part is that you might not even know where your museum will be found. It’s a win win situation for you Ajay, why give up now? Death is only the beginning of another journey. If your face is the last face that people see before they die, most likely they’re preparing your legacy on both sides. One will be of what’s left here and the other will be to rest up from all of the trials and hard work you put in on earth. Why give up when you’re giving each side something to believe in?”
Ajay smiled, kissed his wife and carried on with his practice. It was too late to give up now. Sometimes the patient is what gave the doctors their strength. Their ability to mediate between life and death flowed through each generation to provide more determination to overcome the odds. The doctor set the standards which gave people enough determination to create a Doctor’s Museum for the world to see. If crazy is misunderstood, who would be crazy enough to try and fix the misunderstanding? Most likely the person trying to solve the problem.
The Doctor’s Museum
The fire to lose sucked the life out of people and there was no one better at it than Edward and his brother Willie. These brothers were so good at losing that they started their own club.
Willie approached the microphone that they would place on the bench and pickup, “Brothers, we are the scum of every sport, the reason for defeat. We die because we lose. When the game is on the line we miss layups, we drop passes and most of all we love to be booed. Brothers, I’d like to dedicate this first meeting to those who seek to separate us, those terrible winners who separate blacks from whites, democrats from republicans and girls from boys just so they can feel like winners. Little Jerry, it’s time to approach the bench and tell the story about how you got cut from the team.”
Little Jerry stood tall, “I knew the coach hated me because I was injury prone. So when I got healthy and he put me in in the fourth quarter I stuck it to him by missing the game winning layup and that cotton picking master cut me from the team.”
The losers club cheered, they went crazy as little Jerry replayed the replay on his presentation screen.
“Look at his face fellas, look at me suck the life out of the most winningest team in college basketball history during Black History Month. My mother would be so proud of me,” Little Jerry explained as the losers club embraced him.
Edward approached the microphone in tears as they all cheered, “Good men, I’d like to first thank the losing president who gave us welfare and social programs to survive. I’d like to thank all of the women who try to get us for child support when we have nothing left. And most of all I’d like to thank every losing player cut from the teams that fuel those raging obsessed fans who give us hell. In closing, fellas, how does it feel to be forgotten? How does it feel to miss every winning shot? How does it feel to be assassinated for standing up to winners who cheat and take all kinds of supplements to make us look like the infidels? But most of all brothers, how does it feel to be losers? Brothers, there’s justice in losing.”
The Losers Club