Our fears only chase us in our dreams… And so we call them nightmares, beasts of the dark that gallop along craggy shores of wasteland with no end… And us, believing we can’t escape, not realizing our captivity lives only in our brilliant minds. Yet still, we run – Chasing the freedom we’re running from. …
I am poetry. I am curves and swirls letters and words and sentences and action… I am language of both the unspoken and the talk told. I am stories and I am legend. I am writer but also reader, I am traveler and also vehicle. I am fact in all its fable, I am craft …
But I’m not ready to come down yet – and I’m not ready to launch this next rocket, either… I just need a transitional lift, one that elevates me to the space where I can’t tell up from down, and light feels heavy… Where I’m just meandering and solitude is a friend. Floating peaceably along; …
I sometimes visualize life as the spaces between raindrops that we often overlook in our haste to get out of the rain. Space is eternal, infinitesimal opportunity in its existence. We forget to realize that storms cleanse our inner lens so that the sunlight in our future shines more brilliantly. Written 19 January 2019
I don’t search for failings in people, those make themselves evident without prompting… No, what I look for are the hidden attributes that make them unique, humanly imperfect. Flaws are attractive, only in that they refuse to hide themselves from others, and so they force their owners to accept them rather than trying to change …
Hard tracks driven into gentle surfaces scratching, etching, imprinting its angst into permanent grooves that pool with spilled ink – tainted purity. We always press too hard when pulling ourselves up takes more strength than simply pushing forward, Written 18 January 2019
Wisps of soul memory
flicker through flames of indigo.
Frequencies elevate;
Echoes of wavelength
heighten the potentiality hidden
within,
that shine through persona
like the fiery hues
of my unique pigment
immersed in the sun’s rays.
Threads of old soul
lace through the fiber of my new being.
My royalty is humble,
its raiment a bejeweled aura
adorning my crown;
Upon a quiet eye without sight
opened by its own perceived vision –
my dreams never let me forget
who my ancestry was…
My state of being
thrumming with the kindred awareness
of matrilineal Nubian vibrations.
I am flavor, and color – of spice, and of fire… Me, always the epitome of my heart’s truest desires. Written 27 November 2018
I’m not myself right now,
and that’s okay…
I can’t be “normal,” or “happy”
every single day.
I mean, I could try, but then on the flip –
you’d only ask me why.
I’m not me, currently –
But I’ll be fine.
I’m just warning you
not to waste my time.
The truth is,
I’m in a bad mood.
Because I’m entitled to those,
everything can’t always be hunky-dory,
I suppose.
I guess that today
is just one of those days
where I can’t get it right
no matter what anyone says.
And I don’t really care,
that feeling just isn’t “there”…
That pretending to feel something I don’t –
I’ve never been a good liar,
so I won’t.
I won’t smile, or laugh, or joke,
because I don’t have the desire to invoke
the mirth of those around me – how can I,
When [presently] I’m not even happy?
I’m not trying to be rude,
I just need time to brood.
I guess what I’m really trying to say,
is that I’m having a bad day.
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
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