Suicide

Psych Tech: You didn’t put your race on the patient form, is there a reason?

Patient: I’m Black, but I do have some Indian and a tad bit of other nationalities in me, but at the end of the day, I’m black. Happy African American History Month.

Psych Tech: You didn’t put your sexuality on the patient form, why?

Patient: I love women. I think about sex all the time, I’m a man. I don’t ask and I don’t tell, I fantasize even about you sometimes, Happy Valentine’s Day.

Psych Tech: You didn’t put your job on the patient form, Why?

Patient: I’m the President of a small corporation, Happy President’s Day.

Psych Tech: Are you having suicidal thoughts?

Patient: Ms., all my life, I’ve spoke life into the atmosphere. I dwell in the God and Goddess temples and at times, I feel like I not only built the pyramids but led the workers who put the last rock on top to freedom. Why would I give up on those who love me, yes, I’ve had to shovel S*** my entire life, but why give people the satisfaction of knowing that I threw in the towel. I saw a man with no arms jump roping. I saw a prisoner do 30 years. I saw a veteran live out on the street for half of his life. I saw a drug baby become President. I don’t want to give up on those who do believe in me. I don’t want to give up on life. Yes, I’ve been through a lot, but I’m going to keep going. I’m going to keep fighting until my body breaks.

Psych Tech: I’m assuming you like the picture of the fist?

Patient: Only when I have to fight for my peace. I assure you that suicide is not in my options to escape this life. I would rather make those who hate me suffer by seeing my face rise everyday and smiling. It will motivate them if I keep getting up when they see me down. It will prevent them from committing suicide because they’ll spend their entire life waiting to see me suffer. Suicide is a choice, my choice is to take the pain while living and be prepared for whatever is after this life. Yes, it gets hard, but Ms., I assure you that I haven’t thought about… Suicide.

The Little Bees

 “It’s a good sunny day Pete,” Alisha said buzzing and pulling pollen.

“Yeah, it’s good to see us all coming together to meet the Queen bee’s demands this year. I’m just a little surprised at how there’s not as many flowers as it used to be some years back,” Pete explained.

Noticing a cloud of smog, Pete and Alisha got their first lesson about pollution.

“We better head back to the hive Pete,” Alisha said while taking notice of the vibrant color change.

Pete couldn’t believe how fast things had changed in the field of pickers.

The next day the little bees that were left didn’t really have much to say. 

Alisha stood tall, “We can’t let pollution kill us all, our Queen is not happy.”

Pete was a little less optimistic, “It’s over friends. There’s no way we can please the Queen with such a small field of flowers.”

This was the biggest challenge for the Mayberry Bees, but when things always seemed hopeless they would go visit their old bee keeping friend Jerry. He always knew what to do.

“Good day friends,” Jerry said, noticing Pete and Alisha buzzing at his window.

“Jerry, pollution is killing our flowers, can you help us please our queen?” Pete asked.

Jerry smiled at his little furry friends.

“No need to worry, nature will eventually balance things out. In the meantime, I will relocate you and your colony to a better place filled with sunshine and flower fields,” Jerry assured his friends.

The next day, Jerry kept his word and relocated his Bee buddies. They were very pleased. After seeing his friends off to their new start with a happy queen, he vowed to fight against pollution. Eventually nature did even things out because a huge explosion stopped all activity and left the pollution creating factories empty in the long run. Jerry didn’t even have to do much because somehow Mother Nature protected him and his furry bee friends. After the factories closed down the rain washed away all of the pollution and she created a new field of flowers for the bees.

In the End, Honey, was the gift to the world.

It evened things out.

The End

Page 8888

Stepped in the house with an offer from an installment loan company. They’re good at sending mail-in offers. I often have pretty good conversations with them and the real estate agents, but I never get approved.

I’ve come to admit that I’m afraid of women, being an old veteran, I’m just about tired of being sh** on. I tried to join a few churches in the past but even the brethren have a way of getting free labor. I still care though, I still set aside my Bible reading on the weekends.

I guess I’ll take my retirement check and spend it on mom. She’s always been in my corner. Yep, payoff some bills and hangout with mom. 

Focusing on page 09021945, I always wondered what would make a person take a bare naked picture and show the world. Was it for money or for little lonely perverts like me? I quickly put it down, I don’t think a prostitute can heal what a broken hearted man truly feels inside, I actually think they can make it worse. I guess this’ll be the last time I look at page 09021945. 

