King Zed & the God of Peace

“How powerful of a man to desire to walk amongst the Gods, but you have no enemies to prove your power. What is your plan, great King?” Damion asked.

“I will teach my enemies everything that I know, then I will make war against them to test the strength of the Gods,” King Zed replied.

Damion began to leave, then he turned to ask King Zed one more question.

“Great King, is there one God that rules the Gods?”

King Zed stood tall.

“If there is, after this last battle, we will see his strength on earth. At the stroke of midnight, once I feel that the armies that I have raised up are ready for the biggest war ever on this planet, we will see. Look to the sky Damion. If you see the veins of lighting in the stormy clouds, then we have awakened the God of Gods. If he strikes our tower, we will stop fighting and make peace.”

After his proclamation, King Zed’s messenger then confirmed that his enemies had been taught every technique of war invented by his entire army. He assured him that they were ready to fight.

Soon after, hot steamy bombs began falling from the sky, mighty armies with equal power were soon thrashing at each other’s throats. Smoke and soot from burning buildings filled the air and men fought until death. The smoke was so thick that a storm with powerful lighting struck the watch tower where King Zed was under attack at. Seeing that he had awakened the God of Gods an earthquake swallowed the entire battlefield with only the tower remaining.

“Great King, the tails of battle have been recorded, and from this day forward we will speak of one God. Did you hear how he calmed the earth with one bolt of lighting? For this God of Gods must also be a God of peace,” Damion explained.

Weakened from battle, King Zed could hear nothing but silence. 

“We shall never make war again. From this day forward, we will serve the God of peace, for his strength is perfect. He has made me a believer,” King Zed said, while also throwing his sword from his watch tower into the huge hole in the ground created by the earthquake.

After the last Great War, the Kingdom of Zed became known as a place of peace. The legend had spread of how the God of Gods swallowed the world’s strongest armies with one bolt of lighting.

In fear, the people of earth never awoke the war Gods again, for they vowed to serve the God of peace.

The End.

Write

A singer needs a writer to write songs…

A rapper needs to write rhymes…

Even a rockstar needs a writer…

Country singers too…

These genres write poems, they constantly create.

Writing is fun… 

Even if no one likes your work, keep writing…

On good days and bad days, write…

Me personally, I don’t know where I would be without something to get my thoughts out.

I’d be lost without my rhymes…

I sleep next to a pen and a pad.

There are so many words to learn, so I even exercise while writing.

If it’s wrong, writing can make it right.

Write.

The Hardest Part about Manhood

 I admit that when I first played football I was afraid to get hit.

The hardest part about manhood is facing your fears…I got knocked out once on the field.

I admit that in my first fight I was afraid to lose.

The hardest part about manhood is fighting…I got knocked out by a kid twice my size because he snuck me when I was tying my shoe.

I admit that as a child I had to watch and listen to my mother get abused.

The hardest part about manhood is courage… I tried to help but it was too late.

I admit that my first marriage was a mess.

The hardest part about manhood is trying to maintain with a broken heart…I picked up my broken pieces and moved on.

I admit that in every trial, I got knocked down, I got cut from the team, I got laughed at, I got bullied, and I often got left with a black eye or bloody lip.

The hardest part about manhood is neglect…I found God, he gave me strength.

Kicked out, fighting to graduate, I did it.

The hardest part about manhood is getting an education… I’m still learning.

I decided to put on a uniform and join the armed forces, I felt like I didn’t have much of a choice.

The hardest part about manhood is commitment… In the heat of a war I learned that death is an enemy that we all have to face.

Reaching the climax; manhood is a constant state of paranoia. Preparation is key and bad habits can get you killed. What’s left of any man from a bloody war is the ability to appreciate survival. It’s hard at times, because nothing is cheap. Sometimes it’s hard to kneel and ask for help when you keep getting knocked down. Suffering makes you bitter when you yearn for control of your life or when you fail to provide.

Reaching the resolution; I’m alone in a room and I have to accept the choices that I’ve made. I have to accept the hand that I’ve been dealt. In times of hardship, I have to stay encouraged. When everything is falling apart, I have to remain optimistic. If I survive in the midst of the battle and the next day I see the sun, I have to carry on.

The Hardest Part about Manhood is war…whatever is left over from it really gives you an understanding of peace.

Every man’s fight is different, you win some, and you lose some. If you desire to rule the world, you’ll find a round sphere that’s too heavy to hold in the end. You’re just a man. 

Let’s make Music

In a different state of thought…

Seeing everything crumble around me, I needed something to release what was on my mind.

I then decided to grab the first thing I could find to make some sounds, make some noise.

I took a bucket, some strings from my fishing pole and began to make it all come together.

I pushed all the B.S. aside, I blocked everything out and sang a song that was on my heart.

