The Irish Friend

She told me her battle with the enemy called cancer.

She told me that her life was filled with misfortune.

I told her to believe in a power greater than this world.

She smiled at me, got married and fought the good fight.

The cancer came back and she fought again.

I saw fear in this little delicate Irish friend’s eyes.

Realizing how precious life was she’d learned to appreciate the little things.

She took a picture in a field of sunflowers.

She was my Irish friend. 

We talked about simple things, and a life away from work.

Walking and spending time with our families.

We talked about letting go of the fast paced world and living simple lives in our native lands.

She was my Irish friend.

I hope she wins her battle with cancer as I do everyone trying to overcome and live more life.

Good luck I say to all of you and my Irish friend.

Good luck 🍀 

Anarchy

Some may ask, “Sir, what do you believe? What hidden hatred do you have in your heart? Can you let the past go? What do you fear the most?”

As a child raised in poverty, my civics teacher introduced me to democracy and the many different forms of world government. I got an “A” in his class, but something odd transpired shortly after. I got a taste of anarchy, no law, no form of government, but every man for himself. It started with a short walk from a fast foot restaurant while drinking a milkshake, and a conversation with some assumed to be old friends. I was a kind child, a peacemaker, but, sadly, I had to learn a valuable lesson at a very early age. A kid twice my size, who, I assumed was my friend nearly beat me to death because I put my guard down. While brutally getting kicked in the head, knocked out, I came back to life and jumped to my feet eager to fight. My eye was swollen shut, and the crowd around me laughed and I’d been basically back stabbed and left for dead. My civics lesson on anarchy began to unfold. Bloody, and tired with a half shut eye, I heard a group of grown men laughing and shouting at me because I kicked the milkshake that fell out of my hand after being attacked down the street. No one did anything, no one called the cops, no one asked if I were okay; while limping and upset, I heard an old friend continue the fight with the big kid around the corner as I walked home to get treatment for my head injury. This particular moment had to be one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. The madness did not end there, the kid, outrageously out of my weight class even came to my house to finish me off and I’d done nothing to conjure up this anger. His rage to end my life came from somewhere, and sadly, I didn’t even really know why, but he wanted to kill me. This was my childhood, never seeing much mercy. It was anarchy just about everyday and even though I got an “A” in civics class my environment left me for dead. I soon grew to comprehend this form of system because it showed me another form of living. The concept may seem unrealistic, but it still exists in many parts of the world. No police, no government, every man for himself, dying, while fighting for territory and rule. Everyday, crawling out of a dirty hole proving that only the strong survive in anarchy and justice is served with the fist. I learned my lesson in class, hands on, and now always up on guard, never knowing who’s plotting on my meal.

Anarchy 

Numb

The body grows cold, stiff, and the nerves simply fade.

While arguing a point, the voice raises, leaving the body physically and mentally drained. In the heat of the argument the heart slows down and one half of the body goes numb while depriving the brain of oxygen, a stroke results.

In the midst of being punched multiple times in the frontal portion of the head, first the legs go weak, then, BOOM! Lights out, complete darkness.

Sadly, in a life filled with hate and unfortunate results a poor soul hangs from a noose, at first you can feel the rope around your neck, then you begin to shake, and while trembling everything fades to black and, “yes,” the rope leaves a mark around the flesh that’s left dangling.

Tormented, tortured, burned, and whipped at the order of a brutal dictator can leave the body so deprived of pleasure that it goes numb of feelings and the flesh is left behind with no spirit, just proof that the world needs mercy.

Studying so hard only to dream of passing a test while the brain plays the repulsive repetition the night before over and over again until the thoughts go numb.

The miles that a person swims may look easy, but that’s not the case. Even a seasoned diver will tell you that there’s only so far the body can go underwater. The pressure and the amount of time underwater stroking and pushing before the lungs need to go up for air is like a hungry soul searching for food. Dizziness soon occurs, then, POP! Complete collapse under water.

The top of the mountain is high, the altitude is like hearing the ears popping mid flight. The climb is the biggest challenge. It’s like dangling in the depths of space freezing with no air and driving in circles at the speed of sound often pushing the brain slightly to the back of the skull causing a concussion. At the max speed and distance, the body goes numb.

Taking a massive hit in football is the equivalent of being hit by a car. Two bodies running at full speed, then, BAM! Two ram built men fall flat to the ground, lifeless, waiting for their soul to comeback down to earth.

