Wednesday, December 6, 2023

God taught me how to love Christmas

 I’m writing this piece for myself, and for a young person ignorant of God’s ability to change a person’s life.

In reality I’m a great person, but I do have flaws. Serving a perfect God has taught me why I have flaws.

Everyone’s walk with God is different, I found him while alone in a military hospital. To be honest I didn’t get well until I came to acknowledge that I needed God’s help. I was a lonely reck searching for love.

That makes me great because God taught me how to love, because he kept his promise. This Christmas, like every other day in my life, I yearn for a closer walk with the supernatural, the greatness of God’s mercy. Even if Christmas isn’t important to some people God taught me how to love it. A time with his creation, a time to share in his thoughts and ways, but most of all a time of joy. The goodness of God has shown me how to be good and come to him for hope.

I found God’s goodness alone in a room, in a world filled with every form of pleasure that you can imagine. Yet, friends, take my advice seriously. Even if you’ve never met me or may have and just don’t like me, I have to say that we’re nothing without God. Why does every civilization find God? Why has every king held on to a belief in something that no one can see? Whom do we turn to when we have nothing left? Where does our knowledge come from? Who gives us the spirit to win wars that seem impossible? Friends, listen to my point, listen to my cry this holiday season. Even when people feel they have you figured out, even when your empire is falling pay attention to what I’m saying. I am a lost and lonely man searching and navigating my way through God’s infinite master plan this Christmas. I’ve read so many books and I’m still climbing the tree of knowledge, but even at the peak level of skill and academic mastering, even when on the edge of my mortal impurities, I’ve come to realize that I’m nothing without God. He, and my Godfather Nathaniel taught me how to love Christmas. It’s a great holiday even for gangsters.

Tuesday, December 5, 2023

A Book for Christmas

 Yearning to get my thoughts out, I chopped up my Christmas tree and made thin slices of paper out of it. I even made some ink from the ashes. I didn’t watch any sports, I didn’t even spend any money, I recycled my tree into a book. I called it the tree of knowledge.

Sunday, December 3, 2023

The Winter Breeze

The giant snowman passed me by. 

He carried with him the wind which helped me fly.

I flew like a leaf and zipped up my coat.

The winter breeze was no joke.

It froze everything, even the water. 

I slept by the heater with my seven daughters.

“Dad, why is it so cold?” They all asked and agreed.

I said, “because the seasons change like the air we breathe.”

We snuggled up in our feathered blankets and fell to sleep.

We could hear the winter breeze outside as we covered our feet.

When we awoke, it was still there, it lasted all season we just had to make sure that we were prepared.

So follow my advice and don’t be caught off guard, the winter breeze can even chill your car.

Beware of the Winter Breeze it’s a cool slow freeze.

Tuesday, November 28, 2023

The Christmas Rebellion

There he sat, in his big fancy office, dictating to his entire staff on what was to come next. Pinching his small whiskers of a mustache he could feel the power of dictatorship. He even made his employees tattoo his brand name on their necks, they belonged to him. He was a savage boss, stripping his secretaries down to their undergarments just to make sure he and his empire were safe. Every estate that he owned he had his name in bold gold letters on the front of his buildings and his wife basked and bathed in his wealth. Donald Fury, was his name, and he’d just ran a background check on Craig Riddick. Craig was no ordinary employee because he hated being told what to do, but his passion for people earned him union leadership. After ten years on the job, Jada was spotted leaving the supervisor’s office crying about her paycheck. Craig watched in frustration. Donald Fury eliminated the Christmas bonus and had just bought he and his wife another million dollar estate. This fueled the fire. In all of America’s fragile foundation, when it came to money, people got funny. At night, the workers plotted.

“Prices are going up. Everything cost more, how am I going to get Max a new bike,” Deana said, holding up pictures of Donald Fury on golfing trips as they slaved on his assembly lines.

“We have to stop this man.”

“I hear he plans to replace us all with robots,” Victor explained.

This got Sasha’s attention, “He used Brian to get through last year’s holiday season and then fired him for getting off of the overtime list. He’s a mad man.”

Congregating and conjuring up the rebel spirits a brick painted with Christmas colors flew through Donald’s window.

“You can’t survive without us!” Bob screamed as his wife Janet did donuts on Donald’s front lawn as they sped off. Witnessing the madness, Donald quickly got on the phone with Joe, his Vice President. 

“They’re plotting a rebellion because I’m shutting down Christmas, prepare for code 666,” Donald explained.

Protest soon emerged on one of the most highly invested businesses in the world. The front headlines called it the “Christmas Rebellion,” as workers pinned themselves on crosses just to get a living wage. Watching from his high office windows, Donald Fury and Joe unleashed the army of machine laborers. Donald took to the microphone.

“I want to introduce you all to your replacements, you’re all fired!”

They all watched as police escorted them off of his property as he had his yes men set fire to a statue of Santa Claus.

“What are we going to do now?” Jada asked.

“We have to analyze how this happened and reverse it,” Craig explained to the entire crew of workers. 

“This is war.”

Realizing how clever Donald was they couldn’t help but notice how he’d literally prepared for this moment. He made sure that his power would last by boxing his workers into having little to no power. He made sure that no one had enough force to challenge him. 

“We all fell right into his trap. We bought expensive houses like him. We bought expensive cars like him. We even put all of our children in expensive schools. He played us like a fiddle,” Craig explained. 

Grouping together on Christmas, they all took what they had left and helped each other. They’d been humiliated on national news and the strike dragged on for an entire year. Now poor with little retirement left they sat and watched as Donald and Joe took over the world.

“We have to stop this,” Craig said as the now endangered staff’s strike carried on to another holiday season.

“We have to attack on Christmas Day.”

Recruiting an army, Craig and his former coworkers rioted, they set fire to everything and watched it all burn on Christmas Day. Standing on his truck, Craig watched his frontline attackers being arrested. 

“Send in the second brigade,” he screamed.

This group had artillery fire that they’d stashed in their basements. 


Things got ugly real quick and Craig found himself leading a rebellion to take down the most feared regime to ever live.

“I have a good shot,” Steven said with his red beam on the office where Donald and Joe had been spotted.

Hearing the sound of his launcher go off, everyone stood and watched a red sparkling streak fly above their heads with a fiery explosion soon after.

“I hit the target,” Steven’s voice echoed over Craig’s radio transmitter.

Everyone cheered as Craig took to the megaphone.

“Today we fought for Christmas freedom, and friends, today we won. Fellow coworkers, we had no choice but to fight, and now, in our victory, we celebrate the holiday known as Christmas, a holiday designed for us and our children in remembrance of a God that died so that we may live and be forgiven. On this day we’re not only coworkers, but we’re coworkers who united to fight for our right to enjoy the holiday season together.”

The End

Sunday, November 26, 2023

For Mom

First it was her brother Johnny, his death was a rude awakening of the power of a lady. You see, mom raised me in a dark world. Johnny was the brother that picked her up and kept her encouraged when she’d been mentally and physically abused by men and women foes, he died around Christmas, but mom kept speaking life into the atmosphere.

Then there was John, her father. We all watched as Chemotherapy slowly ate him alive. He suffered, even as he took his last breath, mom dusted herself off and kept going, even as he passed before Christmas.

We then watched as other relatives slowly fell off the family wagon reminding us to cherish every moment in this life, for we all will have our day with the death Angel. I personally don’t believe in death because even in darkness there’s an empty feeling eager to get back to living life.

Now it’s Grandma Edith, her Mother, my grandmother. Mom has been stuck in the neutral corner for this one, fighting with one glove tied behind her back listening to gospel songs to stay up. It’s evident that this one hit her hard, but somehow, everyday she gets up for work. Her favorite line is, “Grandpa always says, ‘Never give up.’”

My Mom, has never given me a reason not to believe in something greater than this life. Somehow, someway, I don’t know how but her clock keeps ticking. Fight, after fight I’ve watched her get knocked down and get back up. I’ve learned something from her just by watching. At times when I tried to jump in and help, she covered my eyes and pushed me to the other neutral corner. Mom has been a friend, a sister, a brother, and a father so today I give her an early Christmas gift. I give her my words. I know that she may never get to this piece and if she does it’s by fate. When Father Time and the good Lord calls her home I’ll be sad but I will learn to go on without Mom. Even on her bad days, she’s Mom. On a good day, she’s mom. Life is like an ocean pushing a small ship in the dark night at sea with a small sailor eager to make it back home to solute Mom. This Christmas gift didn’t cost a dime I paid for it with a thought.

For Mom.

Friday, November 24, 2023

The Weight of the World

 First there was the final exam, then the SAT, then the ACT, then more entrance exams. Sitting in a silent room, I realized that I had nothing left in the bank. The entire generation before me literally robbed me of a financially secured future. I had to work for everything so I could pay the bills. As I sat and watched people going on with their lives living like there was no tomorrow, I laid dormant in a room with only a bag of noodles to eat. I was a soccer standout who could barely meet the grades. I came from a poor middle class family and at the age of twelve I was pinned down while being forced to watch my brother being beaten to death right in front of me. Sitting in my dorm room fighting to get the motivation to study, I noticed people going home for the holidays while I had nothing to go home to. Sore from my last practice, I’d reached a tipping point and the more I studied, the more I realized that it felt like the weight of the world had slowly pushed me off into a universe filled with crazy wonders and ideas. Most people lived a simple life, but here I stood on Christmas Day for an experimental collegiate Africa Vs. America exhibition fundraiser with thousands of people watching me and millions of fans wearing my jersey. We all wore Christmas colors and I had to make the final penalty kick to win the game. Standing there, I don’t know why, but I sat and wondered if there was something divine helping me get through this life or if it were just pure skill because my life and career depended on this goal. Here I stood, an African American with the most important shot of the first soccer game televised in America and parts of Africa on Christmas. This feeling was worse than walking a tightrope with no net. Realizing that I had no home to go to, only a dorm room with noodles, I had no choice but to make this shot, and I did. Feeling the edge of my spike tap the ball just enough to give it a lift above the goalkeeper’s finger tips was enough to finally get me an endorsement. Watching the goalkeeper fall to his knees in the agony of defeat I could feel my team grabbing me to carry me off of the field. I guess that’s how life works, just yesterday I had questions about this life, I had test to pass, and I had hurdles to jump. I’d become numb to the woes of late night test. Reading numerous books and now the whole world watched me create a Christmas miracle for a country that needed a soccer hero for the sport. After I hit the mainstream, the pressure on me would have drove the average person mad. Why would anyone train as hard as me? Why would anyone do this to themselves just to graduate or win a game? Standing at the edge of space holding the entire weight of the world in my right hand on Christmas Day with a soccer ball in my other hand and a bunch of wild soccer fans cheering, literally turned me into a living legend. I guess something does guide us through this life, I guess something does answer our prayers. After shaking the goalkeeper’s hand as a sign of good sportsmanship, I began to understand why some people have to work so hard, why some people literally have to sacrifice everything so that others will feel some form of hope. Some form of motivation. As my story spread, I gave billions of people around the world something to believe in and it all happened on Christmas Day, but that wasn’t the end of my journey, it was just the beginning of a long career. What turned me into a madman was the fact that I had to keep doing it over and over again. My fans started calling me Santa because every game I gave them the gift of soccer.

