keeping up with jones

this box of stills : losing my watch

2011-01-06T02:17:00.003-05:00

this box of stills : losing my watch
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)

the moments i get high from breathing sun dust and thick clouds
the sun's position is crowning
the opening is 7 centimeters dilated
and i've left my watch at home for a good reason
time is construct
nothing real about it
there is no minute ago
and everything that happens when this poem ends can be stacked on top of everything written before this poem became a thought
time is a concept
there is a still of me bending my knees
beneath a still of me shining
this has happened before
there's a moment that proves it beneath all this

just moments
the movements of the crowning sun
and the dilation of the beautiful opening
moments i can relive repeatedly
i just gotta throw away my watch

brooklyn aint no planet : for that girl on pluto

2011-01-03T02:48:00.002-05:00

brooklyn aint no planet : for that girl on pluto
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)

brooklyn ain't no planet
but if you stand on a rooftop where nostrand and lafayette kiss you can connect dots you never knew were there
call them constellations if you want
on a sound night you can see to the bronx and see real constellations made in steel doors if that door was never replaced
and this aint no real girl
she sleeps on pluto on my pillow on rocks so she's never comfortable
she's destined to be my demise
my left leg's clot that i really got from a great great
i've gotten as far as 1812 but still no tribe
you look like you got something to tell me
you smell like you have something to give me
something you wore that skirt for
something you didn't press your hair for
naturally you say something about me not being ready
but i've forgotten how to ride bikes
they've lied or my memory is fucked up beyond repair
and that flat tire you showed up with means we should stay in and be counterrevolutionary
remove that dress fake girl
remove that other shoulder
keep on those boots
avoid those rocks and find comfort on this mattress
this aint new york
this is brooklyn
this is that brooklyn poem i promised to always write you
just from 93 million miles away

hers. not mine.

2011-01-02T02:22:00.002-05:00

hers. not mine.
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)

she left the remains on the kitchen table beside the too thick cream of wheat hoping someone would throw it all away
who'd throw it away but her
these were her dreams
your own troubles have to be poured by you
this was benny jones she loved
the poet who said all the right things at just the right times
we can give our futures righteous names like:
god
truth
allah
wise
grow them from the umbilical
then i step in and cut them lose
but i want no responsibility for what's left on the table
i'll eat in my room until you remove it
i'll make cream of wheat at the other girl's house
she buys pills regularly
she takes pills because she loves the sound of a quiet bed every so often
and when that gets to be too much she calls me over
she sends texts about missing me
and i write back:
i miss you too
benny's dead and the poetry will stop until that table is clean
until that bowl soaks in water and dawn
until you place no blame on me

a love letter of sorts [because you sometimes need words]

2010-12-22T05:19:00.004-05:00

(photo by kwesi abbensetts)

To You : Because You Sometimes Need Words

Outside of the skyscrapers, fast life, and fucked up relationships, I was no fan of Sex and the City, but recently I sat down and watched both films. Carrie Bradshaw and John James Preston (Big) should have never gotten married. They should always be that couple that lives big, meet in the middle on the night on the Upper West Side or the Lower East to eat a crepe in the back seat of the BMW. They should always be that couple knowing marriage is for fools who need legal authorities to justify them. So there will be no more meeting like strangers in central park on park benches after weeks of not speaking just to share a sunny day. Is it all worth it?

“They’ve been through it,” says my movie mate. So I agree with a nod, a “hmph” and a sip of apple juice, and keep watching. Of course they’ve been through it. And when they emerged on the other side, they stayed together. Prior to the first film, they stayed together out of want, the greatest reason of all. “I took a vow,” is Big’s reason for staying now. Not because “I want to be here,” or “I’ll always show up because I love you now for who you are and who you’ve always been for me.”

I want a relationship very much like their relationship in the series. I want to think of you and get nervous because I’m not sure if you will call me tomorrow because you’re bored with what we have. I want to meet you on the Ludlow, just off the F Train and grab a #8 off the menu, and swear you to secrecy in regards to my favorite eatery in New York City. We’ll speak about marriage when our friends show us their rings, and call them fools on their wedding days. Then we’ll offer them shoulders when they argue and need a place to sleep.

Not because I promised God and 300 people I would, but because I want to, I will stay. We can wake up in the morning and choose to be together knowing we have the option not to. An option that would require nothing more than packing a few things and coming for the rest later. I want to.

So I can be your John James Preston and you can be my Carrie Bradshaw, but before Jennifer Hudson magically appeared, and there was a want, by you, to get married disguised as a strong need. And if that day comes when we may want to demote ourselves from phantasmagorical to extra-ordinary, we will, but only while holding onto promises to always disappear and reappear like the clichéd trains traveling in opposite directions around midnight; to always love crepes, benches and Chinese food on Sundays; to wake up afraid to open our eyes to an empty other side of the bed. Let’s always be nervous while we smile hardest, and let’s make whatever we get worth whatever we do.

