tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36198671544388955242024-03-19T01:47:05.519-07:00Welcome to Method8inc.com: Buy Stuff, Watch Stuff or Read StuffMethod8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.comBlogger1062125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-72069405784992055872024-03-18T23:08:00.000-07:002024-03-19T00:55:27.375-07:00The King of the Jews<p> I hope this message finds you brethren, I hope it cleanses your soul, and to the ignorant, I hope it enlightens you to understand that we who are true to the understanding are not fazed by your foolishness. Brethren, I am seeing God’s people constantly doing things with no fear of consequences. I too am a poor man so all I have are my words. In these uncertain times I have become humbled greatly by the stories of Christ. In these holy months I have witnessed believers tested and many of these believers stand in tall high places. In submission to my own flaws and imperfections I’ve come closer to God but I am disappointed that even believers are falling victim. In watching the tribes of Noah’s offspring pour out uncontrolled conflicts I see the suffering of our beloved savior. Brethren, this message has to seep into your consciousness because mercy for all of God’s creation is what we must comprehend in the crucifixion story. The humility of God’s unyielding power to come and walk with his creation. In seeing constant starvation, war, and conflict, who am I to be guilty of selfishness by turning and looking away while I focus on my own meal. To God I give all my praise and I am thankful for his prophets so who am I? Friends, many of us have been blinded by our own desires. I have come to pled with God by taking time to meditate and read his stories. Why would the forces of God’s knowledge leave us with the stories of pharaohs and the truth that, “yes,” God’s people come in many colors shapes and sizes. This Passover season and Ramadan I am trying to be closer to God but I don’t understand why God’s people are not humbling themselves this holy season. I am watching the Palestinian people suffer, I am watching millions of people suffer, I am even watching truth unfold about Israeli tribes and even they too are suffering. Brethren, I’m seeing a world strong in knowledge be ignorant of its own power. In my own sins, I’m begging for God’s mercy. I can’t turn away in my own will to be purified in his wisdom and power. Friends, if I have learned one thing from the story about the King of the Jews, I have learned mercy, humility, and the will to want to do the right thing. I have learned to share with my brethren, to drink water with them at the cross and to dive in the waters where John the Baptist preached about the Holy Spirit. May peace find you friends, may those who are unchanged be changed, may those struggling find peace, and may those seeking power be brought to their knees in the humility and grace of our father. In hunger, sing songs so that you may be fed by God’s spirit. In chains, sing songs so that you may be freed by the oppressor, and when the enemy comes knocking be mindful that opportunist are often blinded by their own intentions and even scientists are baffled by God’s miracles. I wrote this piece after reading a headline about millions of Palestinians suffering of hunger in constant conflicts between the children of Abraham. Realizing and comprehending a world in trouble I found praise in the story about the King of the Jews. Singing songs of praise I became fed and filled with laughter because the enemy thought he had me too. In uncontrollable laughter I came to the comprehension that the story ends with a jackass baffled by a resurrected King. A resurrected Christ. A resurrected King of the Jews. Brethren, it’s a win - win situation for “US.” The other day I saw a woman dressed in all white and turned away. If she was a virgin that was none of my business. May you find blessings in the comprehension and understanding of a resurrected King of Kings. </p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-64003533039556300862024-03-13T20:51:00.000-07:002024-03-13T20:58:31.145-07:00The Green Basketball<p> “Larry, what is this?” Jack asked.</p><p>“My dad bought it for me. It’s a green basketball,” Larry replied.</p><p>“It’s not even official weight is it?” </p><p>Larry began to get annoyed.</p><p>“Dude, it’s the same as any other ball we’ve ever played with, it’s just green.”</p><p>After several pickup games, Jack became even more frustrated because it appeared as though Larry would not miss.</p><p>“You’re a cheater, your dad did something to that ball so you don’t miss a shot,” Jack said shoving Larry from behind.</p><p>Everyone noticed the commotion and couldn’t believe how frustrated Jack was just over a pickup game.</p><p>Janice, one of Larry’s close friends, stood watching from her porch. Noticing her friend Larry in danger, she ran to break up the fight.</p><p>“Jack, stop, it’s just a game,” she explained.</p><p>“I bet every dime I had on that game and this punk cheated. His dad rigged that green ball,” Jack replied.</p><p>“That’s a lie, I just got lucky. I got hot Janice, for some reason I couldn’t miss,” Larry said, rubbing his now swollen lip.</p><p>The other kids all began to side with Jack but thank God Janice was there to mediate. </p><p>“Larry is a freak, and I’m never playing with you bums again. I knew I should’ve brought my ball,” Will said, after kicking Larry in the stomach and throwing his ball into the woods. Even Larry’s own teammates were jealous of him for making so many shots.</p><p>“What is wrong with you all? Larry are you okay?” Janice asked Larry after noticing blood coming from his mouth.</p><p>“I can’t breathe, Janice. Janice help me, I can’t breathe!”