The End

Thursday, November 23, 2023

Black Friday

Mirror, mirror, on the wall what shall I buy for them all.

The serious people that kill and steal and use their education to make crack and pills.

There I stood in front of her father, a serious man trading shipments for dollars.

Growing old and grey I’ve learned to loosen up so sometimes I grab a mic and spit in a cup.

In my times of sadness and trials, I heard a politician telling me to sit down.

So I frowned, and kindly read a book only to discover that my thoughts were took.

Stolen I say, like a thief in the night, so while watching a child dance I saw the light.

I smiled at her father and reached in my bag of goodies to give her a gift.

In deep thought I watched her mood shift.

Her father wanted her to be a doctor or nurse.

I told her no, sing for the people and rehearse.

You’re an angel, don’t lose your light, you were sent from God to sing us through the fight.

I got her a gift on Black Friday with glee, I spent hard earned cash at the store for it wasn’t free. It was a brand new microphone laced with diamonds and pearls.

She sang her heart out and began to fly while her daddy had to accept what she had become.

She was born to entertain, and teach the world to loosen up and have fun.

Santa is real I say, so be merry and good. 

He’s not just a character, he’s all of us, I say, so on Black Friday turn into him with glee, and don’t forget to leave a gift for me under the tree.

For it’s that time of year so let go of your troubles, spread the gift of joy and do it in doubles.

Black Friday

Monday, November 20, 2023

Thankful Work

Overtime has crippled my old frail body.

I can literally feel my back crackling every time I lift a patient. 

Eight hours a day and six days a week I clock-in. This workroom floor is all I know. 

I can even remember the first day I started. I remember I caught a flat in the parking lot and one of my coworkers helped me get home.

I can tell our administrative team is having financial problems this year because they didn’t pass out gift cards for the holidays.

Every year I see the same look on my kids’ faces praying that their father brings home some holiday blessings.

I’ve sacrificed everything for my children, they hug me when I’m off to work in the morning. They’re always eager to show me their good grades. Every ounce of work that I give to this job is for them. I love my family; therefore, I work for them, and not for my boss or even myself. I work to keep them happy, I work to keep them fed, and I work to keep clothes on their backs.

Thankful work.

Tuesday, November 14, 2023

Writer’s Block

I could feel the sweat dripping off of my forehead. The truth was that I had to think of something quick. My book deadline was approaching and my readers yearned for more. Speaking to my therapist, I did everything to blockout my evil thoughts and lustful desires. I was turning into a reck. I sat in my back room for hours searching for something. Thinking about every fabric entwined in my fickle imagination. I just sat there in front of the typewriter. Running my fingers through my now beard, I hadn’t shaved or showered in days. There was paper everywhere. Searching for page twenty-one of the murder scene, I began to read.

Her passion led her down an empty path. Lonely and superstitious, she sat in solitude. Abstinence had become her preferred method for pleasure but her obsessed neighbor couldn’t help his lust for her so he often watched her through his window. 

Ag, no, the readers want clean thoughts, something magical. Something to live for that will purify the imagination. I scrambled and stumbled across page thirty-five.

Slowly easing through her backdoor she watched as Tabitha begged for mercy while crawling slowly attempting to flee to safety, but Roxy wanted her revenge. Tabitha had driven her over the edge. Feeling the funk of hatred eat away at her thoughts she put the knife to Tabitha’s throat.

“You slept with my husband, my brother, and my father. Now I must purify your blood,” Roxy said while whispering in Tabitha’s ear as she lunged her kitchen knife through her back.

Wait, let me gather my thoughts, I have to focus on something that will give people some form of pure vibes. Something that will give them strength. Battling with my thoughts I fell to the floor. 

“Oh my God, I think I’m having a stroke,” I whispered to myself.

Shaking in the middle of the floor, drowning in paper, I notice an owl in the tree outside of my window.

“You’re a mess,” the owl says.

I’m like, “Oh my God, I’m losing my mind.”

“Get up off of the f*** floor you bum. Cuz that’s what you’re going to be if you don’t bow down to your s***y publisher,” the owl said as he just wouldn’t stop trashing me. 

Determined, I began to write about my dreams. I created a character that couldn’t use his arms or legs. To be honest, I don’t know where these thoughts were coming from but the more I wrote the better I felt, and while looking out of the window there was that gray and brown owl again. 

“You owe me for saving your sorry a**,” he said.

Ignoring him, I just kept writing. My characters were disabled but they had one strength and that’s the fact that they wouldn’t give up. They never complained, they lived life and didn’t give up on themselves. Realizing my masterpiece, I went to close the window but decided to have a conversation with the owl.

“So what’s your name?” I asked.

“The angry owl, now tell me, who’s your daddy punk b****?” The owl replied.

“Why are you so angry?” I asked.

The owl said nothing. He flew into my apartment and turned into a woman.

“Hi, honey.” 

I couldn’t believe my eyes as she got closer to me.

“It’s me, your wife. Now wake-up, breakfast is on the table,” she said.

Seeing my finished manuscript on the table, it was like I’d entered a whole new world. I had literally written myself back to sanity. I had a wife and a family. I’d met my deadline and my book was a best seller. The disabled owl was the people in my story. The people with disabilities. The people who got up everyday accepting who they were. These were the people who appreciated an author who wrote about their struggles. My writer’s block left me when I wrote for a cause and once I devoted the rest of my life to be the author who wrote for the disabled, for some odd reason I never had writer’s block again. I had a purpose and my audience needed me. 

There I sat, every night with the angry owl sitting outside of my window.

“You’re a nasty old man to think I would turn into your wife,” the owl said.

“Honey, take a break, and come in here and lay with me,” I heard my wife calling from the other room.

“Go in there with your wife and stop looking at me. I’m just an angry old bird. I can’t do anything for you but give you something to think about. Go spend time with your wife,” the owl said.

Soaking in the victorious feeling of finishing up another book I decided to listen to the owl. I took a break from writing and spent time with my family and never had writer’s block again. The more I fed my spirit the more the thoughts kept coming and the owl was just another character in the fabric of my work.

Realizing that I’d now had a new pet friend, I decided to write about him too. I wrote my first children’s book called the Angry Old Owl and for some reason when I wrote it the owl wasn’t so angry anymore. I couldn’t help but notice him in the backroom now on my couch away from his tree branch reading my book with his signature glasses on grinning from ear to ear.

I guess the little furry dude just needed some attention.

The End

Wednesday, November 8, 2023

The Retirement Party

 “Well John, me and my wife would like to congratulate you on 30 years here at Aluminum Steel,” Curtis said as John accepted his sincere invitation.

“So what are you going to do with all of your spare time John?” His cousin Pete asked.

“I don’t know, probably sleep. I don’t have any kids. I’m not married. Probably just sleep.” John replied.

The next day, John woke up and there was nothing to do. He got tired of hanging out at the gym, he didn’t drink, and he wasn’t really in to what the new school folks were in to. He tried to get involved with politics but really didn’t have the stomach for it. He thought about opening up his own business but had little education. Realizing that he’d gained twenty pounds in less than two months, he came to the conclusion that he had to find something to do or he would fade away. In about month eight, John got a call from his old boss.

“Hey, how’s retirement treating you?” Ron asked.

“Well, I have a lot of time on my hands and everything that I do seems like I’m running in circles. After watching several movies and reading several books, I’ve come to the conclusion that the main characters always seems to win.”

Ron laughed,

“Ah, well, let me get to the point, none of the young folks are showing up to work, would you like to come back for double your wages as before?” Ron abruptly asked.

Realizing that his new life had him on the edge, he quickly checked his bank account. It’s amazing how fast a retirement check can wither away. He thought about how many times he’d played in the community theater plays since he’d been retired. He thought about how many stores he’d been at and how he’d become the guy who had a bit too much time for conversation. He thought about how tired he’d gotten of his family who always hounded him for cash. His last thought was his last words with his parents before they died, the conversation led him to realize that everyone that he’d grown up with had moved on to new things and some had passed on to the next life. John found himself in a bubble where nothing mattered anymore. Church wasn’t the same and honestly all he had left was work.

“Count me in Ron. I’ll be in first thing in the morning.” John said.

After he ended the conversation he gracefully went upstairs to ironed his old uniform. He had something to look forward to.