Me,
Darnell Lamont Walker
"Jones"

that's life isn't it. [poem]

2010-12-11T06:06:00.001-05:00

photo by: kwesi abbensetts "no. 1"

it is not hard to love.
it is not hard to live.
life is not hard.
to square my fingers from the circle they once shaped is proving difficult.
i can not let go.
so i sit here not yet sure if i really want to.
but that's life isn't it.

no resolutions.

2010-12-06T21:01:00.008-05:00

when it's time to die - i will be the only one who can do that for me.
so when it comes to my life, i will do that for ME as well.
that makes sense to me. saddest thing is that it doesn't make sense to everyone else.

ahhh well. may you lie on your deathbed thanking god you never saw the world like you wanted in your youth.

-----

the new year is fast approaching.
no idea yet what i'll be doing to bring it in properly.
but i have a few ideas on who i want to spend it with: my friends that make life great.
the friends that, like me, live in their imagination.

so i'm titling my december 31-january 1 celebration:

NO RESOLUTIONS. JUST RESERVATIONS

we'll be eating well, drinking more, laughing harder and loving the way we live, knowing it won't end with the moon.
we'll remain in our imagination as we do now.

perhaps under the lights of vegas. and under the spell of vodka and a strong narcotic (jokes).

(side note: do not ask if you can attend. if you weren't personally asked, you weren't invited. that's the asshole in me)

-----

side note: reality shows about the pointless lives of others are for people who have absolutely nothing to brag about in their own lives.

-----

the other day 5 people (in different cities across the US) in a 10 minute period told me: "you really know how to live."
i thought i was going to die. it would have been some great irony of life, right?

but i didn't. so i'm still living.

something about me: (not sure if i've said this before)
every year i write out my own funeral plans. i don't want to die and people say "he would have wanted to be buried in a brown suit" or "he would have wanted this church" knowing damn well i don't want a church service. buy out the bar and have a memorial service. drink up!

it's not morbid. it's smart. go out the way you want to go out!

-----

my birthday is in a couple of months. i'm in the "all my friends are married and having babies" stage.
this stage is nice. it's all about renting tuxedos and getting fitted for bridesmaid dresses.
it's all about calling yourself uncle and aunt and thanking god it's not you with the crying newborn on the plane.

so i support and stand up and help raise like the village is supposed to.
and then i provide the shoulder when the divorce papers are signed or the affairs happen.

here's to this stage...
and although many of us have been losing friends to random acts of death, we are years away from the funeral program collecting stage.

so i raise my glass and celebrate life (until i'm ready to go).

-----

winter is approaching (the cold is already here) and i want to hibernate in a comfortable bed with a comfortable body.
perhaps yours.

-----

so live, folks.
98% of the people reading this wake up 5 days a week to go fulfill someone else dream.
what about your own.

the other day i tweeted: "if you don't like your job - quit"
everyone responded with "are you gonna pay my bills?"

what's got you afraid.
who made you a slave to your bills.

i understand working to support a lifestyle, but if you can only live that lifestyle 1.5 days a week, and maybe in your old age, is it worth it?

no i won't pay your bills.
fuck your bills.
live the life you want. unafraid. unchained.

-----

so i'm hungry and i'm going to eat now.
peace.

find god & stay there

2010-11-24T14:15:00.002-05:00

find god & stay there

where i live

2010-11-14T23:16:00.006-05:00

because so many of you only know me through this blog, my website and my tweets, you may not know this:
i live in my imagination. nothing there is real, and anything, at any moment, can be changed if i want.

side story (and i promise to come back to the one above):
tonight i went to cirque du soleil ovo and had a "wow" moment.
a wow moment is one of those moments when you're sitting there (or standing there, or whatever you're doing) and something makes you say "wow" loudly.
and i'm not 100% sure if it was the performers moves, and skills and talents, or if it was what was going on between the scene changes and the lighting sequences.
we reached a point in the show where ANYTHING was possible.
i was LITERALLY waiting for someone to disappear and reappear as God or something.
WOW.

back to my story:
i dream big, live big, and will always be this way. this is me.
and i'm happy 96% of the time.
that other 4% is made up of the times when:
*people eff my time and/or money up
*people come to me with their sad stories about how they don't always want to be where they are in life, but they are also unwilling to sacrifice anything to change that place

so i share my stories every chance i get, and my success to any person who has an ear and a WANT.
because like i've been saying for the past 10+ years: "i don't want a benz unless my brother can get one, too." (thanks r. shipman for that)

-----

so i offer this to those brave enough to listen and act:

in life there must always be a struggle. there must always be suffering. there will always be a defeat somewhere along the way. each of these things are inevitable. but it is always better to lose while struggling and suffering in pursuit of a dream and a goal than to lose without knowing what it is you are fighting for.

