Part two

I remember all the times I forgot flowers

That time we tried to shower

Neither of us staying clean

I’ve let you go,

The smoke of that loss

Gone before I knew….

The thing I miss most is the

caramel,

knock-me-out,

apple pie you made.

That shit was almost worth

Your crap attitude and your shit ass friend

The Hubris of Desire

A vision that blots out the rarest pigment sunsets

Or mountain landscapes

Is there truly beauty in those things,

When apparitions of divinity walk along the Earth on two legs?

Does the moon but reflect the sun?

While their intellect out shines the rise of Helios.

There’s beauty in many found things

but perhaps in a muse that finds itself.

Can vibrant, Autumn leaves

or soft, downy snow

string words together that compel

writers desire to tear their hearts out in envy?

Will a zephyr or the avian song

bring chills with notes stagnate over millions of years

or the symphony composed

from a compassionate soul

who ne’er take life’s pleasures for granted.

Is it hubris to compare one

to both earthly and celestial wonders

maybe so

but I am ever so confident that I know the right of it.

For what could be held in such regard

But the vastness of beauty in a mortal vessel.

Downfall of Serenity

What is a stage but a pedestal

They belong to life

To freedom

An actor to the stage

And I just want to play the part that’s belongs to me

I want to surround them

To pull them into me and never let go.

That would satisfy only for a moment

A split second of selfish desire

It’d bring the whole thing down around me

Isolation and freedom in ruination

That I could have just one piece of them.

What would I do just to know.

Just to understand.

Just to know their name.


Writer update March!

Things have been pratically unbearable at work and honestly the only thing that’s been getting me through is writing every night. I’m shattering my earlier records and really putting my all in this. I want to take up freelance writing I hope that’ll help me improve. I know I probably say it enough to make it cliche but I feel like I’m getting better but I won’t stop.

I have a friend that’s always trying to get better and I want to be like them. Plus they have given me a special bit of motivation. Find someone who will give you that boost that’ll fit you. It’s hard for me to get motivated by myself but knowing that I have to turn in my progress to someone who’ll praise me when I do get something right and not scold me when I don’t do it has really put the onus of progress on me.

Mechanically, the way I put my sentences together seem to be improving. I’m always listening to new stories to see how they bring things together how their dialouge work furthers their character growth and trying to understand the story structures I like. I opening up old works and trying to hone them a bit better. One day they should see the light of day. Please be paitent with me dear readers. Good luck out there!

Black Culture Month Part 2

I actually did it. I followed through and wrote a part two. Now that probably isn’t surprising for you guys but, if I’m honest my drafts are an absolute mess. I’m going to jump right in with  my next couple of pics.

This YouTube video made me consider what Blackness is as a concept. Maybe I was a bit ignorant when I considered only African Americans as Black. Black is British, French, and anywhere else our people are in the world. I was reluctant to count them amoung  because many of them seemed to be reluctant to count themselves among us. Seperating ourselves and gatekeeping really ruins our collective power in the world.

Cynthia Erivo’s self-hate tweets were classist, discriminatory, and White Supremacist. I don’t want to go over the whole thing but, it started with people getting up in arms about a Black British Woman playing the part of arguably one Black Histories greastest heroes, Harriet Tubman. Sitting there watching the movie with my mother, Super Hero Harriet Tubman was terrible. Please don’t pay to watch that movie. I’m not saying pirate it but, if you happen to find it lying around… Watch the movie, that made me question everything I knew about Mrs. Tubman and not in a good way

Now this book took me on a wild, contemporary, contemplative ride in the most urban of fantasies. With bit of plot there was cojent comentary on something to do with race, economics, immigration, you name it, if it was about the social justice of our world today then this book spoke on it, and well.

N. K. Jemsin might become one of my favorite writers, weaving in ideas that make your brain itch in the best way. The characters she gave in We Are The City Now are of viewpoints I haven’t heard yet. From an ederly, lesbian native woman, to a Middle-aged Black ex-rapper, a plus-sized, Immigrant woman and a Black, Queer sex worker expierencing homelessness. These characters were interesting in not just who they are but, in the diversity of lived expierences. It was a breath of fresh air and gives me the idea that my characters should be more distinct. I want more diverse characters in all types of fiction, so everyone can be seen.

While I don’t agree with everything that MelinaPendulum brings up in her video, I think it’s important to think critically of the things we love and for me that’s Brigerton. She speaks on the diversity, colorism, and that scene. I hope Brigerton fixes some of the problems in their next season. MelinaPendulum is great her takes are whip smart and continue to be one of the many places I go to to hear other Black people speak on pop culture.