The Retirement Party

Death Votes

 At the last ballot they celebrated their victory yet the righteous still stood their ground, for God was not gone. Friends his work had just begun as a war between good and evil began to unfold. Shekinah Glory and the temple where he dwelled left a certain group of people and they were left to fend for themselves. Exhausted priest and clergyman took up arms. If it was drugs and the power to choose that they wanted, for they voted for that right. As the righteous stood and watched, a death angel was unleashed, for if they voted against life they signed a contract with him. For even in Egypt there were goddesses of life, but friends in today’s world they desire a different decision. They desire a different vibe. Seeing a cloud of smoke and darkness fill the sky the death angel spread his wing at the span of the devil’s. For his wings were so long that they blocked the sun and fire began to fall from the dark sky, for they voted for death, yet the righteous stood and watched while also protecting their children. A war between good and evil had been waged and not many were spared who voted for the death angel’s curse. Dark venom began to spread deadly STDs and beauty sadly turned ugly. In the distance a group dressed in white gowns sang holy, holy, holy and began cursing and writing heathen quotes on street walls to label a section of earth as the pit of hell, and no righteous were allowed to enter for the people drugged, raped, and literally were killing themselves. Religious scholars began spreading mixed gospels of lies while the righteous stood on truth. Even in Egypt there were Goddesses of life. As doctors failed at the Hippocratic oath the power of healing was no more, because as long as the death angel’s wings were spread no one but the righteous had power. For the ones who signed the death wish thought they knew everything, but soon found out that they voted to kill everything around them. For they voted for death, but only in God there is no Death, only life. Some cried tears of sorrow while those who voted for life triumphed and moved on carrying out God’s will. For even in defeat they still won.

Saturday, November 4, 2023

Someone stole my 8 Ball

There I stood, working 8 hours a day in front of an 8 Ball.

A religious scholar would have probably condemned me to hell just by the history of the toy but that’s another discussion that may take too long to comprehend so I’ll keep this piece basic.

Three to five customers a day, all knowing that when you enter a business there are rules.

The first rule is that you do not steal. It’s a business and a business provides.

The scariest part about stealing is that the owner can never actually prove who stole but it usually cost him or her more money every time someone steals.

The mystery behind business is what I like to call the crumbling theory. It’s when so much mystery and hatred lies in some people’s heart that they literally pray and hope for the business to crumble. Some of these people even do business with you just to watch you suffer. 

The crumble theory has everything to do with the mental stain of having an 8 ball at the front counter. I have to admit that a large part of a business owner’s operation is mental. You have to mentally prepare yourself for what comes in once you setup shop in a neighborhood and open the store, because what people convince themselves to believe can be scary. 

You also have to realize that everyone is raised differently and a lot of people convince themselves that everything that they do is right and you don’t know what you don’t know.

So let’s get to the main point. Someone stole my 8 Ball. It’s not in the store, it’s gone. I’ve had this 8 ball hanging around the store for over 16 years. It has been in the hands of so many people trying to master the art of thinking and after 16 years someone cracked the sphere and gave-in to their own ambitions. Just like everything that goes on in my life I’ll most likely replace it with a new one and just like when an atom loses a proton or electron new energy will come in. I have really never been a superstitious person. In my earlier days I admit I joined a few strict Christian institutions so I can reason with why someone would be motivated to steal an 8 Ball. Perception plays a huge part in a business environment and some smiles are actually symbols of deceitful intentions.

For 16 years I watched people marvel at this ball, pick it up, and ask it questions, and today when I realized that it was gone, I kept working and came to the conclusion that either someone stole it because they wanted it; someone stole it because of their beliefs, or someone stole it to face their fears.

Whatever the case, I’ve come to learn as an older man now, that what people train their mind to believe is more dangerous than anything else unknown because even the truth to them is a lie.

The first 8 Ball that I’ve ever owned is in someone else’s hands now and if there is a mystery behind a sequence of events, then I’ll let nature take its course. Someone stole my 8 Ball.

Wednesday, November 1, 2023

Autumn Breeze

 Watching the orange and brown leaves falling randomly into a pile gives me a slight feeling of ease. On a windy autumn day they float on air and land onto the moist ground. Some leaves even freeze to the ground in a puddle on the sidewalk. Feeling the temperature shift, I sit by the window and drink some hot tea to reflect on past experiences. I even take the time to visit the local market where the farmers seem delighted that people are purchasing their fall harvest. In peace, I’m fascinated with the autumn breeze.

Tuesday, October 31, 2023

Autumn Sunshine

 The golden harvest, the rich colorful leaves falling to the ground. Even on a sad day I just had to take a moment to breathe. I had to take a moment to leave it all behind. Even if some people in the world hate me I saw perfection in the autumn sunshine.

Sunday, October 29, 2023

Autumn Run

I wanted a moment to reflect.

My intent was to spend some time outside.

Growing older, I’d learned to admire the natural shifts of the new season.

The golden colors; the vibrant earth tones of falling leaves.

Alone in a room while lifting weights, I decided to go for an autumn run.

It was good.

Tuesday, October 17, 2023

Love is possible

Running in circles, I could feel the insoles in my track spikes heating up from the friction and traction of an intense race. Nearly collapsing at the finishline it was a photo finish.

“You did it Greg,” I heard my best friend Tina say out of my good ear.

Slowly trying to catch my breath, I looked up in the stands and saw no one. This ate away at my psyche. I was slowly turning into a maniac, determined to win and meet the grades, I was literally reading everything and no one around me could keep up. I was just too good at everything, somehow I managed to tame my ego, but my family of drunks and drug addicts weren’t helping me when I had to face reality. I often made friends with the oddest people, they found inspiration in my knowledge and generous attitude. Deep inside I wanted to be this tough perfect guy but that just wasn’t reality. No matter how hard I studied and advanced in ranks the memories haunted me. I just couldn’t let go. It was like I’d been standing on a mountain top alone. I had no stable support system. While everyone was going to church and finding time to waste, there I was in a room studying. I’d literally watched an entire civilization of people tormented by lack of knowledge and resources and the more I tried to help the harder it got for me. Yearning for companionship, I stumbled across my old high school friend Tina’s number in an old phone and, yes, I was now older, but even with all of my accolades I was still unhappy. Roaming the aisle at grocery stores I couldn’t imagine how some of the women could come outside dressed the way they did. I literally couldn’t help but notice a man by the register watching this one particular lady with curves to die for, and there he stood drooling and fantasizing. Back at home the news of the war in the Middle East kept my attention. I’d come to learn that the harder some people tried to fix other folks’ thinking, the worst it seemed to get, and in a system filled with opportunist, laws to the ignorant were like video games being played and everyone trying to win and some people just couldn’t keep up. Time is good though, time smoothens things out. One thought led to another and a terrible conversation with my drunk mother motivated me to call Tina. Hearing her answer after the fourth ring caused me to shiver. 

“Hello,” she said, awaiting a response.

“Ahh, hello, is this Tina…Tina Smith?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“Oh, hey, this is Greg. We were best friends in high school.” 

“Oh my God! Hi Greg. I haven’t spoken to you in years. How are you?” 

“I’m good,” I responded, feeling my heart pouring out as much as I could, desiring the small phone reunion.

Man, we had to talk for hours. From the recent news to just everything ordinary. Then it hit me again. My ego, I was not ordinary anymore, but I knew I needed this woman. Tina’s life remained stationary while I excelled, but she kept her phone by her every time I called and needed a friend. Tina had become my outlet, even with all of her three children and baby daddy drama stories, she found hope in me, out of all of her mistakes. Realizing that I needed a break, I took a vacation and took a trip home after years on the overtime list of my highly paid technical job. While home, I figured I would surprise Tina so I knocked on her door in an unexpected visit. I broke a cardinal rule but Tina was always Tina. She answered and was still full of genuine love. This was what I wanted, it was what I needed. Seeing her two girls and son made me leave every doubt behind, Tina had something that I never had. She had a family, I mean, yes, the fathers were not around but I had to be with this woman. She had just a high school degree but she carried herself like a lady. Curly hair, brown eyes, and the aura of a goddess. Sitting on her couch we talked for hours and that’s really all I needed. We didn’t even touch each other but we just kept talking about everything, and at the end of the night on my way out she hugged me and looked me in the eyes.

“I love you Greg, I’ve always loved you, but I know you need more. You need a woman on your level, Greg, the world needs you and I would just hold you back. Would you leave it all behind just to coach me and my children just to be able to keep up with your life?” 

Hearing her say that crushed me like a grape falling from a fruit stand on a busy street.

I’d snapped, I couldn’t accept the story of my life. Honestly, I was never good enough, and even when I was too good, I wasn’t good enough to be on the ground level. Apparently Tina didn’t feel we were equally yoked but the attraction was there, I felt it. Falling off of my love high I found myself back home alone and I just couldn’t stop thinking about Tina. It was like there were voices on the other side giving me a vision of something that could possibly work or could it just be me? I mean, yes, there were plenty of fish in the sea and that’s when it happened. She came all the way to me. She surprised me and knocked at my door with her kids and all of her bags. What a surprise.

Speechless, I found myself in a love story destined for a happy ending. I guess love comes in many different forms. I guess the offer I made to her to come live with me sold. From my time as a track star, to my lonely nights advancing in the corporate world, I became a husband and a father in less than three years. The outcast nerdy kid found his soulmate in a high school prom queen whose heart was broken over and over again but left everything to not only better herself but better me. 

When I snapped, Tina snapped me back into shape, she snapped me back down to earth. Together, we somehow snapped into love. It was just me, her, and the kids now and my life was complete. I guess even when you’re at the top of your game, in the end we’re all just ordinary people yearning to fall in love. Miraculously, Tina and I lasted. We made it til death do us part. I wrote this note for our kids. I kindly told them that even love has its ups and downs, but true love last a lifetime. Because of their parents, all of our children believed in love. They were not afraid of it. Tina and I made that possible.

Saturday, October 14, 2023

Children of Abraham

In the night we slept.

It was quiet.

We were all taken up to the top of the mountain.

Floating on pure vibes we assembled as one.

We were united like birds in the sky.

Seeing the flow of negative energy headed our way we held hands and walked together in our cleansed tunics.

Our force, our bond, and our strength could not be broken.

The inheritance that we were to partake of was far better than the offer made on earth.

Everyday we elevated into a more superior being and as the elements gravitated around us the promise was kept, our reach was infinite, beyond measure.

We could do anything.

Flawless, we began to allow a divine presence to take control. It was our power.

In that sense, we were perfect beings used for a greater purpose, for the world needed our strength to survive.

Our aura was like that of cleansing water and our knowledge created unmoved intellect.

Observing the cunning creatures roaming in the darkness of night, we introduced to them a better way. 

A new beginning.

As they grasped our hands in hopes of a better tomorrow, the instruments of a more purified sound gave them the understanding of our language.