</p><p>Realizing that her friend needed emergency help the other players just left him there to die.</p><p>“He’s trash anyway,” Janice heard one of them say from a distance. </p><p>She ran into her house to call for help but it was too late, Larry suffered from a punctured lung that soon collapsed after being beaten to death by the other players.</p><p>The entire community was devastated at the loss and Larry’s dad Russel regretted ever buying his son a green ball.</p><p>After finding the ball in the woods, Janice couldn’t help but cry over the loss of her dear friend. News spread about Larry pretty fast so in his memory people all over the world began to play with green balls to honor the death of a kid with an amazing basketball spirit. He just loved the game and in the end Larry taught the world that it was just a game. His town rose his little league number 8 jersey into the city gym rafters and the world followed suit so that no kid would ever see the same fate as Larry. Every time a fight broke out in a basketball game team mascots would run onto the floor with a green ball and a green number 8 jersey.</p><p>The End.</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-63497415829578932862024-03-12T07:40:00.000-07:002024-03-12T07:41:30.705-07:00The Green Man<p>Yes, they ran when they saw me.</p><p>They screamed, then ran to safety, it never dawned on me that the world had never seen a green man.</p><p><br /></p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-91634857761476820762024-03-09T21:24:00.000-08:002024-03-09T21:24:35.009-08:00The Green Force<p>The light was green so I kept going.</p><p>Woman after woman invited me into their life and I kindly accepted the offers.</p><p>Falling from grace I felt a green force and like a little leprechaun he showed me a way out.</p><p>“Make sure she loves you for who you are lad.”</p><p>After his words, I only took arms with the woman that picked me up in the end.</p><p>The green force made me wiser, turned me into a saint.</p><p><br /></p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-2620076911374965322024-03-06T19:02:00.000-08:002024-03-06T19:02:53.816-08:00Green BloodFrom a distance it looked like a black wave. At first I thought I’d been dreaming and awoke in another world. If black was to be the color of power then I guess these people were trying to prove a point. They kept beating the war drum. In all, I became confused because they wouldn’t stop marching towards their goal. At first I thought they were human, but after I saw the front brigade get hit with a ripple of bullets I noticed that whoever these people were their blood was green. It was like I’d been trapped in a fiction fairytale. Were these the black angels that road the black horses or were these just a new fighting machine determined to defend their representative republic? Drenched in green blood it was like they were immortal. They fought their battle as though they’d been sent from God to strike fear in mortal souls who did not believe.<div>Witnesses who stood with me could not believe what we were seeing. 144,000 soldiers dressed in black bringing foolish, cunning, and demented men to their knees. The black clothed soldiers came from underneath the earth and they had green blood. I saw God’s hand in the wrath that they’d unleashed. Confused and eager to get a closer look, one of them looked me in the eyes for they only spared the righteous and I did not have a mark on me. Standing tall with them, I couldn’t help but notice that I was not delusional, this was not a human army these were black angels that bled green blood. They were preparing the way for a new beginning. Cleansing the earth for what was yet to come. Maybe a new world.</div><div><br /></div><div>Green Blood</div>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-3400687815276809772024-03-01T20:29:00.000-08:002024-03-01T20:34:48.328-08:00Green & Gold<p>I left her alone. Why did I do that? She was a gift to this world, but after seeing so many tragedies she just couldn’t take it anymore.</p><p>Starring at her picture, I became overwhelmed with grief.</p><p>God did you take her because I loved her? I could hear an inner part of my conscience telling me not to question. Alone in the room where we used to talk, I couldn’t help but marvel at the beautiful portrait that we had specially made when we got engaged. How do you die before the wedding? How do I go on? </p><p>God help me.</p><p>Shortly after tipping over in my sorrows, I found myself on the floor. A fifty year old man drowning in the loss of the love of his life. What do I live for now? </p><p>“Justin, Justin, get up. How long have you been on the floor?”</p><p>I could hear someone saying as I was slowly waking up.</p><p>“Go away!” I shout, noticing a small glare of light shining through my cracked door.</p><p>The room was pitch black. I made sure every blind was closed so I knew it had to be my sister, she’s the only one I gave a key to.</p><p>“Mom told me to check on you. Are you okay?”</p><p>I figured she didn’t hear the sad news.</p><p>“Francis is gone, Phillis. She didn’t make it through the treatments. She died while you were away.” I explained to my sister.</p><p>Reaching for my glasses, the room got silent.</p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that, I know you loved her.”</p><p>My sister and I had never talked about our relationships but I guess there’s a time for everything.</p><p>“How did she die?” Phillis asked, noticing me slowly opening up to converse more. </p><p>“She killed herself because she couldn’t take the treatments,” I replied.