Running out in the hot and cold weather for the greater good of the public and for God and country can leave the body pushed to the max. The freezing cold and the blistering heat can leave the skin numb and the flesh simmering. 

Standing fifty feet on top of a sinking ship left to dive into the freezing water in a split second while treading water in the Pacific Ocean is a thought that will bring anyone to their knees. Compassion is a fortune developed from witnessing suffering.

Jogging through the desert, singing cadence only to take a bullet to the cranium from a sniper, splitting the parietal area bursting through the brain leaving the nerves of the spine with no stimulation and the body numb.

Not too many people are willing to push the body to the max, collapsing in a filled arena while the max bet is reached. All of this just to feel the thrill of a win and all that’s left is a lifeless numb body free of trouble while the world moves on arguing about greatness. 

Dear lord, help me face my fear, even if it kills me, at least I didn’t go down without a fight.

Numb.

My Radio is my girlfriend

It talks to me when I’m lonely and I listen.

When my psychologist ask me if I ever feel like the radio is talking directly to me, I say, “Yes!”

I’m missing something without it.

My radio is my girlfriend, we don’t argue or fight, and when there is something on that I don’t like, I just turn the knob.

A customer came to do business one day.

He turned off my radio.

I gave him an odd look and said, “Fool, have you lost your mind? Do I go to your establishment and touch things that don’t belong to me? Touching my radio is like smacking my mother, don’t do it or we will be enemies!”

I then got up to turn my radio back on and proceeded with business.

I nearly lost my mind witnessing another man touch my woman without consent.

I had to put up a sign letting the next man in line know that,

“My radio is my girlfriend, she’s all that I have left, and only I can touch her.”

My radio is my girlfriend.

33 degrees of chaos

I sat in the crowd and watched.

Gena told me they wanted to be like him, the man who controlled everything.

All of them jumping off of their mountain of power.

I sat in the crowd and watched.

Horns dripping with black tar while they all danced around their pray drinking blue blood.

Johnny told me they’d been watching our every move.

I sat in the crowd and watched.

In the distance, I noticed a doctor handing out pain pills.

Green and blue haired dolls hanging on walls in rooms filled with weed smoke just to feel a breeze.

Suzan told me that the founders had sex with their slaves.

I sat in the crowd and watched.

Dangling from the ceiling, I noticed a black woman with blond hair with very good dialect reporting about the chaos.

Then I heard a drunk man screaming help me Lord.

Lisa told me to feed the machine because the casino owners don’t like it when you don’t play the games.

I sat in the crowd and watched.

Standing on top of a White House I noticed fireflies blinding pilots, they landed the plane on its side.

Sparks of nuclear fusion in executives drinks for diplomacy.

Nate told me that it’s the overload that trips the breaker.

I sat in the crowd and watched.

Cry Emit, mommy’s gone, pray David, the sky is falling. That rap beef is for you to eat.

Stretching my thoughts I saw 33 levels.

They reached in the crowd and asked us to climb.

Noticing everyone drowning in black tar around me I began to spin at a 360 degree angle noticing rockstars.

Dizzy, I pretended to be drunk and merry while everyone else kept partying in the chaos.

Limping and feeling lightheaded from spinning, my vision was not clear. 

My friend Moses felt obligated to save me.

That’s when I noticed a half naked woman dancing on a golden calf.

Tripping over someone, reaching for a higher level, I saw a white man and a black man with red hats on that read “up to MAGA Mania” and down to “LIBERAL  utopia” while washing the feet of a goat.

Dripping in chaos, I was no longer in the crowd because the action soon came down to my level.

Before I entered the madness, a poor man tried to sell me a food stamp card. Did he know something that I didn’t? Did the golf cart have a flat tire?

Realizing that I spent my last dime to get in the party, I noticed high ranking officials hiding under the White House, in the distance, while a very wealthy man put his stamp on everyone’s money just to figure out a treasury secret, I couldn’t help but notice an elephant hugging a polar bear while eating the flesh of a donkey.

All the while, he fed the electric machine on wheels as the builder’s son continued to entertain the crowd feasting off of their egos. 

Falling to the ground, I realized that I’d hit my head. I could hear pastors in the distance preaching the gospel of sheep’s and shepherds as I stood alone dressed in black.

Realizing that I could not move, I’d become a victim, knocked out, dreaming of rainbows.

After the chaos was over, I woke up in a hospital only to receive a medical bill that I couldn’t afford because I burned the tree of knowledge and was banned from the garden in an attempt to afford the healthcare.