They too began to comprehend.

Looking back at a cruel dark past they began to see the light at the end of the tunnel and they too saw miracles.

They too felt victory that they so yearned for and a life that so many others told them didn’t exist.

In the end, we all sat in a garden embracing our family reunion, for we were all children of Abraham waiting for our father to embrace us and show us the rest of our family tree.

Our end led us back to our roots and we were reborn again and again, for our gift was life.

Children of Abraham 

Tuesday, October 10, 2023

Love & Hate

In life some people will love you and some people will hate you. 

Everyday is different, everyday is brand new.

To see people die because of hate should give everyone a reason to love.

Friends, the world is filled with amazing people, places, and beliefs.

We’re all different and we all paint a different picture of life.

To kill in the name of one’s own belief is to rob yourself of the beauty of someone else’s. 

A wise man knows that when two prophets disagree they do not kill nor do they cause terror, they negotiate in a peaceful manner and a prophet that wages war on innocent people in the name of God may desire the extinction of God’s greatest creation but friends when people love they have sex and create more people. Simply put, is man’s wrath really God’s wrath or is man’s wrath simply hate or a misunderstanding of a prophet’s teachings?

I say this because I’ve come to accept that sometimes the sky is blue, sometimes the sky is white, sometimes the sky is gray, sometimes the sky is red, orange, and even black. 

Some people love it when the sky is gray and some people hate it.

Friends, the point is that we’re all different, and while some people train their mind to hate, the ones who train their mind to love usually make the world much better.

In memory of those lost in the wars on terror.

I’ve learn to love peace & hate war.

Monday, October 9, 2023

Wheeling & Dealing

It was a casual conversation.

It gave me hope.

I came back to the store and found my entire crew hanging from a rope.

Hmm, this could be because of dope, I explained to my right hand man who I kindly paid for his fair share of work.

He left smiling with Teresa who loves to twerk.

Kim’s not answering her phone, I wonder if she’s woke or just treating me like a joke.

Just yesterday, I was labeled a jerk, but here comes Sandy and Donna too. 

They put up a front just as good as Sue.

Political gurus, businesses, by all religious means, the reverend only seems to answer after he’s been seen.

Gina just watched terror run through her entire neighborhood, somebody was spying and spilled the beans.

Folks let me remind you, that when you’re wheeling and dealing nothing is what it seems.

At the end of the day everyone’s trying to make a buck and it’s all love until you run out of luck.

Wheeling & Dealing

Wednesday, October 4, 2023


 Am I just here to rot and die?

To grow old with young dreams.


What is this all for?

Is it the test of time?

Is it brutal torment to feel victory one day then the next watching everyone and everything I love fade away while I sit in a room alone with just memories?

Am I here to be hurt over and over again only to fall in love with the same fate?

Am I here to see prison bars, and inmates with pure hopes of redemption?


What is my purpose?

Am I here to watch cancer eat away at my longevity?

Am I here to lead a bunch of people to the promised land?

God, why?

Is it my fault that in the beginning there was a flaw?

I won’t question God, but I have to find a reason to keep going.

I have to find a reason to live.

Is it to be rich and have everything only to never feel satisfied?

Is it to watch the foolish run free and wild?

Is it to party until I tip over?

I guess without something to believe in there is no reason to ask why.

To whom do I question?

Is it you God when the wind blows my door shut?

Is it you God that gives me strength in times of weakness?

Whom do I trust in?


After I’ve proven my point over and over, I too someday will find the answer to why I have to get up every day and face the world.

I guess it’s to climb the mountain.

I guess it’s to run a thousand miles.

I guess it’s to fly like the birds.

If the answer is to fail over and over again, I guess the real reason I’m here is to keep trying.

Saturday, September 30, 2023

Goodbye September

Goodbye 9/11

Goodbye Labor Day.

Goodbye sorrows.

Hello Autumn breeze.

Hello October.

Hello better days.

Tuesday, September 26, 2023


 It was late, and my donation sign had just gotten wet so I had no way to beg for money. Standing in the parking lot, I had to see about twenty or forty cars pass me by. I’d been stripped down to my natural human state, and all of my accolades now meant nothing. I literally had to shower in the rain and sleep in cold alleys. My days consisted of walking five to ten miles and standing out in the cold for hours begging for what most people took for granted. I’d been crucified, humiliated, and left to hang on a wooden cross in front of an old rundown homeless shelter. Everyone looked so comfortable driving by watching me begging at crosswalks, I’d become the itch in their fragile minds on whether to be blessed of left hanging. My new evolution of formal thinking had turned into an accumulation of real human emotions and intellect. The sad thing about my state of being is that I truly was a good person, but I’d been losing at the money game of life. Many of what I now called, them, were all driving in fancy cars, drowning in their ideologies, traveling to wealthy nations, trading precious goods for cash, eating out at the finest restaurants, and even wasting the one thing that I needed the most, money. I was once a decorated congressman who gave up everything by voting to defund a senseless war that many people never even heard of. Now I’m an impecunious bum, spying on God’s greatest creation for the greater good. Walking in between two worlds  I often found myself bargaining with the God of night and the God of day. I’d come to the conclusion that a humble soul who is left with nothing really only has one thing left and that is his soul. In a quest to satisfy my flesh, my mental state is the strain of slowly being beaten with a hammer with little to no mercy. The truth is that when you become impecunious you literally are the living dead. A thorn on the crowns of the fortunate.

Sunday, September 17, 2023

The Field of Green

Partake, eat, inhale, chew, and be merry with the witches. Friend, walk away, cunning are their spells. In a field of green, many mighty men and women have sold everything they’ve owned to be cured from their fenced off gardens. How clever to obtain enough knowledge to master the nature of the sun’s gifts. As for me, all I have left is a poem to share. How many people actually recover? What is the solution to a mathematical health diagnosis? Friend, the language of medicine is understood by the doctor, not by too many patients. Mighty men find that they are not so mighty at all, they find themselves on their knees praying to be magically cured. Who really understands pain? Who really has the cure? Who really has the power to heal? On my quest to find the answer, I found myself in a maze surrounded by doctors and nurses poking at my flesh. Frustrated and confused, locked in a hospital room wandering through the halls in a gown half naked and drugged up, I realized that life is no different from death and every moment wasted falls in the hands of someone who outsmarted you. Suffering and high off of my medications, I hear the doctors and nurses laughing down the hall. I’m just a patient, my health plan is flawed, and I’m unsure if my God is listening. I’m alone in a room, I’ve been visited several times, sadly, everyone has already thrown in the towel when it comes to my survival. Friends, I’ve lived a life of optimism only to find out that life is like death when the odds are stacked against you, so friend, if you survive another day, write a love letter on the wall so that the next patient can get the message. There is no cure, there’s only pain, and suffering in hopes that the medicine man can save you, and when you die, the plants will feast off of your dead flesh to feed the next generation, but wait, I’m writing a story, so I say that there is no death. This is my life. If you made it this far without stoping your reading, friend, I say that death is an illusion made from life. How do you know that you’re not already dead? How do you even know that you’re alive? How do you know that the sun didn’t just plant you here like a seed? My friend, I’ve died a thousand times only to wake up in another world, yes, I have that much power. Pay close attention to who sells green grass for a cure, and in the end of one life, you will find that the grass is greener on the other side. There is no death, there is only pain and suffering to get to a better day and just because you don’t see me on your next day doesn’t mean that I’m not there, I’m just laying in a field of purple grass somewhere else waiting for a visitor.

The Field of Green.

Tuesday, September 12, 2023

The Lone Sailor

-A dignified sailor poem in a different day and age.

There he or she stands, seabag in hand, alone aboard a ship.

Young sailor, old sailor, on the docks looking to take a dip.

Everyone has moved on to gray old hair, but there stands a statue, of the lone sailor to share.

It’s like a moment in time that you soak in all alone.

It’s like calling from the edge of the earth with no phone.

The good old days, memories gone by, boarding the ship, studying the ways of war, from sun down to sun up.

Alone in a room floating on memories of good and bad days.

Sailing the rough seas watching eagles fly.

Get up, new sailors, and don’t give up the ship.

It’s a battle everyday, so stay on guard.

Far beyond, in a distance at midship, the water is deep and the waves are massive, but no one survives at sea by just being passive.

You’ve got to fight, be wise, and stay alert, because every night alone, helps you appreciate your hard work.

Sadly you must let go of what you left at home, you must be patient and do your time. Because of you there’s a trail with a light and compass for the next generation to find.

So this poem is for you the lone, lone, sailor, because when you’re young, you may not understand that he or she who stands alone must find a belief in something greater.

Trust in a higher power, and in the end you’ll see, that in God we trust is the true magic of a supernatural belief.

When the hearts of men are tested, the lonely sailor floats at sea, rising to the occasion for those yearning to be free. 

The Lone Sailor

Saturday, September 9, 2023


At times I feel as though nothing went wrong.

At times I feel as though nothing went wrong.

But, sadly,

But, sadly,

Something did go wrong. If I recall, two planes and two towers.

Something did go wrong. If I recall, two planes and two towers.

I remember.

I remember.

Thursday, August 31, 2023

The Miracle, the Teacher & Labor Story

 “Victor, it’s me again.”

Startled, Victor jumps out of his bed to turn on the light.

“Who is that talking? Where are you?” He says looking around paranoid.

I’m up here, on the ceiling fan.

Victor notices a small little woman with wings.

“What are you? Are you some kind of angel or something?” He replies.

“If that’s what they call us down here. The names Hudson, and I’m here to get you back to work,” she says while making a fist and showing her small muscles.

“Am I the only one that can see you?”

“Yep, you asked God for help paying the bills, you asked God to help out your coworkers to end the strike so he sent me.” Hudson explained.

“So what do I do?”

Hudson flys over to Victor’s messy desk across the room.

“It will be hard, but I was informed by the big guy that only you could do it. You have to start your very own school.”

Victor takes a seat, “But, I’m too old.”

“When I first visited Abraham and his wife she thought she was too old to have children and she ended up saving humanity. When I first visited Moses he said he couldn’t speak well and he ended up leading the children of Israel to the promised land. Then there was Noah, he built the ark. And now it’s you, the teacher.”