I sang this damn song til I was dirt tired.

This helped me, it gave me life…

Once I was all done I felt rejuvenated and went to sleep.

The sun came out the next day, and I got a check in the mail for back pay.

I sung about that too.

Let’s make music.

The Gears of the Universe

Frighteningly, some people always believe that things are coming to an end. 

Frighteningly, we always want to be right and force our will upon other people.

These are common traits that we possess as human beings.

I’d come across an older woman who seemed very grounded in her religious beliefs…

It was clear that she’d had her mind made up about what I believed, yet, had no clue who I was as a person and never even took the time to ask. She told me that I was going to hell if I did not accept her God as my God.

From a distance, I’d come to the conclusion that our conversation would lead us no where. My mind was made up and her’s was too. We both were convinced because we were two very different people from two very different walks of life. My point to the woman was clear, and that was that it just seems foolish to send everyone to hell.

The idea seems very flawed.

I, myself, coming from the church, actually never felt like I was allowed to do any of my own thinking. 

My first thought was why is this woman talking to me as if I had no means to think or comprehend for myself.

This seemed very odd to me, but I did let her talk. 

Growing older and getting to know people, I’ve become a bit more mature in my walk with God.

I also have my own testimonies, but often times I don’t have too many friends or family to share them with.

So was I being stereotyped?

I mean, I do consider myself an academic, always striving to learn more. 

I don’t know why, and I have no clue what motivated this woman to belittle me when neglected to give my own thoughts and opinions on the subject at hand, a subject that I did have some knowledge about. Serving God my entire life I really felt offended.

Also being well studied, I’d come to accept the fact that the world is full of ideas, full of people, full of beliefs, with some yet to be discovered.

Am I going to hell for listening?

Being a practicing writer, I’ve learned a few things about history and the mysteries of religious relics;

Stone temples and statues that til this day mystify the human imagination.

Ironically, after my encounter with the woman, I noticed an article in the paper about a pastor set to retire. This pastor was once my preacher, he did my wedding vows. I was pleased to see this but felt insulted by how I’ve been stereotyped by other people from the same faith as me, about a faith that I too have contributed to my entire life. Sometimes being an American can be confusing, even while married I heard my own ex wife test my faith. 

Religion is something we all hold dear to our hearts, but I’ve learned that everyone’s methods are not the same, and if God is invisible, why do we often give him a face?

What if planet Earth is just another gear turning the universe?

What if some of us are just placed here to keep the gears turning?

Why do we so often desire to be the foot on top of others?

How do we know who’s going to hell or heaven? How do we know which story teller is right?

Some styles of thinking just don’t seem fair, so to keep the gears turning, I say write, paint, and spread the good news about how you feel about some of the greatest stories ever told, because some people never get to tell their stories.

In closing, if there is a doorway to heaven, the writer who invented it also invented hell, so where is he or she? He or she must have access to both places. I guess our minds just have to grow enough in knowledge to be able to obtain the keys of understanding how the gears of the universe turn. I guess I’ll stay in the middle and be the keystone that holds both sides together. In so doing, I’ve had to take a lot of punishment from both the left and the right, but by God’s grace, I’ve done my best to keep the gears turning.

The Gears of the Universe 

The Perfect Day

I just looked at my YouTube page, I don’t know what happened over night but I got some views and subscribers.

I just opened up my business doors, I don’t know where all these customers came from, but they’re spending money.

I just looked at my social media account and I’ve somehow went from zero to hero.

Somehow someway all my bills got paid. I have a 0 balance on everything, even my college loans, and some random girl just kissed me. 

The war is over.

What a perfect day, I even voted for myself to be President. How free is that?

The 3rd World

I’d heard people mention God a thousand times. Hungry, on a dirty island, I gasped for air. My family and I drifted on the first vessel to Mexico. Death flashed before my eyes over and over again. I had to get to the States. I would do anything. My heaven was freedom from hunger, freedom from dictatorship. Standing on a ledge looking down, while crossing an abandoned bridge, it was like death was speaking to me. I’d become desperate. Hearing my family call for me to provide everyday had driven me mad. We were all dirty, poor and hungry. Rushing to get through the border fence I felt the sun burning on the barbed metal wires. We got stuck only to die trying to get in illegally. No one knew us, and no one ever heard our story. They were already citizens of the promised land. We didn’t make it out of the 3rd world.

Lil Kimberly’s Russian Adventures

Lil Kimberly was her name, and rhyming was her game.

Her friends called her “Lil Kim” because she was so small, but could hold a long rap rhyme.

“Hey Lil Kim, what’s the rhyme for today?” her buddy Biggs asked after revving up the crowd.

Lil Kim had rocked microphones all across the globe. She approached the stage to answer Biggs’s question.