</p><p>Sitting there with my sister, I’d been tough all of my life, but I’d lost a lot of people dear to me. Noticing my grey hair I couldn’t fathom where I was getting the strength to carry on from because I was scarred. Even when I got back to work it wasn’t the same. When Francis died, I guess a part of me died also. I didn’t date for years and even when I tried, nothing could replace me seeing her in her green and gold nightgown the night I proposed. What I didn’t know is that while I was questioning God he was showing me things, preparing me to guide the next generation. When my students heard my story and how I didn’t give up on life it made them stronger. Everyday I came in to teach class they developed a different kind of hope. I became their role model, their family away from home. When they gave me a card with a picture of Francis in her green and gold dress, I began to understand why I had to be in my students’ life. They helped me heal and I gave them strength. I became their good luck charm, they passed every test.</p><p>Green & Gold</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-62807357679862493722024-02-27T18:16:00.000-08:002024-02-27T18:16:57.156-08:00The Prostitute<p>Friends, this piece means a lot to me. I’m a man and I love women, even the prostitutes. If this piece of literature offends you, then I recommend you educate yourself about a segment dear to the academic arena, a segment called sexual education and the darker side called sexual exploitation.</p><p>In my younger years I would laugh at a sexual joke while fantasizing about many local women dear to me. Battling with what I thought to be a sin turned out to be natural amongst men. I bring this topic up because men and women battle with sexuality but I’m just brave enough to talk about it. Some people even commit suicide because of extreme loneliness. Yes, I take pleasure in looking at naked women and if I were to lie to you I would be a coward. Yes, even as a young boy growing up in the ghettos of the world I would fantasize about every kind of woman I could think of, it’s every man’s struggle. I will not exploit too many of my inner demons nor my family’s demons but sexual desires are real. The porn industry is real. These are people who take their clothes off for the world to see and many have no shame. As I’ve grown older I’ve come to take the time to listen to these professionals talk about their industry. Many of these women are very attractive and have the power to inflict images that many of us cannot control. We’re human, but I do question the business because this is a no nonsense brutal business that is legal in some states and some parts of the world. Let me paint the picture, I have to let this out. The urge is there, a man or woman has been brutally beaten down in life and there he or she is; the prostitute, fulfilling every sexual deviant thought known to mankind at a price. Mainly women selling their self for money. Vibrating and gyrating as extreme stimulation takes over our most inner fantasies. We want it, we have to have it and nothing or anyone can stop the trance. The laws of science and every religious law cannot define the physical nor mental attraction. The ultimate stress reliever awaits, but just like everything it comes at a price. The truth is your girlfriend is an excuse, your wife is an excuse, your profession is an excuse, and lust is your curse. Guilty of our own human nature. The saddest part is dealing with the reality, many of these women are stuck in a pit and so many of their stories are the same. They have signed their entire cognitive dissonance over to a pimp. Many of these women have spent their entire lives fleeing drug infested surroundings cursed by the temptations of perverted minds. Some of these women are kidnapped and sold into the sex trade never to be rescued by a hero. Yes, I am human, and I am man enough to admit that I may have never slept with a prostitute but I see them all the time promoting their profession to the world. Yes, I do battle with my conscience perverted thoughts so I wrote this piece for the prostitute. Sweating, sitting in a room fantasizing about someone that I’ve never even met after going through so many terrible relationships in life has taught me one thing and that’s we’re all in this together. Drowning in these desires I’ve grown to listen, yield, and take the time to encourage the opposite sex. Goodbye February, I’ll end the month of American Black History and love with a little humor, maybe I’ll get lucky in March. Who knows?🍀 HaHa.</p><p>The Prostitute </p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-54018935447009573632024-02-25T20:30:00.000-08:002024-02-25T21:24:00.707-08:00The Game of Chess<p>Each player must think.</p><p>Each piece has value and some pieces are worth more than others.</p><p>There are pawns fighting on the frontlines to protect the most valuable pieces—the King & Queen.</p><p>Compared to life, people often surround themselves around people to better their position.</p><p>The suicide bomber, the police, the pastor, the president, the criminal, the teacher, the radio host, the dictator, the scam artist, the banker, the businessman, the doctors, the writers, the dentist, the fisherman, the accountant, the farmer, and even the pilot. </p><p>In this game there are losers and winners. Some people know they’re playing and some people don’t, but the key to winning is to outthink your opponent. </p><p>The most important focal point taught in the game of chess is that you cannot control the way people think, but each move will influence your opponent. What you will find is the fact that a selfish confused person that is constantly blaming or putting their trust in others often may take what they win never to shake their opponent’s hand. </p><p>What are the odds?