-----

i used to be a bully.
me and "sam" went through each grade together from kindergarten, and five days a week, unless he missed a day, i was making fun of his clothes, gadgets, weight, and anything else i could. a few of the best nicknames one could give a classmate were made up by me, and i was proud of that.

we had a conversation not long ago, and he told me he once tried to kill himself in high school. not completely because of me, but i was factored into the decision. i had put those years behind me, thinking graduation absolved me. what a feeling. i deeply apologized, and since, i've apologized to him, a boy i once blamed for shxtting on the toilet seat and floor in first grade, when in fact it was me with diarrhea, the 10+ dudes who were kidnapped, assaulted, held at gun point and had their homea vandalzed and broken into by me and others in college, and several other random folks.

to those i bullied:
sorry.

but i will say these last two things on the subject:

1. may the killers of bobby tillman and those who stood around watching his life disappear and did nothing but laugh and videotape it live the rest of their life with his face in their minds.

2. if anyone bullies my kid(s) i will kill them, and those who object.

-----

but yes...
i live in my head where all the beautiful things reside.
when the weather gets to be too much - i change addresses.
i make sure i have at least six "wow" moments a week, but i aim for thousands.

and each day i do something good for someone who will probably never be able to repay me.
and though there is no such thing as a selfless act, this is as close as it gets.
i LOVE my life and the imagination i've been working on since 3 years old.

R.I.P. Messy Mya. When We Book, Who We Book? EVERYBODY.

extra hours to love slow

2010-11-08T03:03:00.004-05:00

daylight saving me

2010-11-07T03:49:00.002-05:00

daylight saving me

i consciously gave up poetry today
i refused to write
after my turkey bacon i wiped ten lines of poetry from my chin and sucked a metaphor or two from my fingers
the butter from the flaky biscuits and grease from the bacon was just that good
i refused to acknowledge it as anything other than grease
because i promised i'd save the next poem for you
hang it on your wall
stick it behind a magnet and post it to your refrigerator
you can even carry it tightly in your panty liner
just take it and love it hard
mars ain't the kind of place to chill on stoops
besides there are none
don't save me no poetry
this daylight shouldn't have been saved
we were fine believing there wasn't enough time to love one another before the sun came
this extra hour is proving inconvenient
but i'll love you anyway
just slower

i felt too righteous today and was scared to write anything but my name on a signature line
they'd misunderstand me and sequal the bible and i'm not ready
and i don't need nobody writing about me and my misfortunes
and equally i want no one using my struggle as a guide for their own
so i didn't write you all day out of fear
i've only given up poetry in protest and out of love
i'm protesting something right now
or at least at the end of this one
i don't want to be anybody but we
you me
anybody but we
and in spite of my me being slightly off balance
i'ma love you anyway
just like yesterday 1968

For Colored Folks Who May Consider Boycotting Bad Films In The Future

2010-11-03T03:16:00.005-04:00

For Colored Folks Who May Consider Boycotting Bad Films In The Future
by Darnell Lamont Walker

"I loved you on purpose," cried the lady in blue.
i hated you the same way, is what I wanted to yell at the screen for this sketchy rendition of a masterpiece.
forgive this review for it's randomness, but i took notes in the dark on purple paper with black ink, so I can barely make some of it out myself.

there's a reason i've been hoping for the death of this film long before it came out. actually several, but let's start with number one:

i am an artist. it took a while for me to accept that, but that's what i am. and being an artist, i know art. FOR COLORED GIRLS WHO HAVE CONSIDERED SUICIDE WHEN THE RAINBOW IS ENUF is art. it was art when i read it in 1995, and it was art again when Teresa Dowell-Vest, one of the greatest writers and directors i know, directed the stage play in 1998. being unfortunate enough to have witnessed the many catastrophes Perry has put on screen, i didn't want this to end up in the same file cabinet.

number two:

For Colored Girls is a show about women, for women. it's about women loving women, and women loving self. "how can can misogynist, self-loathing, irresponsible filmmaker bring across the views of a womanist," i asked myself, assuming Ntozake Shange is a womanist. and what would his usual target audience (middle aged, african american women who never learned about the construction of false identities, communities, and life imitating art) think of this? "they'll love it, i know"was my answer.

What's hard for me is finding a good starting point, and how to enter this with you all. should i assume that most people have seen the stage play? or at least read it? No, I know my target audience, so i'll just start from scratch:

thin lines didn't exist in this film. the line drawn between Shange's words and Perry's cliche'd phrases and jokes could withstand a New York City subway system. when the poems/monolongues (shange's words) ended, there was an immediate shift. had the brilliant, beautiful woman sitting next to me not noticed the same thing, i'd think i was crazy. i am not crazy. we, as an entire audience, attached ourselves to Shange's words hoping they'd never end, but when they did, we sat back in our seats, slumped and frustrated at the simpleness and surface level attempts at poetry. made by the new writer.

speaking of surface level, who in the hell were these characters? thank god for the magnificent talent that made up this near-perfect cast, but they should all feel cheated. i had no allegiance to any of them. i felt nothing. i knew not where they came from nor where they were going. they could have worn sunshades throughout the whole film, and a difference would not have been made. soul-less "ghouls" created by the director, who seems to be making poor character development his signature, like Spike Lee made the stroll his.