Hudson flew over to his bedrail, “All you have to do is start one school in the hardest part of town.

In about twelve seconds you will fall into a deep sleep and then tomorrow your assignment will begin.”

The next morning Victor woke up to his phone ringing, “Hello,” he said realizing what time it was.

“We’re out here on the picket lines, where are you?” His coworker Dennis asked.

“I’m going to teach my students the old fashion way. I think we’ve turned away from God Dennis. I’m going to go back to the fundamentals,” Victor explained.

“Victor, it’s 2023, and we have to go by state rules. If you’re having your come to Jesus moment why don’t you just go teach at a private school?” Dennis replied.

“I had the strangest dream last night, I dreamed about good and obedient students. Students who listened and created a better world. I also dreamed about a library. It was big. People from all over the world came to my school to learn and teach. We’re missing the key ingredient to the imagination Dennis, we’re leaving out a creator. That’s the magic of learning.” 

“Well, you keep dreaming, I’m going to get back on the picket lines.”

Hanging up the phone, Victor noticed Hudson laying across his desk. 

“Good job, now go to visit Mr. Wesley on Cambridge St. He has some land with an old school building on it. One of his daughters just got in a very bad accident. She can’t take care of the old school anymore, he’s going to give it to you and that’s when the miracle begins,” Hudson explained.

Victor threw on a T-Shirt and some jeans. It was reaching the end of summer so he had to move quickly.

Sure enough, Hudson was right. Mr. Wesley was at the building on Cambridge St. on the phone with his wife checking on his daughter.

“I’ll call you back sweetheart, I have a visitor,” he puts his phone down, “Victor, what brings you here?”

“I came to apply for a job,” he said.

“It’s been slow. Work isn’t what it used to be, but I do need some help with one of my buildings.” Mr. Wesley explained.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Hey, wait, I thought the teachers were on strike. Why aren’t you on the picket lines?” Mr. Wesley asked.

“What do you need me to do?” Victor replied, ignoring his question.

“Here’s the keys to my old school building Victor, may God be with you.”

Moving fast, Victor called everyone he knew. The fire was burning inside of him, and everything Hudson said Victor was all ears.

Spending every last dime he had to get his school prepared Victor turned to Hudson who was standing on some books by his old used desk.

“What do I do now?” He asked.

Dusting off her hands, “Now you wait, but while you’re waiting I have to remind you that this school building was built in 1972 by laid off steel workers. They built it to prove that they could serve the community’s needs on their own and they did. They funded this school all alone and every student graduated and moved on. They were on the brink of taking over this entire district until the war broke out and they all got drafted. Go to the basement. They left a huge box of bibles down there. I want you to put them in every classroom. Mr. Wesley has already started spreading the word and you will get your first class in three days. Now these kids were home schooled but their parents had to go back into the workforce so give them a break on the financial side. Just teach and we angels will do the rest.” Hudson explained.

“What about money? How are we going to pay the bills?” Victor asked.

“A teacher should be smart, but to be a good teacher a teacher must be smart enough to teach and plant good fruit. Plant some seeds first and witness the power of 360 knowledge,” Hudson said, pointing to an old lemonade stand in the back of his classroom.

Lightbulbs began to go off in Victor’s head. 

“I’m going to teach my students how to learn and fund this school.”

Seeing the state of a failed school district, Victor’s classes were filling up fast. The community donated books and exchanged labor for credits. They worked, and some even paid Victor to sleep at the school just to keep the money in circulation. In less than three years Victor was on the verge of creating universal learning techniques that would change the entire system of education and funding.

Dennis couldn’t believe it. How did a language teacher do it? How did one phone call about an impossible dream come true?

The next morning the newspaper read:

“The Miracle, the Teacher & the Labor story.”

Victor did it.

He gave his community a happy ending.


With God, all things are possible.

With out him, a man’s working spirit will be soft, planting his man made trees with artificial fruit that die quickly.

At the end of Victor’s journey, Hudson gave him an apple, and a key to his classroom in the infinite heavens.

The End.

Sunday, August 27, 2023

King of Kings

The first king thought he had it all figured out.

The second king killed furiously.

The third king lied.

The fourth king had too many women.

The fifth king fought too many wars.

The sixth king had too many enemies.

The seventh king had too many Gods.

The eighth king healed the sick, fed the poor, and was killed because he said he came to free the people from their sins. His story has given kings strength on their last days, and has given people with nothing a reason to rise. In times of sadness, in times of tragedy, in times of war, and in times of complete chaos, supreme understanding and calm spirits have to come from somewhere. For a person to live in freedom and forget about the greatest story ever told, that person may not be free at all, but is deprived of another place outside of this world, another kingdom, and most of all—another home. This can’t be it, there has to be more. If one out of a billion sperm make it to the egg, where does the other 999,999,999 million go? Some kings think they have it all figured out, some kings kill furiously, some kings lie, some kings have too many women, some kings fight too many wars, some kings have too many enemies, some kings have too many Gods, and some kings show mercy. In the end, we all have to die with a legacy left behind. One out of all eight kings has given me a reason to get up and try again. My ego is gone, I humbly take off my own crown, I let go of my own faults, and most of all I find a friend. As my brother, if I can’t do it he can. I find the king of kings.

King of Kings.

Wednesday, August 23, 2023

Henry the Raccoon

 “Hey, Henry, where were you last night? We had a feast at Mrs. Steven’s house, she had fresh burgers in her trash. I saved some for dinner. We were eating good and then the lights went out. It was pitch black. If it weren’t for the car lights, Sasha would be dead. She almost got ran over.” Deana said while Henry took his seat at the table.

“I’m sorry, I cut the power lines. I confess, it was me.” 

This got Deana’s full attention.

“What!” She replied.

“Yeah, I’m tired of living trash can to trash can Deana. The humans have everything that we dream of out here in the woods. I found out where they’re getting all of their power from so I slashed the lines.” Henry explained.

“You could have killed yourself. Have you lost your mind?”

“Yes, and I’m tired. Do you see any light out here in the woods besides the sun and the moon? Those humans have advanced far beyond what we can imagine so one power line at a time should bring them back down to our level,” Henry said while preparing his utensils at the table to eat.

His comments also got Sasha’s attention, “Oh my, so did you start the fire at Ms. Richardson’s house also?” Sasha asked.

Henry couldn’t help but get his raging point across, “I did it all,” he replied.

Deana began serving the burgers that she collected from the garbage last night. 

“So you were pretty busy. What time did you get in last night?” She asked.

“I got in just in time to catch a shower in the sewer. I was having a mental breakdown and it felt good to finally let my frustration out.”

Sasha and Deana couldn’t help but smile as Henry scarfed down his burgers. 

“I had a feeling that you were up to something so I made you a shirt,” Sasha said grabbing some of her best art T-Shirts from the back room.  

When Henry noticed what the shirt said he smiled and hugged his little girl.

“Make raccoons great again,” is what the shirt read.

Enjoying their family moment, Henry began dancing to a new song he made for his Raccoon lives matter club. Filled with a brief spirit of liberation, he and his family celebrated their small revolutionary moment.

Due to the fact that he was an animal, he got off on all charges.

The End.

Tuesday, August 15, 2023

The Budget Pt. 2

Things have to be accounted for.
Without money, nothing gets paid, and if no one shows up to work, then there could be a problem.
Something wakes me up and tells me to work until I drop dead.
Something tells me not to be like them, those lazy coke snorters.
Those people who sit, smoke, & drink all day doing nothing.
I don’t want to judge or discriminate, but instead of putting a tattoo on my flesh, I would rather make sure folks are given what’s due to them. 
In my perfect world my accountant is paid because my clients pay and are happy.
In my world, there is a sense of order, a sense of pride in handling responsibilities.
I love women, but I’ve come to love my peaceful nights alone reading a book.
I’ve grown to love my space, my quiet time to myself.
In my world, I have to pay the bills by any means necessary.
I get paranoid when the bills are not paid.
I get frustrated when I can’t meet my budget goals.
I get militant, confused, and crazy.
This may sound sick, but when a bill collector calls me I have a phobia of reneging against the contract.
Bill collectors don’t want to hear about God or your feelings, they want what’s due. Simply put, they want their money.
I’m a nice guy, but I’ve learned a valuable lesson in life. I’ve learned about my religion, my family, my race, and my friends. I’ve learned that when it comes to money, it can make a good soul bitter. It can make a blind man steal glasses and a revered kill his entire congregation with toxic juice.
It can make a musical genius say whatever to sell records.
It can make an attractive woman strip to feed her babies.
Debt is like being eaten by a snake and being finished off by ants carrying your crumbs of sweet flesh to the queen.
Debt is like being whipped into submission while the slave master pays the bills with your children’s free labor as you tend the fields to pay room and board.
Debt feels like a burning flame deep inside of your soul. 
It’s a loose trigger with little to no bullets to hit the target.
Being around poor people makes it no easier, they don’t seem to understand, and the word no could cost you your life. 
Some people enjoy seeing people suffer in debt.
It’s almost like some people can smell money so they take pride in stealing your increase.
Life is not fair when you’re in debt because you’re worthless, you’re a slave to the people you owe.
Determined to keep my budget in tack, I know I’ve lost it.
I know I’m stuck in my ways.
I know I have to pay the bills, and that alone gives me common sense enough to finally get the message.
People can think that I’m crazy, they can assume that I’m weird, they can even call me out of my name, but I will do everything to make sure the bills are paid. In my world, my life depends on my budget goals, and in my opinion, there is no such thing as being rich. Everyone has to pay, even free loaders.
I’m counting right now to stay within the budget.
Even if I have to count pennies.

The Budget

Hmm, things just don’t seem to be adding up.

I guess I’ll start trimming and cutting some cost.

Ahhh, that feels better.

Oh boy, someone just threw a brick through the window.

I guess I can’t please everyone.

Oh, I forgot about the property taxes; figuring, adding, and paying the bills isn’t easy. 

I wonder if I should apply for a cheaper loan.

The Budget.

