Father, poet. Much more than the keys can type.
I inhaled reality and exhaled a temporary mental vacation, dissecting stress in forms of foreign swaying trees that cooled my skin to the touch on humidity-filled days. This deep darkness that has consumed me lately has taken me out of touch with my physical. Almost remote, heading towards the Twilight Zone. Everything seemed nonsensical. The ominous clouds conveyed omniscient whispers on the path I stood. This darkness swayed my feet like I was hanging on for dear life on a human-sized pendulum. Off balance, dark thoughts pressed into me, revealing my pessimism. Why me?? My mind would obliterate all optimism, dispelling them into my mental wastebasket. A shell of myself, I would await the precipitation to no avail. When it abruptly occurs, I stand frozen, between rain drops, not wet at all. My skin doesn't recall the feeling of being drenched because this darkness has kept me shrouded in its hideous wings of shelter. The warm rays of sunlight are taken for granted as I arise each day with more deep darkness awaking my spirit with an internal alarm clock. When will it end? I couldn't answer this question as I search aimlessly for the light switch.... or the light at the end of the tunnel.
As I drifted off to sleep, I shifted my body to search comfort one last time. The darkness of the room swallowed my fading silhouette that was cast by the lonely moon. Slits of light illuminated pieces of the bed in which I lay. A sizzling noise arose suddenly. My body lied still, but my ears perked up. The sizzling noise grew more urgent as a different darkness shrouded my vision. A cold, bitter wind struck my face like an upexpected uppercut. My frightened eyes abruptly opened. Dark trees surrounded me like a large orchestra of intimidating vocalists. The sky was painted an ominous purple and black. Moving my sore feet around, pebbles scratched the bottom of them. Crickets emitted their night call. Where was I? My eyes surveyed the area. Placing my hands in front of me, I could hardly see them. Water slushed around somewhere nearby. I waded slowly across the rough ground, pain swelling at my feet. The bitter cold continuously blew wet kisses off of an unseen water. My breath seemed to push out a cloud of smoke like a smoker on his lunch break. A raspy, incoherent whisper claimed my ears. "Who's there?" My voice came out as a timid, flem-filled response. No answer. As I continued my blind movement, the trees whispered with ominous notions as if teaming up with the bitter wind to warn me of upcoming danger. Besides the current sounds, the silence was horrifying. Almost deafening. "Who's there?" My voice sounded a little more confident. A strong grip landed on my shoulder, pulling me backward. Losing balance, my back landed hard on the gravel. My breath was instantly knocked out. As I struggled to get back to my feet, the dark figure's goal was to keep me on the ground. I tried to glimpse his/her face as my perspective was from an upside down lens from my glasses. This mysterious entity was strong. Other worldly strong. The wind picked up as I continued to flail my arms helplessly. I managed to grab at what felt like a wrist. The figure ripped their hand away vehemently. My balance slipped and I slammed hard on my face, biting my upper lip. The unfamiliar taste of blood permeated throughout my mouth. The wind halted as if holding its breath. Dizzyness rode the escalator inside my head, ascending to a dangerous pinnacle. Nausea flooded my interior as the figure pulled back his fist and sent a viscious jab towards my face. Dizzyness showed two jabs as I tried to avoid one of them and got hit with the other. My heart felt like it was exploding and the after effects were catching up with the rest of my organs. I swung aimlessly, with a desperate response. It connected with what felt like the figure's jaw. The entity let out a deep yelp. I stood up with unsure balance and attempted my speed on sphagetti legs. I ran towards nowhere, gravel slowing me down like quicksand. The bitter wind pushed me back as if it wanted to see the fight resumed. Trees loomed menacingly on either side as I ran. My feet hit the water suddenly. The froth of the dark blue water lapped up to my thighs as I ran. Was the figure behind me? I tried to slip a anxious glance behind and tumbled face first into the water. The sting of inhaled water burned my nose as the figure yanked me up by my neck. I caught a glimpse of his face for the very first time. Him. His face was horribly disfigured. Scars etched every where on his face as if he practiced carving on himself for a hobby. His teeth were jagged like a shark, eyes piercing bright like mini flashlights. He glared into my soul as if trying to obliterate my genesis. His hands were fully wrapped around my neck, squeezing. A gutteral sound escaped my throat, a sound unrecognized. My feet dangled out of the dark blue water which slushed around at the figure's feet. The crescent moon was what divulged his face, emitting his true identity. As my breath continued to dissipitate, a thought entered my mind as I began to fade: the figure was never a human being in the first place. But how did I draw this conclusion? Thoughts swirled in my head as my eyes shrunk lower, vision decreasing. I thought about the bed in which I fell asleep in. Was this reality or nightmare? The wind howled as if concluding my thoughts. Blackness transitioned into nothingness as any leftover light was snuffed out.