Kimberly Elise has always been among my top five list of favorite actresses, and after seeing this film, you will know why. i can't say for sure, but I am sure the greatness of actors such as Thandie Newton, Whoopi Goldberg, Kerry Washington, Loretta Devine, Anika Noni Rose and the woman who will one day be my wife (in this life or the next) Phylicia Rashad guaranteed a quality we may not have gotten had Beyonce accepted and Mariah Carey stayed. Tessa Thompson was outstanding and Janet was a brilliant surprise, making this role one of her best portrayals of an actress, although she was merely playing the "colored" version of Meryl Streep's Miranda Priestly.

While trying to figure out how and why an untreated STD worked it's way into the film, and was never mentioned again, i counted: 1 Rape, 2 STD's, 1 Black man on the "downlow", and a partridge in a pear tree. and as much as i tried not writing this into the review, i have to: when can we have a "colored" film without the cliched downlow brother creating paranoia? while this issue does exist, i'd for once like to go to the theater to see a "colored" film without it. related: these bad black men, who failed to appear as anything other than a mention in the stage play, came to life as the the accomplices of these main women who apparently wanted to bring pain on themselves. [you have to take some of the responsibility. how much is up to you] is what, or close to what, Gilda (Rashad) told Crystal/Lady in Brown(Elise).

and the one solid brother in the film, Donald, played by Hill Harper, was in the clear with me until his wife's breakdown. she had guilt on her heart because she failed to do her job which would have prevented an ungodly tragedy. he woke up, saw her crying, and let her know that his love for her would heal her, and not to worry any longer. where would you women be without a man created by Perry? LOST!

For my own pleasure, i'd love for you all to take a look at the clearly fake tattoo work given to Beau WIllie, played by Michael Ealy, and Rose, the back alley abortionist, played by Macy Gray.

aside from maybe one too many aerial shots and the light meant for a milk-skinned white woman placed on Khalil Kain's (who played Bill) face, I give the production crew a standing ovation. out of 10, i give this film a 5.5 because Ntozake Shange's half was damn near perfect. and the .5 comes for tyler's attempts at beefing promotion while failing to mention his own RAINBOW on oprah not too long ago.

Thank You,

Darnell Lamont Walker
http://www.darnellwalker.com

Production: Lionsgate and TPS present a 34th Street Films/Lionsgate production
Cast: Janet Jackson, Loretta Devine, Michael Ealy, Kimberly Elise, Omari Hardwick, Hill Harper, Thandie Newton, Phylicia Rashad, Anika Noni Rose, Tessa Thompson, Kerry Washington, Whoopi Goldberg, Macy Gray
Director-screenwriter: Tyler Perry
Based on the play by: Ntozake Shange
Producers: Tyler Perry, Paul Hall, Roger M. Bobb
Executive producers: Ozzie Areu, Joseph P. Genier, Nzingha Stewart, Michael Paseornek
Director of photography: Alexander Gruszynski
Production designer: Ina Mayhew
Music: Aaron Zigman
Costume designer: Johnetta Boone
Editor: Maysie Hoy
Rated R, 120 minutes

fxcking trust

2010-11-02T16:09:00.002-04:00

my mama said paper brings roaches to the house
so i've always asked for plastic
i've always asked for nothing but honesty
i've always asked this of everyone
even the bag boys
double bag my shit 'cause i can't trust that

just some random writing

2010-10-21T21:09:00.002-04:00

topic one:
so i watched oprah yesterday, thanks to @echi_bon, who turned his webcam on and turned it towards the tv so i could watch it with the east coast.

now i am not here to say whether not tyler perry is a liar or not. what i am going to say is this:
much like his films, the story he gave on oprah was bits and pieces of other folks. did his father not remind us all of joe jackson. did his childhood beatings not remind us of penny from good times? did the sex life he refrained from speaking about not remind us of richard simmons?

the interview was a question away from being worse than the chris brown bowtie/larry king interview.
but what he managed to achieve was give us preface to his coming out.
so now, when he says "i'm gay" with tears, we'll (you'll) all say: well, that's because those bad men touched him.

one of my followers asked yesterday: and when he comes out, then what?
answer: his films begin holding some sort of reality - some sort of truth. he gains credibility in many circles. until then, we (i) see him like jada pinkett - unbelievable due to that SOMETHING that's hold him back.

dear tyler perry,
good job on film promotion yesterday on oprah.

