Moments

Moments locked in time don't stay there. They come -- attached to memories, songs, poems, scents. And all at once, what once was, now is. And that's how we live. We live in the past, present and future -- at all times and points through the day. A commingling. It is how we laugh when we're sad. Forgive when we hurt. Make up when we're put out. Compromise when we're unrelenting. Life is a stage, with actors and actresses who(m) as long as they don't die off, have the potential to resurface -- either in the flesh or through memories. Through daydreams. Through nightly fears.

We CANNOT choose what to rehash, no better than we can choose what to suppress. It's not natural. It's not healthy to keep the words attached to our thoughts inside. Because even though we may feel like we're putting our best face forward, masks don't hide eyes. And they very rarely hide lips. And if we're lucky, neither will our face. Because it's called being human. It's called suffering the indelible when all else in this world, though alive, can seem as forgettable and as fake as a 50 year old fern plant.

Stolen moments resist time. Time is ever constant, ever moving. Stolen moments produce the effect of living twice at once. It is so because we breathe for the present while we think about the past. And our heart pumps blood to ensure our future, though let's not get ahead of ourselves, because the future physically is not promised, like standing buildings or parents. Or like the ceiling of the Sistine chapel. One day it will not exist, no matter how hard we try to preserve it.

Moments. Just moments. Cast ironed by fate and a lackluster determination to exist in the past, long before the past can be reasoned so. Each breath we take can be immortalized depending upon what we do during that breath. Is it just like any other? Were you jumping? Were you feeding the hungry? Were you self-absorbed? Or were you contemplating your next moment?

Thought to paper

Paper lay flat
Pen in hand
Thought in air

I position all three
To culminate
Into words here

I miss who you are
What we were
It remains there

Stuck like bees
To a honeycomb tree
More to bear

My sole to bear
I resuscitate life
As it existed

Just thoughts written
But never escaping
Like a tame kitten

Forgetting where I am
I lose conscious
To my present

Swim mental distances
Time before land
When mind indifferent

Time makes a difference
You’re so sweet
The way you come

Each visit like new
In the moment
I fall undone

No song left unsung
I whisper lyrics
Just for fun

Until the tears roll
Down my cheek
Another lesson learned

Futile as they come
20/20 hindsight
Present blind

I extract my vision
From my heart
Memories hard to find

To you I return
Served cold on platter
To a world unkind

Suicidal moments gone
I return home
To my subtle mind

Posthumous Alive

Blessed are those who know no realm of light
To blind them to death by the good hand of right
To save over the world, when the floods delivered by rain
Come swoop into the valleys and bring hell a-gain

Blessed are those who seek no realm of truth
Who sit idly by, and let themselves be lied to
Who live each day as if they have no command
Put false belief in renting and don’t own any land

Blessed are those whose family knows no good health
And won’t ever have it because they’ve accumulated no wealth
And spend 99 cents on burgers instead of fresh fruits and veggies
Can’t run without wheezing because their bodies have gotten too heavy

Blessed are those competing in a time-full race with death
Who’ve given up the fight early though they have something left
Who’ve thrown in the towel and exited the square rings
And woken up early because they hate to see dreams

For you see, I consider these types of people to be blessed
Because the pain they feel now pales to what they’ll feel at rest
I struggle with life now because I want to give it my all
Though feeling ignored, my blessings will come when I fall

And though I have come to understand I cannot change the world
I can change my behavior and illuminate my wisdom pearls
For every human being, living surely comes before dying
So while alive, I must look to heal; never be defeated; keep trying

I have a question. . .

If 2 parts of a whole has 2 separate halves, then does it make them one single piece?
If a jungle has no lions or tigers to hunt and no antelope to eat, does it matter in the least?
If a person can get full off of 7 almonds and a glass of water, does that make it a feast?
If “love thy neighbor” was “shoot thy neighbor," despite morality, would life’s existence cease?