Everyone thought I’d died in a world hanging flags upside down.

At that moment, I learned my lesson, and my dream of a stress free life was actually a chaotic trap that I fell into over and over again. And there I laid with no clothing on dripping in crude oil and it’s many substances. 

I graduated from 33 degrees of chaos and ran in 360 degree circles while my friends drank the punch and ate the food while watching the shows on their handheld devices. In the end they were all diagnosed with fatal diseases and a few of them jumped off of Mt. Rushmore. The rest watched me get crucified for following the rules. None of us escaped because of our birthright contracts so actually we all played our part in the union game created by scholars who also thought they had the answers to the test that were all funded by the same Department of Education. In the end, our lawsuit ended in the same court that created the death penalty and there wasn’t enough money left for us to bailout the president who pardoned us.

33 degrees of chaos.

The King who fell in love with peace

She was calm.

When he looked her in the eyes he immediately fell to one knee for he saw what war did to his children and his people.

“They’re traumatized, drugged, and they have few limbs left. The land that we called home is no more,” these were the words he spoke to his new bride.

With wings the span of ten fields she took his ring. 

“Great King, I want you to travel West for God has a plan. No King has ever surrendered everything he has to me, but you have given it all. Your castles, your palaces, and your life. For that, I will make you the greatest King of all. My sisters and brothers have prepared a room for you to watch your enemies and because you fell in love with peace we want you to watch them choose war to prove who is greater. In the end because you chose peace, God will give you generations of wealth and abundance with the power to build. Great King, everything we touch will be blessed.” At that moment the King kissed his bride and they became one for his enemies blew each other up and fell victim to war’s wrath. None of them survived.

Standing with his bride watching on top of Mt. Olive, the King’s flesh then grew weary, but his spirit and soul grew stronger. God healed everything and as he rose with strength he saw great knowledge and streets of gold. He saw life with no end. He saw heaven on Earth.

All because he was the King that fell in love with Peace. 

Happy Heart ❤️ Day, put down your weapons and fall in love with peace.

Be Mine

Here’s a gift,

As we eat at the table til death do us part,

Here are some flowers straight from my heart.

There will be many assisting us on this life long journey, but in the end we might find ourselves alone.

Even in our ambitions, some friends may become enemies and intimate relationships will fail over and over again…

Sadly, a lot of faces that began with us will not be around in the end.

Our actions we do regret, our life long lessons that we must mend. Our successes that teach us that if we fail at love we can still be friends.

Lessons while we’re out searching for what we feel we need, when honestly it’s right at home, but we’re tested the most when we’re freed.

On our quest for love, while standing in the mirror, walking through this journey called life, we learn that loneliness is a monster that even we too must fight.

We can conquer the world, but deep inside even that is never enough for it teaches us that the road to love is tough.

Be mine, and we can grow together in a world of trouble falling down like rain from the sky. Please take my offer, don’t be shy. We can rekindle the fire, handing out love tokens in our promise to stay together and never be alone.

When I’m down searching for love will you be the one to pick up the phone?

Be Mine

My Rhymes & I

A month of chocolates, presidents, and historical truths, here’s some love stories filled with rhymes and reasons, in hopes of some sunshine to change the season. A lyrical exercise for you and me from a past life filled with girls and grief.

My first girlfriend welcomed me into kindergarten, but technically we never were really together so I guess we were just friends. I ended up getting transferred to another school. Waiving goodbye, I wrote a nice rhyme as a ritual to ease the attraction. I had to move on and learn my divided fractions. 

My second girlfriend didn’t like me because I never truly committed, she got caught doing some nasty things with another guy in the seventh grade. When she took my soul I wrote a rhyme as a ritual to get it back. I still see her around town at times. The more time I spend with my rhymes the more the sun shines. Thumps up.

My third girlfriend was my high school sweetheart, I didn’t want her to waste her life serving a sailor who was pressed between life and death all of the time so I let her off easy, but she put up a fight, slippery and greasy. Seeing our relationship end because we both gave our life to serve and defend the constitution of the United States took me back to the pen and the pad. I wrote a rhyme as a ritual to get me through the war on terror. I also wrote a rhyme to help me let her go. It’s all good, I smiled at my first poetry show.

As for my next few girlfriends, I must say that once I became a citizen again and found myself in deep devotion to God and family, I married one of them which resulted in a divorce that was tragic. It’s very hard to serve God and bond with females that are not on equal paths, but lesson learned. Play with fire and get burned. At the end of the day I got over it, I wrote a rhyme as a ritual to lift me back up. My rhymes are my delight easy not tough. 