-----

topic two:
that time of the year is fast approaching. you know that time of the year when we begin hearing the following:

1. 2011 is going to be my year.
2. i'm leaving all the haters in 2010 and doing me this year.
3. i'm going to do me this year. i'm tired of living for everybody else.
4. i'm gonna move to _____________ and follow my dreams. there's nothing for me in this town.

soon after that time of the year we hit this time of the year:

1. as soon as i get on my feet and pay off these bills i'm going to do everything i said i would for new year.

it may not seem like it - but i actually enjoy people who make these resolutions. because i get to look good when i succeed and they're still planning.
again, you can't hope everyone follows and achieves their dream. when that happens there will be no folks to make our fast food and clean our bathrooms.

-----

working on a few books in which i am collaborating with several folks.
if you're interested in getting your words published - and ready to be open and honest with yourself - get at me. i'm sure one of the books will have space for you.

that's it folks.

just one more song: for m.s.

2010-10-12T04:30:00.002-04:00

so we sat there. and what i really wanted to say never came to me.
i became a writer and not a speaker, and i knew it'd come to me - and this is how it was going to come to you.
i wanted to tell you about the poetry you deserve and the man i want to be when i write to you.
i wanted to look in the mirror at you looking out of the window a little bit longer.
and i wanted to tell you about the dreams i've been having, especially the re-occuring one. but none of that shit came to me.
the door closing and the stairs came to me. then the door, the bed, then the pillow.
i became an extremely happy man with a melancholy disposition.
i became the poet who wrote this to you:

-----
just one more song: for m.s.

just one more song
one more drive around the block
and this last chance to tell you everything i've been thinking about you
this one is about you more than the last one
because you are more than the last ones
the one who got away but didn't go far enough
the next time you get away i'm going with you
just one more song i promise

i've lived like this before.

2010-10-07T00:31:00.009-04:00

my deathbed bride [you have to promise] (for her - she knows)

2010-10-05T13:00:00.003-04:00

my deathbed bride [you have to promise] (for her - she knows)
(photo by: kwesi abbensetts)

i could always be this guy
i show up
i learn his moves so they aren't mimicked and you become sick of us both
i stray from possessive words and avoid conversation about your family
that's not fair to either of us
for you to think about them i mean

there are no morning after pills for the thoughts conceived after our conversation last night
so i'll just wait for these thoughts to grow and attach themselves to my food source before i decide to abort them
i dont know who i find more important
them or me
but you sometimes get higher than both of us
you leave me behind sometimes
i hope it's cool i find you

i can wait in some small room with minimal noise in case you need to call me late and whisper
or just to hear my keys typing in infinite to help you feel alive
i'm bringing back that old feeling you miss
that overwhelming desire to run naked through the house
then the fear of being caught with me kicks in
so you keep your clothes on and text me from across the room
dear god, don't let this phone get stolen

i can always be this guy to you
it ain't gotta be fair to me
you just have to promise to smile on all occasions we have together
and if i die before or after him you have to play my deathbed bride
that one who's shroud i sniff then wait for in the next life
that has to be you
because this will always be me

looking for claire

2010-10-03T15:53:00.002-04:00

looking for claire

don't wear the heels
we're too far beyond those impressions
those nerves
those nights on couches with miles between us next to the bowl of diet popcorn neither of us wanted to touch
this is the me i want to always be for the you that's growing
the poet you've always deserved
the man who sits on trains with the sunny disposition but sad suit
but there are letters in my book for you
find them next to the stubs and restaurant photos

find those old college sweats i gave you
find that six year old cologne spot on the hoodie
blow me a kiss before i turn this screen off

we ain't gotta be in love to make this happen
i'd marry you simply because i know you'll hold my hand when i hear about my soul mate dying
that ain't gotta be you
and you'd be fine with that
loving me can be tough i know
loving you is a struggle, but i've been there
to the top
and now i'm beyond it
i got the panoramic shots to prove it
imagine that
the width of the total picture captures the sun and the moon
vit's far too early for the stars

we're beyond the laughing for no apparent reason
we're putting in time this time
all laughs are genuine and all smiles have been etched flintstone-like into this brain of mine
if it doesn't fit in your pocket leave it
we'll come back for it later when we get tired of laughing and split this shit down the middle
take what's yours and consider taking me back

i'm not so far beyond it that i wouldn't come back for you
i'll always come back for you until there's a note left there asking me not to
never go outside of this panoramic
imagine the darkness
imagine this face

let's love like smart folks do
happily
comfortably excited
when i grab your hand be kind enough to touch my heart
be thoughtful
know that although the photographer caught you with your eyes closed i always remember you staring at me over those bowls of top ramen on that couch
i could have kissed you there

you know i'd wear the suit for you, right?
coordinate colors and assign seats
for you and no other reason
you know i'd be equally pleased by the lake teaching you to survive in harsh waters then pushing you in
because if you know that you know this poem was for you.

the rocket man (this boring life of mine)

2010-10-01T01:03:00.013-04:00

never should have made them lovers

2010-09-30T14:09:00.002-04:00

never should have made them lovers
(photo by: kwesi abbensetts)