</p><p>Out of billions of sperm wasted, how did one nut make it between the cervix, through the uterine cavity into the ovulation cycle through the ovum path busting open the conception fertilization site and it doesn’t stop there, he or she then slides through the protective shell to fertilize the ovum only to be born later to grow up sitting at a table playing chess with world players. </p><p>The point is simple, the odds of life and death are defined by so many choices, but who decides who’s born? If you make the wrong choice friend, my advice to you is be very mindful of the child that makes it to the ovum and fed through the umbilical cord—protected by the uterine muscle wall, uterine lining, uterine cavity, amnion, and amniotic cavity.</p><p>This child has a purpose and once he or she finds out his or her purpose they will find out the choices that you’ve made in his or her favor and they will decide whether you lose or win the game. These children are the pieces on the board. They invented the game by observing others then growing up to make the rules.</p><p>Good Luck finding where the other billion sperm went, they could be the forces guiding the hands.</p><p>Who’s watching us and who is selective breeding? These are the people doing anything and everything to win. They’re doing whatever it takes to increase their odds.</p><p>Good luck. 🍀 </p><p><br /></p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-81507867629495349362024-02-18T17:53:00.000-08:002024-02-24T12:53:57.056-08:00Exodus <p>Standing at the border they came in droves. Whatever they were running from had gotten out of hand. Just by the looks in their eyes, it appeared as though they were searching for an illusion that promised them everything, a policy that empowered them. Who was I only to notice women offering me their innocents and families offering to sell themselves at any price. So there I stood, in my uniform, battered and bruised for the will of the people. I’d come to the conclusion that the world is a sphere of illusions and sadly I had to uphold a law just to keep my own family fed and my people protected. Who ever was their Moses, he’d given his people an awesome dream. Exhausted, I’d become numb to a sad reality and just like the Pharaohs in Egypt I became the victim of an Exodus into my very own imaginary representative republic. They’d reached the promised land flowing with milk and honey, sadly, I was just their stepping stone. In a ball of frustration, I’d come to a sad conclusion that it was impossible for me to fix the way people thought and if I didn’t know their language, why even try? It was clear that their mind was made up and my home was their promised land.</p><p>Exodus</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-43099873278553509022024-02-14T23:07:00.000-08:002024-02-14T23:13:34.446-08:00The Casual Black History Topic<p> When observing other cultures you may notice something different in America. You may also be confused by political decisions that could lose you money and support. The sad part about black history is that these obvious cultural and detailed abnormalities are very expensive to repair and have cost some people their life. Yes, it’s clear and true that Black Americans have a rich history in the foundation of a country that may be ignorant of what actually took place and many people feel that they have too much at stake when discussing the truth. The melting pot of America is riddled with native blacks still caught in a constant struggle of survival. Black on black crime is also a factor with a language gap dehumanizing other black Americans with the N word still being used fluently. Friends, this is a touchy topic that baffles those who study criminology. Drugs have also infiltrated family progress. Many blacks have stood idle trapped in drug infested communities with little to no resources outside of the church to survive. The wealth gap and psychological damage is serious. To sum things up, what has occurred under the radar has been published by those brave enough to take a camera into the sadistic reality of America’s black communities. Some who are products of these environments seep out into the real world and are overcome by grief of the many faces that never made it to see the promised land. The promised land filled with knowledge, women, wealth, and attention. Some of these people come back and many don’t. Some of these people are scarred and traumatized by an environment that almost seems like a trap. A trap that sucks people into hate, jealousy, and the structured demise of a group of people searching for love, identity, and a place to call home. Friends, it’s okay to celebrate your heritage, it’s okay to sing songs that helped your ancestors get through the struggles and those who don’t understand that may not be open to the beauty in the ghettos or suburbs of America. They may not understand the roses that grow from torn down trees where innocent black bodies once hung. Brethren, if time has taught us anything, it has taught us to never forget that we all have a purpose. The rich need the poor, the government needs the people, and a country that fought a war to end slavery is a country with a hell of a story. Standing in the middle of political discussions I’ve learned to shut up and get back to work so that the failures of the past do not manifest in those who still may have hatred brewing in their souls. Being a product of this environment, I’ve found that I’m better when I take time to reflect on a young man who has grown and can still plant seeds for others as well. Friends, I hope this message reaches you in peace and I hope we all learn something this month, and if we learn nothing, then the lessons being taught will never be able to habilitate our grief and the bitterness that many individuals may still hold inside. </p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-90620713999342007192024-02-08T13:04:00.000-08:002024-02-08T13:04:39.777-08:00It’s not so hard knock after all <p>I’ve got Lisa, Alicia, Sa’Ryia, and Shanise, it’s not so bad after all.