Fresh in the mix came presidents whom as a soldier I had to serve. I wrote rhymes to heal the pain of the towers falling. My rhymes are satisfying, food for my soul. Magnificent, like conquering foes.

During black history month, always in search of genuine love, I wrote rhymes that could bring people together. On a bad day, I desire a good rhyme or two. The words are like magic, they give me strength. Like power to the tenth that’s long generational length. Pure thoughts with no hemp.

To a day comes two and to life comes an eternal walk, and yes, I walked on water before testaments were written so in my rebirth I write rhymes to uplift the world. I’ve walked the earth in 360 cycles so I’m reborn to save. I raise human life straight from the grave. Dear friends and family in which I live on by name, I say that death is a con of the force that fears those who speak life. So every time you write a rhyme make sure you check it twice. Reaching into my word bag, I conclude, that my disciples are not drunks and thieves, they are those who rebuild and speak life like planting seeds. My rhymes are rituals not evil cunning spells and just like the God that’s in me I free souls from hell. So in the end as I rebirth I ask who am I? I am that I am so it’s just me my rhymes & I.

The Worker

 The moment Jan clocked back in that’s when she knew she was healthy again.

“Hey Jan, great to see you back,” Tiny said.

“You look good Jan,” Vikki, her boss said.

Jan sat down at her desk, she’d been placed off of sick leave and was now back at work.

While sitting at her computer she just didn’t feel it anymore. She’d literally almost died and saw her entire life flash before her eyes in a car accident. With all the attention on her she got up from her desk and walked out.

“Jan, where are you going? I need you to run some errands,”Vikki said getting no reply from Jan.

And that was it. Jan took everything she owned and just for a thrill she sold it all just to start her own business.

I guess that’s what happens when you have a near death experience. You’re just not afraid anymore. Jan worked for herself, she now steered her own ship.

The Worker

Af·ro·cen·tric

 Cast aside refers to a child almost eaten in the jungle by wild animals because he or she was left alone in the wilderness with no choice but to fight his or her way to safety. He or she must outsmart those in the wild only to realize another challenge lies ahead. Bred in pain, suffocating in filth after witnessing a next of kin hanging lifeless from a tree. A symbol of life reflected in return as a gift in exchange for God’s mercy. Shots fired while screaming, “Kill the medicine man!” The fight bleeds through the skin of the bright albinism white, dark mocha black or brown color of the skin tones. Tormented, burning in the woods while your children and wife watch leaves a scar with a craving to escape a rich land tainted in blood and decaying flesh. Beaten and enslaved, sold out by your own natives while rotting away stacked in a hollow sounding ship. Babies lost in the fabric of time, left with a choice by a scorned mother neglected, sexually afflicted, and left to raise her child on her own. Innocent lives are lost in the jungle and those who make it out alive are forever haunted, some choosing never to return, and some left with no choice but to suffer alone in the scraps of starvation. Men dressed in black jackets preaching abandoned dreams of a promised land while truth seekers kneel at a burning cross executed like sheep with no shepherd. Yes, people drive around these parts because even with intellect, the screams heard in the middle of the night will bring the animal out of anyone. The concealed beast, haunted and drowning in third world sorrows. Planted like a seed on a dirty sidewalk while spraying a tarantula with roach spray. The funk of sweat dripping on dirty clothes, the constant cry for hope in fractured voodoo dolls, and the reality of being left to fight your way out of the pit of hell while running for the light at the end of a very long dark tunnel as those left behind drown sinking to the bottom of the ocean. 

To conclude this piece, the fact that many generations later all forms of God’s most prized creation are now choosing to join hands instead of fight is a miracle. Today’s fist of all colors are in the fight for peace even if it means dying in internal sleep only to be awakened by those lost in a dark past flying like stars in dark space or dancing to music while walking on water spreading their wings like angels in heaven while screaming holy, holy, holy, in the presence of a roaring lion being groomed by black panthers on top of ancient pyramids. This one vision gives future optimistic visionaries a sense of hope.