Waking up the next morning I thank God for page 8888. It’s the chapter when I left the battlefield. I’ve probably told my story to a hundred people. Yes, I’m grateful I made it out alive. Everyday I get up, I thank whoever is controlling all of this, it wasn’t my time, I was given a second chance. I decided to write a letter to myself on page 8888. A letter of peace, while also speaking life into the atmosphere.

Thank God for page 8888. 

A new beginning.

The Remote

Strange is a good word.

At first I thought it was fiction, Sci-Fi stuff—sending signals to the brain and causing a mess.

These fools randomly came in with guns and killed everybody in the place.

Crazy, wild, chaotic!

I mean how many times could it happen? Once, twice, no, over 600 times.

Mystified and upset, I stumbled across some old ancient knowledge.

Someone found a way to send signals to random folks heads—taking complete control of their brain making them kill.

How freaky, a group of people sitting in a room programming criminals to randomly kill.

Minds being programmed to carry out mass shootings, sounds like a conspiracy but pay close attention to what the shooter is doing in his spare time.

Listen to what they’re saying.

These freaks play God, they have the remote.

Me & My Rhymes

Even if no one likes me at least I got my rhymes.

I can be lonely, down and out, but my rhymes can show me a way out.

I can rhyme about anything, even the trees that provide shade on a hot day.

I can even rhyme about the birds in the sky.

If I want to get even more creative, I can add some music to my rhymes. 

I can rhyme at funerals, and even on stage.

I can rhyme at concerts and even arcades.

I don’t need much in this life as long as I got my rhymes.

A Mythical Fantasy

She’d been unleashed.

She’d been freed, but to him she’d gotten out of hand.

The man was suffering and Lucifer’s Angels roamed wild. They’d taken over just about everything that was once thought to be holy. Cassidy’s virginity had been smeared in the priest face. Children ran wild in the streets using foul language. Little boys and girls were no longer called students, they were called scholars by over paid academics trying to maintain a job. This is all while the old heads watched. Bertha stood tall as they took her job for disciplining a child. Mrs. Colins fell to her knees as the Mayor took her plot of land and sold it to complete strangers. Gays and lesbians were having their fun too and you could hear the impurities of sinful beast taking the souls of the pure at heart. Live satanic rituals being carried out on national television while cash strapped parents are forced to watch. Everything almost seemed to be right in Lucifer’s hands until I called on what was left of my legion of Angels. We started at the foundation and we fought Lucifer’s frontline defense by chopping off the head of Lilith. She and the Jezebel had gotten out of hand. They held the nuts of mighty prophets and warriors for too long. I resurrected Michael and Gabriel. We took on the seven headed beast and opened up God’s seal between heaven and earth. All that mushy stuff was brought to an end. The wooden paddle put some discipline back into the young student and years of being deprived of a good meal brought the rich dreamers back down to planet earth. We spread our wings in this fight. Watching the woman of the night take root, I saddled up my black horse and attacked. We took back everything, even the purist fashion brands. We even rekindled the magic on the big screen. Watching the innocent souls be rescued was enough to make us heroes. The gates of heaven were opened and the dead and Christ had risen. Heroes came from an old cloth over taking the new school with the fear of God. Legions of mystical angels putting the fear of God in a world dominated by corporate elites and old reptilian beast. Streets of gold soon followed and the great I am took back his Rainbow. Everyone fell to their knees and worshiped, for they were left with no choice. We were all living in a mythical fantasy.

That Love Jingle

Her eyes turned away from mine. At that moment I knew she no longer wanted to be with me, she’d found someone else. Accepting my losses, I began to play a love jingle, and just like old times, it was me, my dog, and my guitar. Goodbye Jane, goodbye.

The Mysterious Art Exhibit

 Here I sit 

                      God thinking

I can create 

       If the world is cursed 

I too can create spells to undo them

                Am I thinking like God

Question Mark

All honors that be

         He works through my work

I can choose to live and let live

                No need to jump

        God gave me a choice for life 

I’ll take it

Standing alone on a stage 

                  I’m like the creator

Comma

 speaking life 

What a display

          Even if I die 

comma 

               my image is still here with no fading

it’s High Definition 

HD

                    I wonder what they see

                An exhibit

shabby clothes

                         khaki pants

                                      On a canvas pad 

      On raw paper 

words of reason

                        A pure display 

              spilled problems 

    as a free Art Exhibit

        in this exhibit, I’m FrEe

I can’t see my face

                            I’m a piece of work

                    God’s

Masterpiece 

        I have to believe that

          Period.