I've fallen in love on trains before
But I've never been given the option to walk away first
These fucking sliding doors have set a tone in this gliding flying life of mine
i seem to always be the one going the distance
They make themselves flings
i never should have made them lovers

one of these days (for lorraine - who doesn't exist)

2010-09-30T13:45:00.006-04:00

one of these days (for lorraine - who doesn't exist)
(photo by: kwesi abbensettes)

If i had to choose a place to love you it'd be in my head
Things never leave in a timely manner there
They sit around like old ass relatives after a funeral
Something's always dying up there
It explains the smell and the flowers
Your twolips remind me of things I've put off for too long and lost
The real reason i stopped taking my blood thinners is because these fucking brain receptors carry emotions i hate too quickly through my stream
If only you can get lost there with them
One day i'll save you
One day i'll remove these rose colored shades and old life and love you where you want to be loved
Far from the only place i can offer you now
One day

empty

2010-09-27T04:17:00.005-04:00

there shouldn't be any caskets made for kids.
there shouldn't be any kids dyings.

dear america,
you fxcking owe so many people.

*me watching "god willing and da creek don't rise*

-----

this isn't going to be one of those 4am postings.
this won't be one of those postings where i pay homage to the women who've made all the wrong decisions and those attempting to get back on the right track.

this won't be one of those postings where i shed light on anything of great social import.
this is just going to be what it is: empty.

this won't be a negro slave song
or a "we shall overcome"
because i have. haven't you?

this is going to be an empty posting because that's what us so-called elitists do.

oh yes.

-----

empty. so just listen to the playlist and vibe with me.

peace.

this is about you

2010-09-20T02:13:00.002-04:00

this is about you
(photo by: kwesi abbensetts)

the architect of my dreams has been building walls, moats and fucked up bridges since pre-school days
so asking her to love me the way i want to be loved is impossible
she can't hear past her own negativity
she can't go with the flow
so we discuss walking to the river not with it
she wants to kiss the river not me
i don't blame her
she wants a man like her father's supplier
there's a chemical she's hoping i can release in that brain of hers
this time i thought about complimenting that brain of hers
but instead we wait on virgin soil for the bulldozers her designs call for
she's left me out here on this square earth alone
forced
the architect designed nothing more than a house with no windows suitable for no one but me
i'm sure it's beautiful but once inside i can't see anything but what she's painted in white on the mat that sits by the doorway
happiness cannot only exist there and in her wanting to build

life is like the cosby show:

2010-09-15T16:10:00.006-04:00

i typed this all on my phone at 3am - so ignore the loss of my train of thought.

so life is like the cosby show: there's a lesson to learn every day. (i made that up).

lesson one:
i relied on too many people this past weekend. i've been called a fool several times for allowing folks to start the maze with my trust and respect. "they should earn it," my people say. but eff that - they begin with it. the only way is down.

i hired a team of filmmakers to shoot my film. their hunger and creativity is why i hired them. saturday, the day before my shoot, i got an electronic message from the team saying they couldn't make it sunday do to equipment scheduling conflicts. (sigh).

i relied on friends and folks i believed were equally hungry to come thru and let their light shine. they didn't come. only those starving and a few well-fed folks came.

lesson learned in #1: too many people claim to be hungry. before feeding the children i'll need to see their ribs.

------

lesson two: i (we) are not responsible for the emotions of others.

i complete me. complements are optional and welcomed - but not needed.
------

side note one: i want to be so deep in love that when i die - people do not mourn me - they mourn the heart of the one i leave behind because they know how it has now shattered.

------

where you disappear to, son? maintaining.
i've always found it funny that - where i'm from - when folks go missing for a long period of time it's either jail or death came to claim the body. it's never to regroup, destroy/rebuild, maintain.

i'm disappearing soon. oh so very soon. i gotta maintain. i gotta make sure my screws are tight (almost at the point of stripping the grip). i gotta make sure those who want to enter the ring on my side spent their days sparring against those bigger than themselves.

------

i'm on the queens-bound E train headed to JFK. not to disappear but to hit vegas and do what i do best: bring smiles & memories.

the people i know say i travel too much. they say i dream too big. they don't understand why i'm not the one standing at alters or the loan officer's desk asking him to help me buy a house.

instead - i'm at the american airline counter with a backpack, a thermal top and bags under my eyes trying to figure out how i left my toothbrush. i'm happy.

when i am on my deathbed, it won't be the house and comforts and things i settled for that make me smile. it will be the yellow lines down the middle of the highway - the millions of times i've said "they look like ants down there" - the booze - the thousands of letters written on nights i didn't think i'd live through - and the kids i hoped would love like me.

yeah - fuck your house.