If I knocked, knocked, knocked on Heaven’s door and God doesn’t answer, should I wait?
If I knocked, knocked, knocked on opportunity’s door with no answer, should I accept that as fate?
If I stocked my life with pillars of Love, then the Parthenon, could I make?
If I bet the devil that Love conquers all, then turned on the news, would my soul, he take?

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then how many pictures until we reach infinity?
If I cloned a white version of myself, then sent him on the other side of the world, is that equality?
If I took my time to speak, but your clock kept running, would I be missed and you come back for me?
If I swam on dirt and walked on water, would it be a miracle, or would sea be land, and land be sea?

If I took the heart of every man and every woman, would I have the world’s biggest drum?
If I took a piece of bread, and tried to feed the world, would everyone at least have a crumb?
If you take all of these questions, and read them individually, wouldn’t each sound dumb?
Truth is its questions like these that keep me alive and hopeful, with the dawning of each day’s sun.

Oppps, that wasn’t a question.

An idea. . . (rant)

This latest ESPN article has given me an idea:

http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=3228748

I'm willing to make a donation of my hard earned, taxable money to any foundation willing to set up Club ATHLETE.

What’s Club ATHLETE, you say? It'll be a club. It will have a terrific DJ, strippers, 25 bars, each of which can be for sale individually, pick-up and drop-off service from homes and hotels. Club ATHLETE will hire some of the writer's currently on strike and their sole purpose will be to create alibis.

And here's the catch: The only people who will be allowed to attend this club are Professional Football and Basketball players!

Why? Because it has been proven over and over again, that rich black people with money cannot party with poor black people with no money and guns. So if these black millionaires are so bored that they’re incapable of staying out of troublesome nightclubs, then we'll create one JUST for them and perhaps – just perhaps, these ignorant fucks who happen to represent the top 2 - 3% of income makers in the world can stop giving black people a bad name.

Can you tell that I've had it? ESPN, can you please stop reporting on this garbage? It’s not sports. And if the athletes don’t have enough common sense to keep themselves out of the eye of danger, then they don’t care about sports – so let’s do them and me a favor.

Time Taken

I can't believe it’s been over 10 years since we first met. You came dutifully into my life like Egypt’s Imhotep. Like the-little-engine-that-could's conductor, like a dry piece of bread's butter. Indeed there are many women I endear, but there could never be another.

You erode all of my sanity, like it’s a dusty, sandy shore. And while that may sound negative, to me, it couldn't mean more. You forced me to move and moreover, to learn how to deal with change. That time should be married to growth and so life should never be the same. That life will never be sane -- as long as we deal with each other. I rank your level of importance up there with my sister and my mother.

Now that's deep -- deeper than my thoughts or your angst during your menstrual cycle. I try to bring you peace, but you reject everything that I do. It’s just like a Haiku, written complete, but lacking in understandin'. It would have all been so simple if you would have let me be your man back then. But I was just a friend then as I'm just a friend now. So it didn't hurt me much when I traded my dollar bills for rupees, then British pounds.

You said you needed space, so I gave you half the world around worth. Didn't think it would take all that for your true love to be birthed. For your true love to show girth. And wrap itself around my substance. Never been a shallow dude, so it’s my heart that feels pain, hence.

It’s been a long time since we've taken time to express our feelings. I've since gotten better with words; you’ll no longer find me reeling. Back for explanations of why my emotions make me feel like less than a man. It wasn't my masculinity, it was my Love undefined that had me hurtin'. I'm in love with you! There I said it. Acknowledge. For I only speak the truth. I shouted from my pen; don't need a mountain top or roof.

To be loved, to be loved! That's what Eddie exclaimed. But I'd just be happy to know each night you think about my name. That you utter the same. And our thoughts move in rhythmic plains. It’s only in your eyes that I am looking for fame. And perhaps, a warm kiss when home, I came.

I trust these words mean something to you and will not go forsakened. So please be the one and let's stop wasting this time that we have taken.