“I’m going to spit the hardest rhyme to end the Russian war.”

When the crowd heard this they went crazy. Her best friend Ms. M.I.A. then approached the microphone.

“Well streets, we headed to Russia.”

Lil Kim had an army of street rappers, break dancers, emcees, graffiti artist, freestylers, DJs, hype men, and even video girls. She had enough people to fill a whole country. They spanned from Ukraine all the way to the heart of Russia. Her graffiti army soon had their art work on every foreign block. They had flooded the airwaves with enough ebonics that it was like a new form of hieroglyphics.

“Yo Kim, you better spit the hardest rhymes you got to bring these folks back to life. Bring the lioness out of your little body if you have too, because after today you will no longer be considered a sex symbol but a Goddess to these people. We spent every dime we had to get over here to end this war,” Lil Jay said before they took to the stage.

As soon as the beat came on the crowd went crazy, soldiers from afar heard the beat and they dropped their weapons and started break dancing in the streets. Burning buildings soon turned into graffiti artist murals. Lil Kim had spit some of the hardest verses.

“I hope my words bring calm to the flames- this war is to blame for the hunger makin’ me go insane. When I left the states I didn’t know what to write for God’s sake I’ve seen war all my life. They tell me to be a lady well I’m gon flow real lady like. I can’t help but to fight with a pure hip hop beat and a mic. You want real war let me take you to the streets where because of yo war we can barely eat. If you learn one lesson from me-let it be a new beginning to rebuild with peace.” Lil Kim just kept flowing, it was as though something was in her to bring her fans, street thugs, and hoodlums all the way to the slums of Russia to fight for peace in an effort to end the war. The Russian people had never witnessed anything like this before. This was legendary. 

Once Lil Kim’s adventure was over. The Russian President stepped down and went into exile and a peace treaty was signed. Lil Kim had saved the day. The oldest form of hip hop had been reborn and the vibes spread from one country to the next. Lil Kim had heart, she had the drive to fight with the only weapon she had, and that weapon was music. While everyone fought with war, she stationed her troops on the streets and fought with old school hip hop. Victory comes in all forms, sometimes. Somehow, her words ended the war of all wars. 

The End.

1 Million Poems

Why did God bless me with a mind?

When I’m happy, I think…

When I’m sad, I think…

When I do wrong, I think…

When I do right, I think…

When there is war, I think…

When there is peace, I think…

Is my life just a thought in a bigger jar?

Am I just one of a billion sperm fighting for a chance at life?

I guess I’m here for a reason…

Will my death lead me to dark space or will I ballon into a star full of fire filled light?

Here I sit after another passionate fantasy fulfilled only to be left alone with a chance for another day.

So I write…

I’ll take my time and imagine 1 million poems.

Who knows, maybe my words will be the blueprint for another advanced civilization.

Silence

They had just hit a target.

They’d also started drafting soldiers to help win the war.

Once I got word, I took a walk and recalled my old military days.

It seemed so quiet, I saw retirees walking in the park.

I noticed that more animals had come out to play.

I couldn’t help but wonder how things had changed so fast. 

It was so quiet, almost like the war was already over.

I began to pickup knew hobbies and even volunteered at the USO. 

I gave blood to the Red Cross and got to work with peace keepers and humanitarian aid workers.

War somehow brought out the best in me because I had always had a passion to make other people’s lives better.

I even started to go to church again and started becoming active in new ministries. 

After the war was over, it seemed so silent.

It was almost like God’s spirit had come down to quiet the storm. 

People began to waive and tell each other have a nice day.

It almost seemed like I’d gone through a time machine.

Somehow life had more meaning now.

It was silent and silence is Golden.

It’s a simple solution to a headache that just won’t go away.

Silence.

The R.A.W. Arena

The gym was my home.

Walking with the G.O.D.S. they gave it to me as a gift.

On my first birthday I could hear my mother fighting for her life.

Hearing her screaming, the G.O.D.S. taught me how to pray.

The art class is where I learned about colors, this was my escape, the G.O.D.S. gave me this as a way out. I began to read and write.

As I studied, I learned about one God who died a bloody death, it was R.A.W., the G.O.D.S. gave me a second chance. 

On my journey through the underworld, I saw suffering and pain, it was R.A.W. The G.O.D.S. taught me how to fight.

Stay with me on this journey, I’m used to being left alone; therefore, I am. The G.O.D.S told me that no one can fight my battles for me.

My mind, body, and spirit were groomed for battle. I’d become an A.N.G.E.L. of war, a victim of combat. I’d been bred to fight for my people. Taught to be a champion.

The G.O.D.S. then lead me into the arena.

I’d become a soldier of R.A.W. war and combat so I had no choice but to fight.