------

i had a conversation with a beautiful woman who can't cook. "your mom had hopes you'd marry a banker who'd take care of you," i said. then she said "that's boring." i agreed. i told her about the poems, and artwork and songs that should be dedicated to her. she deserves spontaneity. so i'm about to teach her to cook & swim & live like me.

maybe one day she'll fall in love with a man like me and remember why.

-----

and now i am at gate 44 - tired. so i am going to explore these dreams soon.

peace.

2010-09-10T03:04:00.002-04:00

i'm losing this tight grip i once had on reality.
my dreams don't seem so phony anymore. i pulling things out of them: anxiety, fright and new found fears.
what the hell is going on?

i'm fucking losing my mind here and the only people left to talk to lost theirs some years back.
this is a true fucking story.
i know it's true because it's past three but before seven.

fuck it.
but this is not a suicide note.
i won't even let people know this exists.

i never touched her heart : poem eight

2010-09-01T22:39:00.003-04:00

i never touched her heart : poem eight
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)

i placed every finger except my pinky in places her mama told her to keep from boys
and put my head in places her mama told her to put powder on
i didn't want her to feel loved by me
we both believe in truths
no one could love another in this life
on this planet
not today my textbook and calendars says
i needed her to be touched
i need her to understand me by what this calendar says is tomorrow
she loves the computer coded me
the winter coated me
she aint yet met summer
not with me
but she's waiting and hoping he's different
me too
the ones after this coded coated me are all different
they convince them i lied then occupy space on their fingers
a leash on their left hand
it was only right that they left
they're good women for leaving
i've never learned the art of blaming properly thanks to doreen walker who became doreen wells and blamed my real father quietly

i saved space on her left pulsating chest
and into that space every follower poured themselves fingertips first - reciprocating
and that's all she ever really wanted

crazy beautiful : poem seven

2010-08-29T23:43:00.002-04:00

crazy beautiful : poem seven
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)

she's the crazy beautifull
the "i understand why niggas get killed over chicks" type broad
ponytail and sandals
and a flatbush attitude
she's crazy
the "i must look crazy for staring at her like this" type crazy beautiful
i want to write movies about her
cast no names
cause aint no actress as fine as she is right now
where she going?
let's share a stop beautiful
read my thoughts and prove your powers

she'll get off downtown brooklyn and meet up with some nigga that aint been shit since his friends left him for college
they'll talk about his mixtape over a pepsi and she'll tell him how much she supports him
franklin ave.
bye

fuck crayola - they lie : poem six

2010-08-29T23:36:00.003-04:00

fuck crayola - they lie (to the man on the train and the woman beside him)
(photo by kwesi abbensetts)

there's a white man sitting across from me
he don't see me though
he don't see color
i am color
i am that blue coming out of the shitting end of miles' trumpet
he knows why coltrane heard voices we never knew about
the reason he played with his back to the audience
coltrane - not the white man

she could play the wife
he look at her
and they exit

that week she hated: poem five

2010-08-15T20:49:00.004-04:00

photo by: kwesi abbensetts

that week she hated
poem five

she will never understand the importance of the happenings between her upper thighs
he has no clue how to teach her
after all it's none of his business
just an interest
a pass time
some girl that smelled of roti and callaloo and grown woman's dresser scents
some girl he'd love for three weeks at a time
and it all becomes biblical again
when i see the blood
i will pass you over

let's go to ireland (for jean-michel): poem four

2010-08-15T20:38:00.003-04:00

photo by: kwesi abbensetts

let's go to ireland (for jean-michel)
poem four

he was painted on
basquiat like on crutches
so fuck hawaii

this time : poem three

2010-08-13T17:14:00.003-04:00

photo by: kwesi abbensetts

this time (dedicated to time & maha who've split i think)
poem three

save a little for me shorty
save me short
the most romantic thing i've ever seen was when he ran across the basketball court after he killed the joint and blew it into her mouth
he promised he wouldn't leave earth without her
somewhere among the dippers and footprints left behind by the lies the government told they still smile and laugh at shit they can't control
it was a promise he gave her
not a 'if it's possible' or 'maybe i can'
he deflated his lungs and breathed 16 seconds into hers
this was short
this was them this time
this time

the blacker: poem two

2010-08-12T17:23:00.002-04:00

photo by kwesi abbensetts (photo of @intelligentsias)

the blacker
poem two

who said prayer required prostration
the things she wishes for when her eyes are closed are no different than those she laughs about peddling down flatbush
sitting on a stoop holding onto candy wrappers and atm receipts
please remain quiet as she builds a city of god on the blacker side of her eyelids

building something : poem one

2010-08-11T18:33:00.002-04:00

photo by: kwesi abbensetts

building something
poem one

i left pieces of my skin on the old wooden boards
and a little blood on the bricks
don't ever build a box for me again
don't stare at me
don't paint me and frame me
if you must do it
paint me on a passing wind
an ebb
a flow
a freestyle a beat a fourth verse in hip hop
but only if you must

on the eve of...