The happiness I feel when I pick up a pencil and flow smoothly throughout the margins is magnificently inexplicable. It is a mental get-away on an invisible flight that ascends me to new heights unimagined by the normal mind. It is the reclined seats with no worries of disturbing the person behind me and if it does, so be it. Words can be a ginsu, slicing into the thinnest portions of minds that stand unprepared for its presence. Bliss revels within exuberance intertwining into a smile that emits a frozen pained expression of exhilaration. This happiness is innate. It cannot be manufactured. The pencil feels like it is apart of my anatomy as I write my observations, my emotions, my pain, my agony; my third eye becoming vulnerable through the point of the pencil. Heart pouring like the red wine that permeates its cherry aroma along with the apple cinnamon candle that burns at my tableside. I inhale the mixed scents, and exhale the fragrance of the slow sips taken prior. I am an inebriated Poet, my thoughts staggering an unstable, but beautiful script that can only be recited by my tongue. What can compare to this happiness? Nothing, as I continue to bless these margins with drunken thoughts, spewing my creative content all over the pages. "I am Eligance," I proclaim from the top of the world, shouting down at the masses of individuals who choose to listen. Open up your eardrums as my tongue will bless you in each way, giving you a taste of the mental levitation I feel each time I pick up a pencil. I can turn writer's block into a sexy poetic piece that enlightens the mind. When my eyes close, my third eye reveals a deep dive unto the ocean floor, divulging the contents for the individuals above the froth. I bleed happiness when the ink dries between these margins. It is a written orgasm that continues to thrust with consolidated impact. Inhaling my environment, I breathe out my natural emotions, whatever that may be in the moment. So you ask again apprehensively, what is happiness to me? Happiness is a state of mind when an individual can live outside the realms of reality momentarily in a created portal of the mind's eye. When it rains, it pours, so is the saying. I say, let it rain as I sit near the pane releasing my thoughts just like the droplets on the glass, cascading thoughts similar the precipitating visual. Happiness has become clear as day, even in stormy weather. As I write this, my mind moves in a poetic flow, taking me remotely away from my reality once the pencil is grasped. I foreplay with life, kissing it softly upon its nipples, exciting the clit of its opening, wetness accepting me with each thrust of my pencil, Satiating each space between those margins. As I wrote vehemently, passion implemented with each stroke, orgasmic sparks began to enunciate with each curve of the pencil between the margins. If I was placed on a cliff with that same pencil and paper, but with no parachute, my poetry would figuratively give me wings to soar above the potential perilous drop that ominously lies before me, dispelling fear of quick deadly descent. If I stared into the barrel of a gun during Russian roulette, my written word would fluctuate my thoughts past the impending click of trigger. Chamber empty or full, thoughts of bliss swirl in my head creating a new reality this world has yet to meet. Handshakes they have yet to initiate. You see, this happiness cannot be stolen, plagiarized, or duplicated. Innate in its natural form brings tears to the eyes, cascading to the lips bringing a pinch taste of sodium. If only I could lend my perspective to the depressed of soul, this would surely cleanse them inside out like a laxative, bringing them a new ingredient for the eye drop for their third eye. Rest assured, this happiness has been sparked years ago. It has been consolidated and exalted with a crown upon its head. They say there is strength in numbers, but I irreverently disagree. There is strength in confident solitude. The ability to be comfortable in one's own silence. Blocking out the world and breathing in your blemishes, excuses, weaknesses, and then exhaling rectification, implementation and reflection. As I gaze at the luminous surface of the waters with a full comprehension of my happiness when I write, I know for sure this: Nothing can stop me when I put my pencil to it.