</p><p>I’ve got trees, the park and some grapes, it’s not so hard after all.</p><p>I’ve got a cot, a loaf of bread and some ice water, it’s not so complicated after all.</p><p>I may not have everything that I want or need and people may have figured me out, but I’ve got a love song that I’m going to drop dead singing.</p><p>I’ll sit in the back of the bus and sing my heart ❤️ out.</p><p>It’s not so hard knock after all.</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-25943755274640400272024-02-03T18:32:00.000-08:002024-02-04T18:09:53.690-08:00Lifeless Love<p>It was a long deployment and by God’s divine will and mercy my life had been spared. The war was over. Realizing that I’d lost some of my natural senses I’d become lifeless in a way. Standing on the dock alone I realized that it was February, Black History Month. To be honest I had no clue who I was. My history had been erased and in reality I was a lost and lonely soldier. From a distance I saw my people differently. They left me alone to fight for myself, but deep inside I still loved them. My family had literally been torn apart by street curses, my bloodline splattered all over the city streets. Who am I? Am I an Egyptian statue with no nose? Am I a lost Israelite with no tribe? Am I a slave only 3/5ths a citizen? Who am I? Am I a deity who returned from the underworld to save his people? Am I the N word that both colors so commonly use? Who am I? Tired and weary I found comfort in a lady standing at a bus stop.</p><p>“You made it home, how was it? I’ve always wondered how it was out there. Where are your friends and family lone sailor?” She asked.</p><p>I remained quiet while noticing that she had a drawing in her hand.</p><p>“What do you want from me? Why are you here waiting for me to answer your question? Leave me alone,” I replied.</p><p>“So you want to live your life alone?” She says.</p><p>I give her a hug and a kiss then look her in the eyes.</p><p> “I don’t know you and I’ve never met you but it’s better that way.” I explained.</p><p>She then dropped her artwork, “I need someone like you in my life. This dream I’ve held onto of fans screaming my name has been a curse. I’ve been beaten lifeless by loneliness, I need a man like you in my life.”</p><p>I turn to her as my seabag hits the deck, “Are you sure?”</p><p>She then jumps into my arms, “Yes.”</p><p>I then put her in my seabag, brace it on my back and I walk off into the sunset with her inside.</p><p>I’ve been discharged.</p><p>Lifeless Love</p><p><br /></p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-30038581453680818812024-02-01T22:10:00.000-08:002024-02-02T14:26:30.018-08:00An 8 Ball of Love<p>We’re just a speckle of dust in the darkness of space.</p><p>A human mind full of wonders trying to open up closed doors, some locked.</p><p>Who are we?</p><p>So I ask, “Are we any better than a flower or a lost dog trying to find his way home?”</p><p>I say we’re just lost creatures searching for love. Rolling 8 balls fighting, scraping, and even killing for one thing—love.</p><p>Even when we think we know, we don’t, because love is the only answer.</p><p>We need it.</p><p>We desire it.</p><p>But most of all, we crave it, and would die of a broken heart 💔 without it.</p><p>An 8 Ball of Love</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-29136721385722656662024-01-25T18:40:00.000-08:002024-01-25T18:42:11.664-08:00Old Love<p>I thought I needed Tina, but Sasha loved me more.</p><p>I thought I had to be rich, but Coco loved me when I was poor.</p><p>In deep thought I reminisce about Trina but I can’t forget about Serena.</p><p>What will become of my love spell with Rose?</p><p>She’s my old love but she keeps me on my toes.</p><p>Ashley is cute and Naomi is too.</p><p>I helped her up in the hallway when she tripped over her own shoe.</p><p>So who will it be this Valentine’s Day? I guess I’ll call up my old love just to hear what she has to say.</p><p>Old Love.</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-38940423947075411952024-01-24T12:00:00.000-08:002024-01-24T12:00:58.729-08:00Rainy Days<p>The sky is gray and the rain is falling so I paint a picture of worms crawling. </p><p>The ground is wet and as the trees sweat from the looks of it Mother Nature has made a complete mess.</p><p>Rainy Days</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-48493661000167065912024-01-21T08:52:00.000-08:002024-01-21T08:54:10.576-08:00The New OG<p>I’m the new old guy. While young, everything was brand new: The women, the money, and even the love.</p><p>I’m the new old guy.</p><p>While young, I could jump, throw, swing and dance. I’m the new old guy.</p><p>I fell out of a chair today and my kids just left me on the floor, with the little fight that I had left in me, I got up and whipped their asses one last time.</p><p>I’m the new old guy. </p><p>I still got it.</p><p>I’m the new OG.