A sight of inspiration, a topic of discussion, a symbol of strength.

Here I stood after every battle, after every wound, patched up to heal for the next fight.

No wife, no true friends, I was born as a heathen and my ancestors were slaves.

Once labeled an adult my eyes were opened.

The rage in my heart was like a lion in the jungle. I had to heal fast or my opponents would eat me alive. One day the crowd loved me, the next they were calling for my head.

All of my life I’d been treated like an animal, I knew no mercy. Clothed in all black, I fought everyday to the death of me.

It was R.A.W.

Clashing with enemies of war, I saw blood and yearned for P.E.A.C.E. 

I’d become numb, traumatized by every blow until my number was up.

Why did the G.O.D.S. put me here?

I had no way out so I didn’t question.

Having flashbacks of a life filled with pain, no one showed me what true love was.

Some nights in a R.A.W. battle they threw roses, some nights they spit and called me names.

It was like I didn’t exist unless I was in the arena.

The arena was my home.

People paid to see me in R.A.W. battle.

The more I fought, the more the crowd would cheer.

If I showed any sign of weakness, I was shown no love.

Sitting in the metal locker rooms welded from old prison steel, I rested, only to fight again the next day. 

In darkness, I began to relate to this one God that suffered like me in the arena, he led me to the light.

He was crucified.

I fought, and bled for every scrap until he called me home.

He became my idle, he became my strength, I could relate to his story.

My flesh was like that of a soldier fighting for his people. 

Every R.A.W. battle gave them strength.

In death, like my God, I became a G.O.D.

Great-Optimistic & Dynamic.

The thought of me kept things in motion.

In the R.A.W. battle I became:

Raged-Against-War.

The arena was my battlefield, I fought until death. 

I fought for P.E.A.C.E. just like my God.

My story lived on.

F.R.E.E.D.O.M.

Layup Stanley

 “So what do you have planned today Stan?” Little Chris asked.

“I’m going to do a layup at every gym and put it on the tube,” Layup Stanley replied.

Little Chris stood tall on his bike while watching Layup Stanley dribbling his ball.

“Hey Stan, I got one question.”

Layup Stanley stopped his dribble.

“What?”

“How you gone get in the gyms with no membership?”

Layup Stanley picked up his basketball from underneath his foot.

“I got my ways of getting in, don’t you worry about that,” he said.

Layup Stanley’s plan was genius, he would go to the gym’s manager and make a deal with them by telling them about how he would post videos on his popular page of him doing a layup in their gym to draw a crowd and increase gym memberships. The movement caught on and pretty soon Layup Stanley developed a following at every gym in just about every town. The little 5 foot 7 kid became famous in less than three months and had done a layup in well over five hundred gyms. When signing his shoe deal, his favorite slogan was: “Bounce the ball off of the small square, then swoosh, it’s in baby.” 

Layup Stanley

Heroes

Some people just can’t stand the sight of war, conflict or casualties. 

The power to want to save someone’s life is a gift.

Most kids marvel over the concept of a super hero in literature. The concept is amazing.

Some people have to be told not to help others because that’s what makes them feel alive. They become addicted to it.

Even religious people have heroes in their stories. Angels and prophets with amazing powers, the concept seems endless.

As a writer observes the idea, he or she must step back and relate to human nature. The unique ability of a crime fighter or a person with unusual gifts.

In these tough times, in talks of wars and torment with lights falling from the sky I promise you that we all will witness the might and miracles that heroes create. 

There was, is, and will always be someone who flies in to save the day because once a hero teaches people how to save lives, other heroes then emerge from the fire.

Heroes. 

May God’s heroes be with the victims of war.

May someone possess the amazing power to save. Where there are heroes, there are tragedies, but there is also hope.

Heroes.

Deceptocrats

They look like real people.

They always want more government in your life.

They give out cotton candy and smile while shaking your hand.

They’re filled with government programs and promises to save us all.

They promise a world of equality and peaceful solutions with everyone as winners and no losers.

They steal your brain and rewire it for their own good.

They make you a slave to their agendas and policies; in the end, you will be owned.

Once there’s nothing left, logic starts to kick in and it’s too late, they own you.

Listen to the small voice in your head and beware of deceptocrats.

The brain is a terrible thing to waste, they will make you seem crazy, read between the lines, they’re not your friends.

If you look closely through the smoke tinted mirrored glass you will see a well organized party of people who are very good at playing the game.

Good Luck, they have a very large army of members from every race, creed and color, and they mobilize faster than a drug dealer’s hand-to-hand.

Deceptocrats 

Welcome to March

Little green men and new birthdays on the horizon.

Lucky gold coins and thoughts filled with gems.

Thumbs up, and tournament madness, a month that introduces spring.

Welcome to March.