Marriage... Not for the weak-hearted
Let's discuss Marriage. Why, you may ask? Because I know from experience that it is vital for all upcoming lovers to know exactly what they are getting themselves into. When I think of the day when I said those two confirming words right before that first kiss... There was this unknown feeling of what to expect after the bright lights, the expensive flowers were wrapped up, all the gadgets and gizmos were collected, the final picture was snapped. That feeling of being alone with my wife was the best feeling ever after everyone left, but there was that question all newlyweds will or maybe should have in their heads: What now? That "what now?" question is normal. It is one of the unexpected. Not knowing what hurdles will become obstacles in your marriage and how to jump them when they approach. What I did NOT realize about getting married was the comfort level that can slowly penetrate as the years quickly add up. The honeymoon phase can show you great heights of where you SHOULD maintain your marriage. We were in St. Lucia for our honeymoon and it was absolutely magnificent! Upon arrival, we were amiably greeted with full-strength alcoholic mixtures to give us inner solace from our long flight. Dinner for two on the beach as the sounds of the water played a soothing orchestra. A restaurant,-by chance- reserved for us with the sexy sounds of the piano as we ate and cherished that special moment. It was truly amazing. One thing about having such a great time is that when it is over, life truly begins. What I mean by great times are the ceremony from the wedding, the dancing, the pictures taken, the inebriation from each glass sipped, even the honeymoon. Newlyweds must know this. These is the most fun times in the beginning of a marriage. It can be deceiving if you are not careful. Fun doesn't equate to reality. Reality can and will trickle down in marriage. Not to say one can not be prepared, but husbands and wives must realize that love alone cannot maintain a marriage. There are nights when you will forget why you even got married for an argument that both parties will not even remember afterwards. Both parties must keep in mind that being teammates is vital and mandatory for survival and ultimate progress in marriage. Do not lose touch with the person that your significant other fell in love with. Comfort is the enemy of repetitive love actions. Continue to wine and dine each other. Don't be consumed with working a job, but instead, work on your marriage daily. Look at yourselves in the mirror and ask yourself, "what can I contribute to make our marriage better?" Remember, just because the rings are on, doesn't mean that they cannot be removed... Permanently. Marriage is not for the weak-hearted. Love isn't the factor that will keep your marriage buoy afloat. Overtime is mandatory and sometimes all you want to do is lay down under your comforter. Holidays are not a day off and time and a half monetary gains are not offered. Let's talk about the sex. Sex is mind-blowing in a rookie marriage. Add extra years to your marriage with kids who can't define privacy. If you aren't attentive, even sex can lose its spice. Be in tune with your partners sexual needs and your own. Like I said prior, This is just a service announcement to those future husbands and wives. Be aware and mindful in your marriage. Or it might be too late to recover the jewel in which you discovered when marriage was confirmed.
As the morning began, my body spilled out of the bed like the morning cup of joe that would splash the bottom of my favorite mug. The dim sunlight from the slits in the blinds peeked into my dark room, slightly illuminating the sleeping faces of my daughter in bed. She turned onto her side as I headed for the bathroom. I hated to leave her in the morning. My job as a Teacher's Assistant hardly paid the bills, but made sure to take up most of the day that I could be spending with her. My wife moaned softly as she opened her eyes and murmured, "good morning." I groggily uttered a loving reply. My days were robotically repetitive, ranging from getting up in the morning at 5:30 am, making my usual cup of joe in my thermal mug that I've had for five years, to bagging my lunch in a plastic bag before hustling to work. Getting home at late hours was normal for me. Midway attempting to lock my front door, a bird, -maybe a hawk,- skimmed the clouds. A rare appearance indeed.
