The Revolution

 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 Revolution 

The Doctor’s Museum

 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 Losers Club

 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

The Goddess of Life

 It was a bitter cold winter night and I’d just listened to a man begging for cash for thirty minutes. I guess he didn’t believe me when I told him that I didn’t have any money on me. To be honest I’d been confused and left for dead myself. I’d just lost my first professional fight and after I paid all of my bills I only had enough money left to get through the week. Ironically, it was Black History Month and my dream of being remembered amongst the greatest was slowly fading away. No matter what you hear, the truth is that no one wants to sign a contract with a loser. I guess God must have had mercy on me because something strange happened to me that night in my dark room drowning in my sorrows. I’d been sitting in a chair listening to an old radio and that’s when it happened; I heard her voice. Her words were so inspirational, I had to find out who this woman was so I searched for her name on the internet with my phone. It turns out that her stage name was “The Goddess of Life” and her real name was Life Houston. I guess she was an up and coming gospel singer. Every word this woman sang gave me life. I swear, her words lifted my soul to the heavens. I needed her. I left everything, my house, my car, “everything”. I spent the majority of what I had left to get to her once I received enough information about her whereabouts. There she was, singing at a church in the slums of Liberty Ohio. It turns out that her father was a preacher and I got word from some of her followers that she’d never been touched by a man, they told me she was a virgin. I know this was none of my business, but I guess she was the new main attraction. In the middle pews I sat, a no good fighter who’d been battling a porn addiction, and obsessed with someone I’d never even met. The truth hurt me more than anything—I was not worthy of a pure soul so I left only to hear her voice singing as I exited the church. For some reason a tear fell down my face, for I never truly had a friend, my mother was an alcoholic, my dad was a womanizer, and my first wife gave birth to someone else’s child while we were married. Something changed in me on the day I heard her sing and I’m sure they noticed me in the pews when I got up and left. I never was a sentimental man, but “The Goddess of Life” saved me that day. She stood up there with her natural hair and no makeup, singing her little heart out. There was something about her spirit, all I needed to hear was her voice. Waking up in a hotel the next morning, I dusted myself off, picked up some good habits and aimed for my goal to make Black History. She gave me life, nothing more. 

The Goddess of Life

The Chains of History

This is a noble piece in honor of Black History Month;  written in the context of a dignitary. 

I built my time machine in a book. Fumbling through each page in black and white, I found myself eager to get to the colored pages with vibrant pictures of freedom. You see my friends, history can be very dark at times, a feeble mind can easily get distracted, especially when it’s told from one angle. Flawed narration can leave out some startling details. In times of trials, it may be wise to rely on the chains of history to help us understand how to connect the dots of present day chaos. In this chaos, the villain in the story may not play by the rules. He or she may cheat and steal. Playing the “Good Samaritan” role very well, cunning to be exact. To the reader, innocent characters may seem dumb and weak minded while searching for a way out. This may be why many choose the classroom with one chair off in the corner away from everyone else or why some choose to be self-taught. The entire process while working your way up to the climax can seem impossible to map out, so here are two segments of thought:

1. Races of people displaced from their native lands, many forced to live by the will of others while never actually feeling at home.

2. Entire cultures forgotten and tagged with heathen labels only to be dugout later in search for the truth. 

Friends, in present day it may be wise to take a breath. It may be wise to turn to the family photo album and try to focus on those who put out the flames; those whose passion is to save and keep others from harm. It may be wise to meditate and listen to the voice of reason— the voice guiding you to a peaceful solution. In the end, there’s no hiding from the past, it cannot be undone; we can only try and make the future better. As hard as it may be, try to weave your way through the confusion that this Black History Month may bring and slowly analyze the brutal stories from the past to understand present day circumstances. The stories of perseverance, strength and heroism may seem impossible to navigate while trying to calculate the probability of survival. Amazing stories, and on the final page when you notice former slave ships filled with children of all races carrying chains ⛓ as their homework assignments, it may be helpful to sleep on the bare floor for a few days. I’m sure it will make you appreciate the cotton sheets and warm cozy bed. Each serves as a symbol of historical value.

In present day, and present time, righting the wrongs of the past may seem impossible when it appears as if no one cares, but the future is a one-way street that we’re all on and there’s no turning back. Only the chains of history can keep us from making the same mistakes.

Each page is written in black and white until we get to the future. Let’s hope that one day we can all get on the same page and break away from the chains of history.

The Interview on the Moon 🌚 🌝

 Brian Winfrey: Welcome to the show today, I am live here on the moon with Michael Jefferson, he will be our showcase guest for Black History Month. How are you Michael?

Michael Jefferson: I’m good Brian, glad to be up here with you with just the stars as our audience.

Brian Winfrey: Yes, I had to get you up here to show the world your new dance. Just so everyone one knows you will be the first black dancer to ever dance on the actual surface of the moon and the first dancer period to be up here. Tell us what you call your dance?

Michael Jefferson: I call it the moon run.

Brian Winfrey: Well let’s see it. The entire world is watching.

Michael gets up then as soon as he hears the music he’s popping and gliding all around the surface of the moon. His shoes then began to glow as he does the moon run and floats off of the surface of the moon. The whole world goes crazy.

Brian Winfrey: Well folks, that’s our show for today. One small dance for man, one huge step for mankind. I’ll see you next week on interviews in the strangest places with me your host: Brian Winfrey...Peace.

The Interview on the Moon 🌚 🌝 

Love is Powerful

 Wesley and his grandson Keith did everything together. When Keith bought a rugged old house, together, he and Wesley put a new roof on it. Keith loved his grandfather, but like everything in life we all expire. Wesley later developed severe lung cancer and Keith stayed by his side the entire time. He took him to chemotherapy, he gave him his meds, and even helped him get dressed.

When Keith took him to his doctor’s appointment it didn’t go well,

“Keith, it’s not looking good. Your grandfather’s cancer has spread to his other lung,” the doctor told Keith.

Keith rushed into his grandfather’s room, “Please granddad, give me a few more years. I need you, please give me just a few more years. There’s so much I need to know about our family.”

Something happened that day because a tear fell down Wesley’s face as he could feel the genuine love from his grandson.

In disbelief the doctor informed Keith that somehow, someway, his grandfather’s cancer was gone.

Wesley pulled through for his Grandson. The power of love was so strong that he gave him 18 more years and when he died his last words were, “I lived so we both could live, now love me enough to let me go home to God, for our time together on earth is up but because of God’s love, we’ll meet again...I promise.” 

Keith was fulfilled while holding the family photo album that his grandfather left him as he watched him take his last breath.

Love is Powerful, and God is so merciful that he gave us memories. Love is only weak when we forget. Never forget.

Love is Powerful.

The End.

Broken Heart 💔

 The feeling was so powerful that it took over my thoughts.

I needed a weapon to mend my broken pieces, something to help me.

This was bad...

When I found my weapon of choice I started shooting at everything and everyone that hurt me.

I don’t know what came over me to give me the motivation to make such a harsh decision, but I did.

A part of me just wanted to leave and not do it, but I just couldn’t go on feeling the force of a broken soul, a broken heart.

I stood there as the gun fell to the ground; I watched my only justification for what I’d just done bleeding and dying while I heard silence, and no more arguing. My hands fell down to my side shaking while both of them laid there on the floor lifeless.

Love pushed me over my limit.

The feeling of going on without it drove me mad.

I’d now become a criminal, a force of reason for anyone who felt eager to hurt someone.

Learn from my story and don’t be what I’ve become...

For I’d become a villain to the world but a hero to the broken hearted.

There was no turning back now, I alone took an illegal U-turn to heal my broken heart. 💔