Training school for Negro Girls scoured my soul. It was stomach churning, wild ride. Multiple times I felt a despair and defeat that was a different flavor than the one I was used to. I had to put it down many times just to make it through this collection. If this is how it feels to be a Black Woman… Then I have learned a bit of humility.

I say all of this not to deter you but, so you know what you’re getting into. This is well written and the kind of art and writing I only hope I can achieve. This work echoes with emotion and a matter-of-factness that gets to heart of what Camille Acker is trying to say. I hope if you choose to check it out you’ll have as challenging a time as I had.

There are others I haven’t gotten to but, these are some of the ones that have impacted me the most. The Black voice is beautiful and poingnant. We’re seeing it in more places and finally seeing a finally see the diversity of opininions and that we are in no way a monolith.

I might go back into more depth into some of the things I covered here. I haven’t gotten to Malcom and Marie or Black Judas yet and I know those are gonna be bomb. Maybe that’s how I’ll finish everything out.


I don’t own any of these pictures. All images hold original copyright, no copyright infringement meant.

A New Destination

What do you do when someone puts into words a fantasy you didn’t know you’d long for? I mean everything else around you is just so complicated and this seems so right your breath catches. Is this what affairs are made of. Can two unattached people have an affair?

Have you ever wanted something so much you felt guilty? Like you were somehow cheating on all your dreams, things you used to want. Now you’re typing this and you can’t forget the words they said… Were you just settling for a life you thought you wanted?

Maybe it’s a pattern for me. Is it weird that I knew I wanted to write books in elementary school when someone else wrote one? Maybe I only wanted something because I watched someone else enjoying it. While that might be how it started, I know writing was made for me. Finishing a page makes me happy in ways I didn’t know I could be. The closer I get to completing a project the better I feel about my abilities. Now if only I could finish something.

Okay readers, I hope the start of your week goes well and your tax returns come swiftly. My friend is starting a new job and I’m so proud of her. It’s just nice to see that her hard work is finally being realized in the major way it should be.

An excuse for 5 am.

I’m an early bird. I love the times at night when no one else is awake. Those are the times when I feel like the world is infinite. Like outside my window things aren’t concrete yet. Like they only settle when the sun comes up. I know that’s weird but, for me thats the perfect time to write. When there’s a halo of fantasy out that’s a perfect time. What’s yours? When are you the most productive?

The fact that my job now has me coming in at noon is the worst. Noon is the perfect time for a cat nap. When the sun comes high and bright through my window and sunlight tickles my bed. My room hits the perfect heat and I stretch out…ugh! When do you like to take naps? Can you even take naps anymore? Are there things that stop you? Take a nap. This ones on me.

I love watching movies at sunset. I know it’s weird but, the perfect time too because things aren’t so late that you’re tired and can’t focus but, it seems like you’re falling back into the fantasy you left in the morning. It’s kind of romantic in that sense. Sunset is the most romantic time to get lost in. If I could open a door to sunset any time I needed to slow down, I’d be so happy.

Are you as weird as me? Do you even think about things like this? Honestly I probably have way too much time on my hand but, maybe you’re a bit like me? Maybe you should construct your perfect day. Take advantage of the break with convention we’re all expierencing and do something for you. You deserve it. If you needed a sign to tell you to take advantage of your time today or tomorrow then this is it! Good luck, readers.

A Poem About Unfettered Benevolence

I could have written my rage on the page

Dragged you in metaphor and smilie

Damned you in with grammar

and well constructed lines

But, I’m better than that

I’m not that guy

I wouldn’t do that

I won’t write an open letter,

listing all of your faults

Or compose poetry to your misdeeds

Tearing you down in couplets

Slamming you with soliloquy

Play you like a playwright

However, I’m a benevolent master of the written word

I won’t shame you here…

just know that I could

Hey this was meant to be a kind of funny tongue and cheek thing, I hope you like it while I finish up a few of my longer blog posts and maybe even debut a short story. Hope your week goes well damn, hope my does too.

Clippings of Conversation

I still remember your “Hey”s and sighs
I recite your dreams
Sing your tears
Can’t forget your heartbeat
And cadence
But I only hear clippings of conversations

I remember my rage
My angst
Your sweet toxin
Our Warmth
Hours of my life swallowed up in perfect lips
Only loose thoughts reach out

I remember pain and loss
Moving forward
Death
Mass annihilation
Bounding betrayals
But I only have clippings of conversations

Our time blurred
I am not the same man
But I wonder would you love me
Would your kisses taste the same
Even with just clippings
I have more than you