Af·ro·cen·tric

Schizophrenia

As a child the teachers made us students believe in a dream of U.S. citizens holding hands in unity. As I grew older I learned the hidden truths of a flawed foundation of a nation still deeply divided. In my daily struggles I’ve come to understand why I’ve been so hard on myself. If something were to happen to me, I would like to let the next generation know that as a child I was not taught to hate, although sheltered, I rather enjoyed the company of different types of people. I also learned a lot about myself, so my message is clear. When you fall down, get up, when you fail, try again, and when you don’t fit in, stand tall by yourself. The delusion is simply, never let go of the dream of a United States. The illusion comes from a past filled with twist and turns, but I can still see the teachers and the doctors fighting on the battlefield so one poor soul like you can tell your story one day. I encourage you to dive into the history books this month and study the characters of the past. I conclude by informing you that once a small somewhat old man like me on the time clock is gone, what role will you play in shaping the world, and if called delusional how will you shape the future? I promise you that once you walk a thousand miles in a working person’s shoes, you too will be cured of your schizophrenia because a working person’s reality builds the American dream. In his or her vision, he or she sees clearly because his or her battle is the delusion that he or she will never have to work again. That in itself is a symptom of his or her disorder. If you convince yourself that you will never have to work, you’re cheating yourself out of the idea of a United States; therefore, you will fall for any lie because working is the cure. The workload is real no matter who you are.

Schizophrenia 

Optimistic

In all, I say, think positive.

A positive mindset sees the good in the world.

When it’s hard and things seem overwhelming it’s wise to train your mind to see the good in everything.

Lesson learned,

Be optimistic, friend.

The Black Mountain Top

Foolish, I was to climb alone. Betrayed, tempted and powerless, I saw people jumping off of the ship. There were millions of them. Aborted abandoned children, sick babies, and even scammers with gold crosses hanging from their necks. Afraid, I heard a voice say, “survive,” so I jumped off of the crowded ship into the water not knowing what was beneath me. I heard the screams of savages raping women as I felt myself floating. Treading water, I saw others being chased by men in white hoods. I felt myself drowning, but no one could save me but myself. In the distance, I noticed burning crosses and grown men hanging from trees. Why was I born? Am I cursed, only to tread water like a sinking elephant? Deprived of knowledge, I used my common sense and grabbed a piece of wood to float in the middle of the ocean. Quiet, I couldn’t help but notice the black mountain top on the island of truth where I found myself. Alone, I had to learn how to survive. The only thing on the island that I could see from down below was more land. The others had been traded and sold, but I jumped off of the ship and somehow survived. The only thing that I knew was the mother land, nothing else. Tired, I fell to sleep at the bottom of the black mountain hearing the cries of a future people never to know their true self. I lived the rest of my life on this island watching the merchant ships go by while hiding by the black mountain. Curious, one day a voice told me to climb and while climbing I finally reached the top and saw everything. I saw the trade, I saw the whips, and I saw reality.

 “Why was I spared?” I thought to myself.

Years had passed and I’d grown older, I’d adapted and got used to being alone. I’d climbed the black mountain a thousand times and observed the evolution of the trade. I’d watched a people that I once knew from the top of the mountain evolve into a different kind of being. On my last climb, there it was, a burning bush. Ignorant of its meaning, I sat by it to get warm because the island was cold at night. Cozy, it began to storm so I slept in a cave. I lived on this island and ate the fruits and drank the spring water from a rich black mountain for over seventy years. This mountain was all that I knew until one day a boat landed ashore with people who were evidently escaping the trade. Trying to speak to them, they couldn’t understand me, but I could tell by their clothes and lashes on their backs that they were victims of the trade. All my life I’d lived alone and I knew nothing  but the black mountain. I had to teach these people my language, I had to teach them how to climb, but most of all, I had to teach them how to survive. Eventually, we began to repopulate and would soon grow in numbers. At the age of ninety, standing with them by the black mountain, we too evolved and advanced with our own language and customs. We’d all learned how to survive and climb the black mountain together. They came to find freedom and I did the same. On my death bed, I observed what we had grown to become. I now knew why I survived, I now knew why I had to climb the black mountain over a thousand times. In the end, I did have a purpose. Me and the others would collect the messages in bottles floating on our shores, we’d expanded from one side of the island to the other. We’d grown so much that some of us lived on top of the black mountain. At the hour of my death, I comprehended one thing, and that was that only the strong survived. I survived the rough weather, I climbed the black mountain over a thousand times, I had to learn how to hunt for food, I had to learn how to grow food, I had to learn how to swim, and I had to teach the migrants who escaped to my island the same. As we grew and advanced in numbers, many of us became unsettled and we were so strong that we conquered a world that once traded us as slaves. Our greatest gift was our ability to survive. 

The Black Mountain Top