</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-61142987803549788352024-01-17T14:50:00.000-08:002024-01-17T14:50:47.343-08:00Radio Waves<p> I had just driven through one of the biggest snowstorms in the history of all Ohio. I remember it like it was yesterday, me, little old Wesley West slipping and sliding in my navy-blue Charger. To this day I have no clue how I made it into the Cleveland Radio station. I drove all the way from Youngstown Ohio. While walking into the station I noticed that the building that housed the station was in the middle of nowhere and there were some strange things going on in the studio. Signals were going in and out and headed into Black History month I knew racial tensions were pretty high, but on air you could talk about anything if that is where the topic lead you. I then heard screams coming from the elevator on my way to the restroom, it was a strange day. Realizing that I had no on-air routine before the show, I figured I'd better do something quick and that's when my phone rang. Ironically, I'd left Youngstown early in the storm and still managed to reach the station ahead of time. While hearing the voice on the other line it was my friend's ex-husband from when I used to live in a county called Columbiana. He laid it into me about some business that I'd done with his daughter and until this day I have no clue what I did wrong, but I had to end the conversation quickly because my time to go on air was running short. There I stood in the station; I had just got a divorce and my grandfather had just died, that's when I heard a blast of static and one of the engineers cursing. He quickly rushed from one hidden room to another to fix a jammed signal. It appears that he was pissed off because the show host before mine randomly didn't show up and they had to find a program to replace the dead air. I also noticed a chair literally sitting in the middle of a broken studio glass window. In the midst of the madness, I heard the program director had just fired one of the studio hands for masturbating allegations while in the studio. I also heard that the chair got thrown through the window because someone violated FCC rules and uploaded porn and foul language that played on the airwaves in an attempt to bring the station down. Apparently, the host who threw the chair got upset because he owed the station eighteen thousand dollars and they threatened to sue him if he didn't pay his bill. Headed into my studio booth, I had five minutes left before I went on the air, and I had no clue why there was a noose hanging from the ceiling of the studio across the hall. I thought it was some kind of subliminal message, but I was wrong, one of the engineers told me that they had a live taping of a rodeo exhibit earlier that day and it was actually a rope that was left behind for the host as a souvenir. I couldn't help but noticing them laughing due to the look on my face. Spooked or not, I still had to do a show. The engineer then kindly entered my booth and thanked me for coming in. I guess the radio business had been taking a huge hit and was literally fighting for its life to stay afloat and my show counted. After the conversation, in the midst of an influx of side drama that I'd been dealing with, it almost felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. That night I had to talk about literally everything that had been going on in the world through the radio waves. The lines were lighting up like crazy, and I wasn't getting paid a dime, I was feeding it all to the station. After the show, I gave my board operators some extra cash and soon realized that I too had to file for bankruptcy just to keep the radio tower up and the digital computer signals percolating. While in the food lines, dreaming of my next gig, I couldn't help but notice that even though I left that station, I didn't lose my audience. Some of them even found me and gave me a place to stay. I even got an offer from another station. I had no clue who was listening, but I guess when I thought my story didn't matter, I was wrong. In the end, we all thought the radio tower was falling, but we all picked it up together and kept the radio waves flowing. We talked about everything, and when there was nothing else to talk about, we made some stuff up. Our radio signal was so strong that aliens came down just to conversate on air with us. Spirits were literally in the studio, some from heaven and some from hell. </p><p>Radio Waves. </p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-70582168279944778932024-01-14T20:37:00.000-08:002024-01-14T20:37:36.107-08:00The Dream Thesis<p>If I were to tell you that this was it, I would be lying. How do you perceive yourself and others? What are your values? Some of us have characteristics that others may not have but friends there is another world. A world worth reaching for. A world where nothing is impossible and dreams do come true. A world that can’t exist without us. We all play a role. Black, white, and even brown. On this Martin Luther King Jr. day imagine a world where even the characters in reality must stand beside each other. The victims, the assassins, and even the investigators. A world where the spirit rises like the sun and the body elevates to a higher frequency. In this dream world we find out that all of the hatred in our hearts was for nothing. We were ignorant of our own future and enemies of our own survival. A world fixed with people joining hands and reaching for a common ground. In this thesis paper this world is all how you imagine it and the content of your character has everything to do with the magic in turning a dream into a reality. Friends, kings come and kings go, but we now live in a world where our very own individual dreams can become a reality. There is no law against dreaming, it’s a gift from God the creator and it’s yours. Dream on dreamers.