Sunday, August 13, 2023

Neon Flames

 “Kid B, what burns my man?” Dougie flame asked.

“Peep game God MC, I had this mellow fresh dream you dig.” Kid B replied.

“And what was that new school?”

“You see Dougie Flame this here neon flame. The colors are not like the red and blue flames. This is mine young God. These are my colors. I dreamed them then brung them to life old school. My art is priceless.” Kid B explained.

Seeing Kid B’s new invention inspired Dougie Flames. Kid B’s art was before his time, he was the originator of the neon flame. At every gathering Kid B had the lights off with his glowing neon flames. The world had never seen anything like it. Kid B had created Neo vibes, the twisting of the mind to a mellowed outer space on earth. He was the founder of night stars and Cee Lo grooves. The kid was king of the bright bottle, bringing light to the night with his three isotopes. He was the originator of the neon atom. Kid B was neutral with his 10 electrons, 10 protons, and a completed outer shell of 8 electrons. When tempted by the drug users to poison his mind, Kid B’s escape line was “If you stressed by the red and blue flames get down with my neon gas flames and free yo mind.”

Kid B had the purist beats and sounds in town. When folks heard his organized noise they couldn’t help but welcome Kid B into their foggy atmosphere. He alone cleaned up the streets you dig. He was sent from afar to introduce empty corrupted minds to a new kind of energy. His sessions were rocked out with health drinks and organic fruit juices. The young God was sent to earth to ignite the neon flames. His flag was filled with fluorescent colors and his political ideology manifested with debates rooted from a neutral corner. Kid B was the originator, the alien with neon cash printed from the planet of peace. His money had his neon face on it. Dig the God MC, Kid B, with the neon flames that were just too cool to burn and light enough to fly like an angel with fluorescent wings. Dig the neon flames. Get down with the originator of old and new funk in a place called present time. 

Kid B & his Neon Flames

Thursday, August 10, 2023

The Art of Genocide

Genocide- Killing with no mercy; killing with the will to destroy a particular group of people completely.

Brutal he was, his power spanned from this corner to that corner, but a child was born from a heathen tribe and created an uprising. This upset the dictator. King Kush, was his name.

“You have stood tall through it all, King Kush the great, now tell your generals what you desire,” Sir Dash said.

King Kush took his position.

“My people tip over in their wine. They have become weak and fragile in their wealth. The Gods gave me a dream to cleanse the land last night.”

These words got Sir Dash’s attention, “Is that what you want?”

Kush took a walk to his window to observe the land.

“I hear my men have grown jealous of me, and what is this symbol the heathen tribe is carrying around?”

“It’s a cross. They have created a new God to worship because they feel that you have deprived them of their freedoms,” Sir Dash explained.

“Do they not know that God speaks through me. Don the black garments, I understand what the dream meant, at sunrise, if little Lilly does not allow the sunlight through the clouds, then a dark death will be unleashed to cleanse the land.” Kush replied.

“What about the women and their children?”

Kush pointed to a scar on his face that one of his concubines had given him.

“They caused this mess, now they too must suffer.”

Word had spread quickly about Kush’s plan to cleanse the land and the people had grown weary. Drug smugglers, thieves, and robbers began collecting their last spoils to skip town.

Standing on a hill, the town watched as a group of men stood on a mountain in black robes on black horses. Kush watched from his balcony to see if little Lilly was going to let the sunlight in.

Little Lilly was his daughter who died at the hands of the heathen tribes. Kush believed that she was a sacrifice to the sun God because he had shown to much mercy on matters that he did not accept. In deep thought, Kush would wake up every morning to see his little girl shining through the clouds but this particular morning was different. 

Kush’s army stood and awaited his command. Watching the sun come through the clouds, Kush noticed something different, he noticed a black rainbow reflecting from his soldier’s ready to carry out his genocide in the morning sky. Spellbound, he saw his daughter walking from the clouds.

“Father, there has been enough bloodshed. Our God gives me back to you as a gift to save our people from genocide.” Lilly explained to her father.

The entire nation of Kush became humbled at the sight of seeing Lilly given back as a gift from the Gods. They threw away their heathen symbols only to witness the true power of their God. A God of mercy, a God of strength, a God of life, and most of all, a God of peace. The land of Kush had been reborn, saved from genocide by the risen daughter of King Kush.

The Art of Genocide had now been painted with a brush of divine mercy.

Little Lilly was now Immortal, a virgin princess reborn to purify her people. 

Reborn to save them from genocide.

The End.

Tuesday, August 8, 2023

Lost Soldier

I had to vote on a critical issue today.

Honestly, I’ve come to find that no matter what I decide  I’m still a lost soldier.

I’m on my own in a field.

I’m on my own, lost in a jungle.

Hearing the enemy advancing, I find out that I’m surrounded. 

My fate is now in God’s hands.

Property of my country, sitting in a cell with no help, I read off my government number only to realize that I’ve been left for dead.

If I fight, either way, I’m outnumbered.

I can only win with a supernatural force.

I’m a lost soldier, wondering if the people will remember me.

They don’t even know I’m still alive.

I’m just a number.

I’m just a lost soldier, aware, awoke, and alone in enemy territory.

I am on my own.

My flag is my white t-shirt with my black government issued number on it tied to a stick waiving for help.

Lord help me.

Sunday, July 30, 2023

The Good News

 After more bad news, I almost let my blessing slip away. I almost forgot about God’s grace. I almost forgot about the good news. 

Thursday, July 27, 2023


This piece is written to help you, not insult or harm you, if you’re a victim, then this piece should humble you enough to warn other people before they too get burned. 

Warning, I’m graphic, I don’t discriminate, and the person who has me, rarely tells. What am I?

I’m lurking in between, and I ruin your fantasies. What am I?

I bring you to your knees. What am I?

Just when you think you’re secure, I break in and ruin your day. What am I?

Ha ha ha, you thought the devil was visible with the naked eye, I’ll eat away at your entire body while the pure at heart watch you die slowly. What am I?

I’ve taken down mighty men, warriors, and powerful women. What am I?

Those hiding behind their mask keep forbidden secrets also. Their affairs cause sudden deaths. What am I?

I take down presidents, CEOs, teachers, and even dictators. What am I?

I infect athletes, prostitutes, lawyers, police, and even criminals. What am I?

I don’t discriminate, I even hang out at flashy rainbow pride parades. What am I?

I’m an equal opportunity infection. What am I?

Ha ha ha, I don’t ask and I don’t tell. What am I?

I’m the micro balance of nature, the reminder of human fault. What am I?

While you’re thinking you’re invisible, I creep in like a thief in the night. What am I?

The doctor can only hold your secrets for so long, you played your husband, your preacher, and even your God. You didn’t expect me to be your outcome. What am I?

As you beg for forgiveness, I’m the wrath that itches away, burning you and dragging you into the eternal fire. 

Ha, ha, ha, you played the player’s game and the invisible servants of the alien race merged with your DNA to eliminate the entire planet of your sinful passions. What am I? I even infect filthy slave masters and pimps. I infect spoiled teens and adults looking for their quick fix. I show no mercy to those who step away from pure passions. I have no laws or guilt, I am the punishment for the lie that he or she told. I am the dare that so many take. I am the forbidden fruit and the law that you broke. Soak it all in, eat it up, you’re all guilty so beware of your lustful desires. 

I am the scary movie with no happy ending, I am the STD. 

If this poetry was too much for you, forgive me. I love everyone so I do my best to tell the truth. It’s true love.

I’m older, wiser, and I’m spreading wisdom.

Monday, July 24, 2023

Born to be a Hero

This piece is personal.

Read it with a little imagination.

As a child, a male child, should I say, I had to find out the hard way.

Yes, I serve God, but sadly I had to learn how to fight.

I did choose to walk away at times. Yes, even after nearly being stomped to death by someone I thought to be a friend.

I admit that walking around with a black eye is enough embarrassment to last a lifetime, but it’s real.

One of my biggest challenges was finding out that I was born to be a hero.

I literally watched my mother step in front of a gun to save her siblings, so, yes, it’s in my bloodline. It’s genetic. 

My cousin was and still is a day to day street hopper, but when my entire family was held up at gunpoint he spoke up and talked the shooters down.

He also stood up for me at times.

My hardest challenge was watching a bully literally torture the entire class with his goons. I literally pissed my pants standing up to them in the bathroom.

That was a hard pill to swallow, being out numbered with no help from the people you’re standing up for.

I admit that my life has been a mess, but I’m an optimist, so I’ve made the best out of it.

I’m also a little moody at times and I seem to get energy from my dreams.

I guess that’s my special ability.

Friends, some things in life make you wiser with age, but being born a hero has taught me one thing and that is the fact that you can sense unusual vibes and you have to deal with the fact that you can’t save everyone. The reality is that some people just don’t want to be saved. At times you can barely save yourself. This sense eats away at your psyche. You can also feel a force guiding you into the fight for stability. At times you do feel supernatural. So supernatural that you’re even hard on yourself.

I’ve come to learn one thing for sure and that is that I have to believe in a higher power, and the more I yearn to save the world, the more I learn it’s a process that takes shape over time, I can only make it better, and be a volunteer of the process. 

Bravery can take a lot out of a man. It can eat away at a person’s mind. It’s like climbing a tall building a thousand times and looking down. You don’t anticipate a fight, but it becomes you.

When you see a fellow person wasting their life away or in pain, or you see a dead body rotting away because someone killed him or her, it makes you bitter inside.

Being born a hero makes you physically and mentally drawn to yearn for a better world.

The feeling makes you afraid to merge with bad vibes and susceptible to being annoyed by confusion. It can be hard on the nerves, and it makes it very hard to trust. 

As a man battling his own demons, it’s taught me how the conscience works.

It’s taught me how the mind works, and it’s taught me that no one is perfect, even me.

Noah was a drunk.

King David had an affair that cost him his honor.

Moses married out of his own will.

King Solomon sat in the presence of other gods.

We’re all born with gifts friends, and I’ve come to accept the fact that I was born to be a hero.

I dream of saving as many people as I can.

I’m addicted, and I yearn to do the right thing, even if it requires me having to better myself.