Black boy joy
Unfiltered is the joy of melanin smiles in which it emits a luminous glow, synonymous with sunshine. Chocolate joy spread on by the buttery knife of innate beauty. The heavy strife from daily toil from our ancestors, the suffering, has only made our smiles all the more resilient. We enter a room black and blessed, elegant aura entailing even our shadows. We more than matter. Our whole being thrives, especially in the shaken and stirred bottle of adversity, bubbling up soulfulness for the world to be entertained. We are MORE than enjoyment, laughter, dancing, rapping, sports, poetry... the list continues to unfold for what we truly are, a rare jewel defined irreverently by foul mouths. We smile triumphantly through chaos; madness lies at our feet as we stride gracefully, through calamity, as no therapist has the answer to our 400 year wait at the starting point. Through it all, let the cliche ring unapologetically: We are black and proud.
Eyes wide open, as I see the dreadful world in which I was birthed, normalize the death of black men. Desensitization kicked in, permeating jadedness of melanin being obliterated right before our eyes..."We are human beings." That statement sheds its epidermis revealing a dull and ugly rebuttal: All lives matter. We are tired of being tired. Sick and tired of being tired. Yet as I write this, spilling my soul, I begin to erupt with vehement vigor.....BLACK LIVES MATTER! Maybe not to YOU, but the lives of the people in my family, every single one of them, beautiful and whole, THEY MATTER.
All Lives Matter
Really? Really? Really? A head has divulged its hideous face. The new confident, bigoted face of America. An orange complexion shrouds the four corners of my flat screen as I desperately search for sports center. But wait! A black face in Uncle Tom clothing rears its ugly face to me now. No safe haven to turn to… The world vehemently shouts at my black soul with odious tones, without my house doors being ajar.
Life as we know it...
What do you do when the light at the end of the tunnel shrinks as you strive tirelessly towards it? Does anxiety and fear consume your heart as the inevitable thought of starting over sneaks into your mind? Paradise mentally removes those nagging thoughts of abandonment, discouragement, and loneliness as times currently are uneasy, to say the least. The soothing, musical sounds of the waves play an orchestra of talented musicians, as the froth kisses your toes. The aroma of grilled salmon and corn on the cob, along with various delicious foods, permeates all around you. You inhale your environmental bliss, exhaling all the stress of the world. The soft winds play with the edges of your linen shorts as your significant other walks hand in hand with you, a smile as bright as a morning sun. You begin to realize how powerful the mind is in that exact moment. The way of thinking can effect one's life in every aspect, depending on how thoughts are conveyed. The embers by the fire set in the middle of the beach enunciate every syllable in their dialect. The moon is gorgeous; a silvery gaze as it reflects off those pretty brown eyes you gaze at. The warmness of her hand imitates the fire as proximity nears closer. Her kisses take away more stress from your soul, as your lips intertwine. The table divulges a large dinner that your nose revealed the correct aroma. Salmon adorns the plate, decorated fashionable by the chef, surrounded by green vegetables. Corn lies comfortably adjacent to them. Bright, red wine sits lazily in crystal wine glasses. The entire vision glows heavenly by the fire. You pull out the wooden-cushioned chair for your Queen and as you sit and inhale your surroundings, and this moon that glorifies every image during its close descent, life mentally is BEAUTIFUL.
Opaque Lens Hmmm.... My vision seems blurry as I continue on the daily rat race. The wheel spins in the same repetitive direction as I run out of breath. The pellets in my dish have lost its appeal. The wood chips that crunch underneath my steps do not provide any sensory relief; jaded from paths that is all too familiar. My lens wiped clean still remains opaque. This prior perspective was one from a hamster cage, but my lens extends beyond the confinement of a wired habitat. Mine has become so opaque, it forced me to vicariously see through eyes of a rodent. But long and behold! Suddenly, abruptly, my lens has been cleaned with life's ammonia, divulging a luminous shine. The blue skies and green grass appear 4k-like as I skip gleefully. I love this vision. Jadedness slides away like rain cascading down a slide. I am FREE. Have you checked your lens lately?
I have you in my eye's pathway, candy to my sight, sending sensitive throbs to my nerves. Yes, I indulged to no satiation, but it feels good, nevertheless. What is the eye's orgasm? I wonder this as I'm filled with deep exhilaration from your silhouette alone. I digress, as I would rather keep it PG-13 rated...