</p><p>The Dream Thesis</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-72622332041976456642024-01-13T03:28:00.000-08:002024-01-13T03:33:14.828-08:00The Wealth Thesis<p> Are the ultra rich my enemy? What can I learn from people who obtain massive amounts of wealth? This Martin Luther King Jr. day I’ve come to question the poverty gap and the misunderstanding between two schools of thought. The wealthy mind set is far different from the poor mindset. A smart rich man has one flaw and that is his fear of becoming poor. Each mindset has specific characteristics, the poor man may seek comfort in understanding empathy while the rich man may always be on guard for those after his wealth. Each mindset can test the human motive. A poor man can learn how to grind to become rich while a rich man may have to teach his children certain values that he can’t because he’s not poor. Fragility and skill are also factors because to get the tools you need there has to be a fair trade and if a poor man has nothing to offer he could become a pawn on a rich man’s chessboard. Equality is the balance of power in this thesis paper. In Dr. King’s case, he sacrificed his will to live comfortably as the ultimate investment in the future. Although his battle was rough, he chose a tactic of marching and taking the beating. This was a clever tactic also used by boxers with endurance. Wear out your opponent then win in the last round by knocking him or her out. It’s a gamble because your army will have to fight without a leader in the end. In the case of Dr. King, his army literally was left with no choice because many of them were poor but in numbers they were rich. In present time, majority rule may see this and continue to wipeout their opponents, but in what I call the Jesus strategy, the poor man has a secret weapon, one key factor to defy all odds, the poor man has the spirit of “God.” His fighting in not coming from nutrients, but pure grit and hunger. He has nothing to lose and everything to gain even if he has to die for it. </p><p>The Wealth Thesis </p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-17305323098023232692024-01-11T16:51:00.000-08:002024-01-11T16:51:18.683-08:00The Labor Thesis<p> All we had left was work. We had no safety net, no savings and a few degrees that we never used. Martin Luther King Jr. day was just around the corner and the world hated us for working. We watched people literally wasting time and money while we worked on Dr. Kings’s holiday. I swear, we worked so hard that we developed a reputation around the entire city for being the only business in town under paid but over worked. Supervisors on the workroom floor began complaining to their staffs that they should be more like us. My wife and I cleaned cars, passed out flyers, ran community events, and even fed the homeless with little to no money left over for ourselves, we literally slept at our business, but together, we were happy. Together, we became the face of working class families, business owners, and the American dream. We became an inspiration to others like us. Our thesis paper was centered around our life. We’d been victims of crime and violence our entire life and became accustomed to using our time wisely; in fact, we made it a habit. Our focus was turning negative vibes and energy into something more constructive, “work.” I’m sure Martin would say, “Good job, dreamers.”</p><p>The Labor Thesis</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-87409031892211029142024-01-11T02:26:00.000-08:002024-01-11T07:17:07.879-08:00Critical Thesis<p> In America we have standards. There are consistent conspiracies that float through the air waves on a daily basis with academics that wrestle with diverse schools of thought. There are also stereotypical incidents that occur quite often. To a person aspiring to be what they often value can be tricky. A person may see Jesus as God and may never take the time to listen to someone else’s beliefs. This is no different from other faiths also, I personally was raised Christian, but in the process of becoming well read and well studied, I still have my values, but I’ve come to understand that there’s so much more for the simple mind to comprehend. One example is law. In America you will often see videos demonizing people who have a sexual sickness. To a doctor, sex is a common thing in human nature, but to a religious radical it’s a sin. In some countries men may have multiple wives with some being as young as eleven. In America you will also see people doing things that they wouldn’t do around other ethnicities. Just by watching a program a person may be susceptible to be quickly judged outside of one’s profession and when asked “What do you prefer?” a person may be confused. This is critical to a lot of people trying to keep up with the ruling class. I personally love a good joke, but sadly, some people may want to be uptight and serious so I may at times offend them. This Martin Luther King Jr. day there is the question of civility. How can one be civilized in a world that in reality is uncivilized and random? How can one be civilized when statistically a large majority of women do not feel comfortable bringing children into the world? So in deep thought let’s examine a universal thesis because logic to many is universal or unaccepted. Data shows that there’s a lot of things that occur in nature that defies logical reasoning and people do beat the odds daily. Statistics also show that we all seem to be heavy consumers of sexual or controversial topics. In present time people seem to love podcasting. Culture also seems to be a hot topic, but when looking in the mirror we can learn something about current affairs. We can also learn a lot about ourselves. We can dream and come to accept the fact that the universe and the world is filled with amazing people and things some yet to be discovered. One simple fact is that none of us are the same. We all think differently, act differently, and we all have different goals. For problem solvers this involves critical thought because how do you fix ignorance when we all are ignorant of something and the truth at times can be flawed. So while sitting in a room surrounded by books, I randomly take my clothes off and jump into a crowd of dreamers hoping that they catch me. So to conclude my thesis paper, I’ve come to accept the fact that we’re all guilty of something and the judge may construct the final verdict but in reality the real battle is with the conscience mind. While falling, I realize that I may have had better odds of the crowd catching me if I had left my clothes on or if it was dark. Therefore, I seek comfort in hope that they will catch me, but even if they let me fall, at least I had enough courage to jump.