The End

I was in deep thought when I wrote this piece.

I was yearning to feel some better vibes.

I was soaking in some words from biblical stories.

Whatever force guides us through this life, I believe the purpose is to do better.

I can’t help being born to see the good in people.

I hope this message finds you well.

I wrote it in a neutral corner with my thoughts shifting from left to right only to find peace in the middle.

I feel better now, I’ll fly away, with my wings of glory onto the next disaster.

Born to be a hero, friends, there are many more like me, with hidden dreams of saving the world.

Saturday, July 22, 2023

Shadow & the Ultimate Sacrifice

 “Mom, why did you name me Shadow?” 

Shadow’s mom smiled. “Because your father loved his country so much that he put you through school serving it,” Shadow’s mom Lori replied.

“What does that have to do with my name?” Shadow asked while folding up the chair that he was sitting in.

It was the end of his birthday party and a girl that he was interested in kept making fun of his name so Shadow couldn’t help but probe his mother with questions while helping her clean up.

“Your father was great enough to be President. Your father was great enough to rule the world, but he stayed in the shadows. He never took a leadership position because he feared the dark forces. The higher you go up son, the more they will try to stop you. Your father was like a shadow god. He was so powerful that the shadow warriors haunted him until his death,” Lori explained.

Shadow soaked in every word his mother said, “So I’m cursed.”

“No, you’re powerful beyond measure, so powerful that the gods fear you,” Lori replied in certainty.

At that moment, Shadow began to understand why his mother stood by him through it all. Now a grown man at the sensitive age of eighteen, Shadow excelled quickly in life. Like his father, he served the country and it almost seemed like everything he touched turned to gold. Every move he made his mother’s humble message stuck in his mind, but his power unleashed a deep dark hatred that an unknown force was stirring.

“Shadow, our country needs a guy like you to run for president. We need a leader like you. Do what your father refused to do,” Shadow’s friend Isiah randomly said while they were working out at the gym.

“I will think about it,” he replied.

Watching his friend battle with uncertainty another man stepped in as Shadow watched him gracefully give a speech that Shadow wrote in college.

It was his old friend Ronald. 

“He stole my speech,” Shadow said to himself zooming in on Ronald’s new found spotlight. Slow to anger, Shadow felt something eating away at his psyche.

“Shadow, the dark lords are after you. You’ve awakened the shadow gods. They won’t stop until they consume you, but you can’t give up. Good people need you. Even if you don’t run, the Alpha Omega God will protect you, we’re with you Shadow,” Shadow’s friend Isiah said.

“Isiah, are you delusional? What are you talking about?”

“I’m speaking as though I were a fiction writer. We’re like family, so hear me out. Read between the lines. What or whoever killed your father was not for good, it’s because they hated him just like they hate you,” Isiah explained.

Shadow’s phone rang. Grabbing it off of the kitchen table he walked to the other room.

“What do you mean she’s not going to make it?” Shadow asked while Isiah sat listening in the other room.

“Come on, we have to go.”

Rushing to catch up with Shadow, Isiah turned off the television, “It’s your mom isn’t it?” He cautiously asked.

“Yes, now come on.”

He and his friend Isiah rushed to the hospital only to receive word that he was too late. Barging into his mother’s emergency room, Shadow got the news that his mom sadly died on the way to the hospital.

Falling down in disbelief, Shadow could hear his mother’s voice over and over again.

“Mama!” He screamed. 

“Why didn’t she tell me she was sick?” 

Shadow was livid. His mother was all that he had left besides his friend Isiah. After his father died in the war when he was a child his mother raised him with every dime from his dad’s survival benefits. 

Just like his father, he kept all of his family business secret, away from the outside world.

The ambient sounds of the hospital resonated in Shadow’s mind while looking at his mother’s lifeless body.

“Mama, why didn’t you tell me you were sick,” he said while rubbing her still hand.

Seeing the state of the country, support for Shadow poured in. 

Shadow’s family had grown bitter and divided over time so Shadow had a small funeral with just him and some friends and family members who were close.

He informed his family of the conversation that he’d had with his mother when he was eighteen, questioning her about his name. His punchline, while comically reciting her response was, “You’re not cursed, you’re unique.”

After losing his mother, Shadow took some time to reflect, but his new arch enemy, Ronald, would not stop.

As Shadow sat in a room with Isiah, Ronald took to the campaign trail, clowning the only man that he knew could beat him. In interviews, he refused to hold his tongue.

When asked why Shadow would not endorse him, Ronald had a cut throat response.

“He’s a coward. He’s just like his father. He gets off on being loved for his kindness, but deep inside he’s afraid to get dirty. If that makes me the bad guy, then love me for being honest. I want to bring the beast out of good men who sit at home with their families while I’m putting in hard work. They should learn to like a guy like me. I make the world better,” Ronald explained to the reporter with a straight face.

After this, things took a sharp turn. Ronald had now grabbed the world by the neck with his comments. He had a lot of support because of his stance on critical issues. This was now a bloodbath for the most powerful seat in the world and the only man that stood in the way of Ronald’s victory had just been called out. This was a race for the presidency.

Shadow, the country needs you. If that man becomes president, a lot of good people are going to suffer. 

Feeling the pressure, Shadow would have to leave everything behind that he had worked for just to even come close to winning. 

The words of his now dead mother played over and over again in his mind.

Ahh struck by his new found popularity, Shadow turned to Isiah for advice.

“What makes a good man good?” Shadow asked.

“I think it’s when he sacrifices everything for the greater good of the world,” Isiah replied.

Standing tall, Shadow threw in his hat to run for President.

The man gave up everything to win. His wife left him. His mother was in her grave, and like his friend Isiah said, he’d unleashed all forms of dark energy just by being alive, but Ronald stood his ground in heated debates about Shadow’s past. He was criticized for being a goodie two shoes and too weak on foreign policy. Too weak of a soul to be president and not presidential enough. Ronald even called him a pervert that felt on girls while they were asleep when he was a child. The hardest part for Shadow was facing an opponent who he grew up with. He was even criticized for his ethnicity, and laughed at while opposing supporters held black faces of his father at rallies. 

“Who are you to dare run against me? You’re a bum that sits in the shadows masturbating with the tax payer’s money. You’re a fake, who escaped poverty because of your rich father. Now go back to the ghetto where you belong,” Ronald said in a battle to the finish. This race was a bloodbath and Ronald was not backing down.

“Great citizens, today we look at a country that is a mess because of the people Shadow represents. I mean does he even speak proper English. He won’t even play basketball with me and I grew up on his lonely token street. The world needs a leader who will fight for the people who work. The people who don’t run to Uncle Sam to solve their problems. The world needs a leader who puts his country first. Not a man who sits in the shadows painting a false picture of hope,” Ronald said revving up the crowd at his rally.

Things had now gotten personal between Shadow and Ronald. If Ronald did one thing, he did bring the beast out of good people like Shadow, but his friend Isiah stood by his side.

With his back against the wall, Shadow knew he didn’t have much left. His campaign funds were dwindling and he needed the majority support. Ronald was on a tear. He belittled a part of the country that his opponents were afraid to debate on. His debate tactics were cunning, as he mocked the working class for not working hard enough. It was almost like the guy wanted to be hated. He criticized poor voters for not knowing enough to vote. The guy was livid, but this is what his supporters liked. They wanted someone to shoot first and ask questions last. Shadow was no longer in the Shadows. If he didn’t win, Ronald would take over the world. Seeing how wild this race had gotten, this was no longer a two party fight, this was something different, it was a bloodbath on the political stage and talking points had driven innocent people to commit suicide, but there stood Ronald, fueling the flames. It was like debating the devil, he was cunning, smart, brave, and didn’t care what he said until the microphone was in Shadow’s hands.

“Yes, I know my story, I know who I am, but I also know what I want. I want a country filled with three words, ‘Trust in God.’ Ronald is a man fueling the flames, but I am a man with nothing left but God’s grace. If you vote for Ronald, I promise you that you will live in a Godless nation and no man can win without God. I have a proven record of service to this country. Yes, I too have skeletons in my closet, but I know who I am. I’ve repented of my wrongs and I trust in God. So I want a country where we all trust in God. So, I, in my speech, knowing that even if I lose, God is with me. If this is a nation that trust in God, then who would vote for a proven atheist like Ronald? A proven dictator who holds a bible for votes. There is no ‘we’ in Ronald. In his world it’s just him. At this moment we need something supernatural fighting with the good men and women of this nation, we need someone devoted to pleasing God. Someone who turns to him for guidance and strength. Yes, my family has stood in the shadows, but great people, where there are shadows there is light. I am stepping into the light to bring this nation back into the shining sun because we have been sitting in the depths of evil. And if Ronald wins, we will remain in the darkness and be consumed by the beast of hell. So I say, not, I, nation, but In God ,we, Trust.”

After these sincere words, Shadow stood his ground throughout the entire race. He had little to work with and he and his friend Isiah fought to the end. The mention of God in his speech confused Ronald’s team. Running as a proud democrat whose message was far right didn’t make Ronald seem like an authentic candidate, but now Shadow had turned the tides. He sounded more real, more graceful, and gave the people a belief as if something more powerful had been watching over the country. This last speech had given Shadow mass support from other God fearing republicans and democrats. After Election Day, Shadow did what his mother spoke into him from day one, she told him to get the inheritance that his father and God had left for him and he did. He emerged from the shadows and went all the way to the underworld to fight with the forces that made him feel cursed. Shadow stepped into the light. He won, and he made the ultimate sacrifice to do it. Now all he had to do was lead.

The End.

Monday, July 17, 2023

The Bombmaker & the Hook

 “If it isn’t Lil Dash. What brings you to my laboratory, my friend?” Professor Oppenheimer asked.

“I have enemies. They’re massive and growing. If I don’t stop them we’re all going to die,” Dash explained.

“Ohh, and what business do you want with me? I’m just a professor.” Oppenheimer replied.

“You’re a professor who makes bombs. Teach me.”