</p><p>Critical Thesis</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-8274533976824596442024-01-09T16:12:00.000-08:002024-01-09T16:12:46.287-08:00A Quiet Day<p>I shut it all off. </p><p>I sat in a quiet room and I was healed that fast.</p><p>Nothing was said, no arguments, just complete silence.</p><p>This actually helped my mental state more than anything and even though the problems were still there my ability to handle them was much better the next day.</p><p>A Quiet Day</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-16341538483555089452024-01-07T16:49:00.000-08:002024-01-07T18:50:40.707-08:001964<p>It was a year of law, a day where two fountains were painted in black and white no more.</p><p>The colors of blood flowed through the streets of a nation still trying to unify from a brutal foundation.</p><p>So many martyrs for a different kind of justice.</p><p>It was a year where the entire world became attached to the comprehension of civil rights.</p><p>Why even try when you’re out numbered, out gunned and have an entire deck of cards being dealt so that you can’t win?</p><p>A decade filled with unjust tears of a scarred past too hard to let go.</p><p>An optimist would say that the great society is what you make it.</p><p>A pessimist might say that the dream was and still is “a nightmare.”</p><p>What will you say, when asked about 1964?</p><p>In a nation founded to be united, you might be left in disbelief about how many people actually fail or don’t want to remember, and are easy to forget 1964.</p><p>60 years later, where are we headed?</p><p>Did we awake or are we still living the dream? Maybe we could be daydreaming about a decade where time actually stood idle in between two worlds. ♾️ </p><p>1964</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-37067346728511661342023-12-30T20:09:00.000-08:002023-12-30T20:09:33.297-08:002024 Late Night Fever<p> In health class the teacher got in trouble for teaching us about the buttocks and breast. In my history class Mr. Murphy took pride in teaching us all about American History, he would always tell us about the movie he got to play in after World War 2. To be honest, I don’t know what 2024 will bring, the world seems to be what it has always been, “The World!” I’ve come to learn that the unfortunate have a fine way of finding a place in society and the fortunate have a way of making sure that they too have to pay. Somehow my TV ended up on and I saw an actor that looked very attractive from the 80s. She’s probably old and grey now but once my late night fever kicks in, I’ll probably have a dream about her just like I dream about everything else. Goodbye 2023, and hello 2024, I’ll make sure I say a prayer for all of the people lost and ask the sun to give flowers to those still living. On the first sunrise of 2024, I’ll be thankful that I defied the odds and made it to see another year and be hopeful for many more. I’ve learned to fight the late night fever, it’s what the health teacher used to say, jokingly, a human has two natures, and when the second one comes out, babies are made by accident.</p><p>2024 Late night fever.</p><p>I’ll be hiding under my bed, the world is a nasty place.</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3619867154438895524.post-3406887630568566612023-12-18T17:21:00.000-08:002023-12-18T17:21:41.335-08:00The Lonely Carpenter <p>When he returned, no one knew him, and there he stood in his black robe with matching sandals.</p><p>He traveled through the underworld only to return in another life.</p><p>His mother Mary was now an alcoholic.</p><p>His friend Mary Magdalene turned into a stripper and the home where he was born was overcome by war and strife.</p><p>They needed him.</p><p>His father Joseph was on the run for not paying his taxes, and the world was all shaken up.</p><p>He’d returned, and it appeared as though no one cared. No one knew him so he began to build from the same wood that they crucified him on.</p><p>All of his disciples had moved on and the only one who remembered him was his brother James. </p><p>“You did it brother, you saved us from our sins, now live your life. I knew that you would return, your secret is safe with me. Merry Christmas,” James said handing him the keys to his temples, mansions, palaces, churches, castles, and pyramids.</p><p>“The world is yours, King of Kings, and all of the heavens too, now end the wars and give us peace, the devil is defeated.” </p><p>The Lonely Carpenter </p><p>The New Beginning </p><p>There was never an end, his death was all an illusion, he rose like the morning sun.</p><p>Seeing the stars aligned with the pyramids all power was his and Ra was now flesh and light. The Christ God. The beloved savior of mankind. The comforter and provider.</p><p>In ah, the people dropped their weapons of war and cleansed themselves in the Nile River. The heavens opened up and the dead in Christ returned,<i> for their off spring and life itself was now infinite. ♾️ For God had kept his promise and the people worshiped under an eternal sun.</i></p><p>Amen, Amun, & Amon</p><p>The Lonely Carpenter rebuilt his kingdom where it all began.</p>Method8inc.comhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01242523905366840014noreply@blogger.com0