At that moment the room grew silent. The hook that played over and over again in Professor Oppenheimer’s mind was, “Teach me.” Here stood in Oppenheimer’s classroom, a boy yet to become a man, looking to do some serious damage. Oppenheimer was not a bad man but this moment in time shook him. This kid, Dash, didn’t even ask him how he was doing, nor did he ask about his family. Dash wanted to destroy his enemies. Unsettled by what had become of his passion, professor Oppenheimer dropped his pen that was being held in his right hand. He looked Dash in his eyes, “Today, if you make a deal with the devil do you think you can live with the outcome of a complicated mathematical equation? Because once it becomes you and you replicate it over and over again one million people just like you will be created until there’s nothing left. I am the father of the bomb, son this is the hook. Once you receive this bate a million gates will be opened. A million gates that you won’t be able to close. A million black holes will be created and a million things and people will get sucked in and spit out while their souls float back to the source.”

Dash showed him a picture of his young college friends studying in foreign countries. 

“They are no longer my friends, they took your teachings and killed my family. I have to make them pay before they kill more people. If you can’t teach me, how do I stop this?” Dash asked.

Professor Oppenheimer slowly gets up after picking up his pen in the middle of their conversation.

“Here’s a riddle. A child finds a book under his bed. He believes the book will save the world while also knowing that everything and everyone eventually dies. What does the child really want?”

“Just teach me, please, before it’s too late.”

Watching Dash take the bate, Professor Oppenheimer reels him in and gives him several nuclear physics equations.

“Chemistry is the doorway into everything. What you didn’t know was better for you, but what you’re about to find out will blow you away.”

The Bombmaker & the Hook

Friday, July 14, 2023

The Shawnee Rebels

 “Calvert, why are you angry?” Hardeep asked.

These were times of triumph. Hardeep and his tribe had just won a war, but something was brewing in his son Calvert, Hardeep sensed another war about to begin.

“Krishna chose a man from the Seminal tribe. She slept with him.” Calvert explained to his father.

“I assume that you had feelings for Krishna.”

Hardeep could see what a fatal attraction was doing to his son.

“I will kill them, I will kill them all. I told her that if she left our tribe for their’s that none of them would live to see tomorrow.”

Hardeep did everything to calm his son down, but it was too late. Krishna had broken his heart. She’d been a part of Calvert’s life since he was a teen and a woman’s betrayal could cause any man to rebel.

Calvert had turned into a mad man. He saddled his horse and planned an attack with his tribe.

The rage in Calvert’s eyes was like that of a bald eagle. He burned like fire cooking a hot steak. 

“Are you going to fight with your son?” Lord Shiva asked.

“Calvert believes that our women are sacred. Some time ago he told me that he had a dream that if the Seminal tribe got ahold of our women that they would use them to defeat us.” Hardeep explained.

“Was he certain?”

Hardeep pointed to the smoke from a distance, “Certain enough to rebel against a peace treaty. Because of Krishna we must prepare for another war.”

Calvert’s rage fueled him to rebel against the entire Seminal tribe. He and his people slaughtered all of their night warriors and scalped Krishna in a brutal execution. Carrying the heads of his enemies he sent a message to the women in his tribe and they understood. After the war, Hardeep saw the mighty hand of his people in his son. Krishna caused a rebellion. Krishna unknowingly created a rebel.

The End.

Monday, July 10, 2023

The Overdose

Did someone lose their mind? I think someone had a plan that went terribly wrong. I’m sitting in a room wondering where everyone went. They’re all gone. Is this a movie? Living zombies roaming the streets. Brainwashed people finding their God in a neighborhood infested with drugs. Everyone I know. Everyone I love. Did a doctor discover the wrong cure? Did a drug dealer go mad? I asked God for peace of mind not for a dope fix. I’m slowly feeling my conscience fading, someone, or something is trying to kill us all. I take a seat, my only outlet is a pen and a pad. I’ll write it all down, God help me, everyone around me has gone under. Drugs, weed, alcohol, cigarettes, gambling, and even pain medication. I’m not perfect, but this is like a slow mental death while facing an enemy that blends in. Writing helps me fight the addicts, deep inside I’m a little man wondering what went wrong. Drunks and addicts all around me, no one seems stable. After they get their fix, they somehow look normal. I had no clue that growing old would be this painful and lonely. Whom do I trust? Where do I turn too? I can’t give in, I can’t fail, I don’t know who’s doing this to these people. I guess they’re doing it to themselves. I guess they’re dragging everyone down to the underworld with them until we all face the drug master. I guess something or someone wants us all to eat off of the forbidden tree. Eat until we overdose and die. That’s why I have to be wise. I have to be stronger. I have to be a deity of life. I have to speak life into existence or everything will die. I have to overdose on positive things so I don’t go under. I have to be the light of the world. When I fall, I have to get back up and finish the race. The world needs me. Everyone needs me. I have to believe this in order to survive in this crowded drug infested jungle. In learning my history, I know who I am. I did not do this, but an unknown enemy did. An enemy in a room counting money while everyone around him or her dies from an overdose. 

Saturday, July 8, 2023

Raw Knuckles

 It was pouring down raining and I could feel a fight coming. Karah owed me money, but I’d kept quiet. We were in year three and I noticed she’d found a new friend. You see, I have always been a peacemaker, but some mess I can take and some mess I can’t. I needed some help with a serious matter so I asked Karah if I could get some assistance at a baseball game and the girl literally spit in my face. I would never hit a girl so I took it as a loss, but her boyfriend for some reason got very bossy and literally punched me in the face. A vivid reader of the Bible, I wanted to walk away but it was too late, he struck first. Standing tall after I soaked up the punch, I checked my foot work and kindly went to combo one; swing low, watch him open up the face then uppercut, bam, direct hit. He staggered in shock. He went into attack mode and tested my left hand by attacking my right side. I expected that, so I went for the left jab after he left his jaw wide open. Connected. Another good punch. I then noticed blood. I pissed him off so he charged me with his body weight. I used it against him though by stepping aside and pushing him to the ground. It was all raw knuckles from there. After that the crowd watched a fight that technically I didn’t want to have but I guess some people just never learn. Feeling someone grab me, I flipped over their head, it was security,

“That’s enough!” He said.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t want this,” I replied. 

“We know, he asked for it, now get out of here before things get out of hand.”

Noticing witnesses everywhere, I knew this was just the beginning of a never ending fight with karma and alpha males fighting for their respect back. I awaited foolishness because that’s all that comes out of a raw knuckle fight. 

I went home, took a shower and prepared for the next fight. Sadly, someone videotaped the whole incident. I refused to pick up a gun, if they were not going to bring the raw knuckles then I would forever win.

The End.

Wednesday, July 5, 2023


It was Willie’s birthday and he had nothing to do.

He went to the amusement park and lost his shoe.

Riding up and down the rollercoaster way, he found his fun let come what may.

“I’m going to ride until I’ve ridden them all.”

He road every rollercoaster big and tall.

Spinning in circles, twist and turns, Willie even road the Big Worm.

Before he left the park he found his shoe, and when asked if he wanted lemonade he said, “I’ll take two.”

Leaving to go home, he felt so refreshed that he had to personally get something off his chest. 

He heard the owner’s name was Sue, so when he met her he couldn’t help but say, “Thank You.”

Monday, July 3, 2023

Charlie & the Independents

Running from a supermarket robbery Charlie was afraid.

“It almost seems like the world is coming to an end,” he said to his cousin Lucia while explaining what had just taken place at the store.

“Don’t worry Charlie, God will send us angels from heaven. It will be like our very own encounter with aliens. All we have to do is trust him Charlie, you just wait and see,” Lucia replied.

The next day at midnight, Charlie got up to get a snack when he heard a loud noise in the back yard. Peeking through the window he noticed people outside near his pool.

“Hey, it’s him.”


“It’s him. The kid that asked us for help.”

In a ball of light the voices and rays from outside appeared in Charlie’s kitchen.

Afraid and shocked, Charlie ran to hide in the bathroom.

“Yo, kid, it’s us.”

“Who?” Charlie asked.

“The heroes you drew in art class. The Independents. That’s what you called us.”

“Wow, Lightning Jack, Charger Tracey, and X-Ray Mike,” you’re my characters. I made you to help me bring stability back to the world.

“And that’s what we’re going to do kid,” Lighting Jack replied.

“My cousin was right after all, wow, look at your wings,” Charlie said, observing his heroes.

Lightning Jack stood tall, “Did you really think that your trust in God would let you down?”

“Yeah, now tell us what you want us to do Charlie, we’re here to serve you,” Charger Tracey explained.

“Well, I want to get things back to a balance. Give people some hope. We’re losing hope and it’s killing us all slowly.

“Hey, Charlie, I see right through you my man, we got you covered,” X-Ray Mike said pumping up his sneakers. 

“Before we go out to save the world little President Charlie, as the independents we can’t unite until you put on the unity ring. Then we go shake things up bro,” Lighting Jack explained.

Charlie put on his unity ring and watched his independents shine like rays of light, bringing stability back into the world by fighting crime with pure vibes of powerful rays.

The rays were so powerful that the sun’s energy began to magnify slowly killing the negative energy fields.

Charlie began to feel all of the world’s pain.

“We have to unify,” he shouted, pointing his glowing ring to the independent’s unity balls.

“Each ball will destroy the demon vibes Charlie. We will unleash the positive gamma rays at your command,” X-Ray Mike said while preparing to annihilate the demon droids that were eating away at the human race.

Lightning Jack bolted through the clouds creating glowing rain while Charger Tracey began to charge the atmosphere.

“On your command Charlie, we will unite to blow like fireworks on the 4th of July.”

Seeing the clouds forming in the night sky, Charlie felt the Shekinah Glory. He felt his entire being filling up with positive energy.

“Independents Unite!” Charlie shouted as a huge ball of light blinged from his glowing ring into the night sky.

At that very moment, Charlie and the independents opened up the heavens and watched an army of angels destroy the evil forces and in the end, after the dust settled, there was peace.

“Well little President Charlie, our work is done. Anytime you need us, just put on the unity ring and we’ll come running. For our first battle together we’ll call it Independence Day.”

Charlie’s cousin Lucia was right after all. All he had to do was trust in God. By trusting in God all things were possible.

Charlie & the Independents