2010-08-10T22:15:00.003-04:00

ramadan kareem!

well...not yet...but in a few hours, right?
so how should we celebrate?

i guess like the rest of those who will be celebrating.
you down to join me on this fasting mission?
i mean, really, why not? except for that fact that you can put down a ham sandwich quicker than precious' mom, mary.

from august 11 - september 10 you can regain focus on your goals, thoughts, dreams, past accomplishments. perhaps even bring some sort of calm to your life.
say whaaaaaat?!
fasting can do all that, you ask.
yeah.

ramadan fasting is from sunup to sundown. NO food, NO drink, NOTHING going in that's wet or edible and/or isn't life saving. you'll be hungry and thirsty - but you won't die. i promise. what i'm proposing we fast from outside of the sunup-sundown ritual...[feel free to follow me. or feel free to just keep up]:

-foods we know aren't good for us.
-sex [with others and with self] O.o
-ignorance.
-friends who aren't good for us.

let's begin at midnight, shall we.

let me know if you're with me, and maybe we can start a blog or something to keep track for the fun of it.

------

to aid me in the process i'll be doing another poetry challenge.
i hope you enjoy.

again - we begin at midnight.
let's go.

round of applause

2010-08-08T21:00:00.005-04:00

*round of applause*

no matter how many people applaud at the opening and closing of the curtain - that one absence will make everything feel so empty. "what's a star when his most important fan is missing."

last week two of my three accepted plays premiered in the first annual DC Black Theater Festival.
tuesday night we showcased "trip the light poetic"
the crowd appreciated talent - listened to the message - and we walked away with Best Drama.

thanks: tamieka chavis, fieven brehana, alain duroseau, reginald richard, deirdra cherokee taylor, moyston henry, jade andwele, anthony anderson for your hard work, and for helping me turn goals into achievements.

wednesday night - we showcased "all the things you'd be by now if tyler perry's wife was your mother." and although the crowd was made up of tyler perry's target audience, i think they understood the message. they applauded out of default and we didn't win that battle - but it was great nonetheless.

and in cliché i say: it was good to be a part of the event, no matter how it turned out, the circumstances or situations that occurred. it was good to be well-received. we made history. thank you.

-----

and a real quick "fxck you" to every song that makes us think of our exes and those good times.
those songs that make us think "maybe getting back together wouldnt be that bad"

and "thank you" to those memories that negate all that!

-----

there are millions of people afraid of the dark.
the funny thing is: those same people continue to walk in the shadows, treading.
and when it goes completely black they cry.

here i am to tell them: stop crying, idiots.

#endofstory

-----

and now i'm back in new york city.
i've never understood those who've said "i hate new york" - until recently analyzing it.
new york pushes you to succeed. there are those who don't want to succeed.
new york exposes your flaws and weaknesses. there are those who are afraid to have those things exposed for the world to see.
new york is an ocean - compared to the small towns, countries and cities many come from. being a small or average size fish in an ocean is nothing. you become food. the bottom of the food chain. who wants to be there?

i do. i love it. i survive.
most don't.

-----

destiny and fate have a lot to do with it all - but so do we. because it's us who must persevere - not fate or destiny. and waiting is a horrible use of time.

years ago i taught myself how to cut off my own thumb. not literally. but figuratively.
in order to save the rest of the hand, it must be done.
you should do the same.

-----

so let's roll on the floor laughing this sunday in preparation for monday:

some sort of calm.

2010-08-01T11:25:00.010-04:00

"my life is getting too wild - i need to bring some sort of calm to it." -jay z.

it's beginning to feel like the fall or 2002 all over again. around the time blueprint 2: the gift and the curse dropped.
the difference this time is this: i decide, and only me, what gets sacrificed and what doesn't.
i'm losing friends. the summer has been too busy for me to get any conditioning in, so i'm in no position to fight for them to stay.

perhaps in the fall if it's not too late.
as far as friendships go, this past year has been giving me too many 40 degree days. in the words of stringer bell:

"That's like a 40-degree day. Ain't nobody got nothing to say about a 40-degree day. Fifty. Bring a smile to your face. Sixty, shit, niggas is damn near barbecuing on that motherfucker. Go down to 20, niggas get their bitch on. Get their blood complaining. But forty? Nobody give a fuck about 40. Nobody remember 40."

i'm working on taking it up to 80 at least. i love 80 degree days with no humidity.

can i share this day with you?

-----

two days away from opening night of my one-act play: TRIP THE LIGHT POETIC.
three days from: ALL THE THINGS YOU'D BE BY NOW IF TYLER PERRY'S WIFE WAS YOUR MOTHER.

and i'm not yet hype about it all.
but i hope to be.

many of my 80 degree day friends are coming.
we'll sit in the sun and enjoy the shades.
that type shxt.

-----

eff your clichés: eat the gatdamn cake.

-----

and i'm not going to call it an epiphany or revelation.
i've always wanted to profess.
stand before a group of young people and tell them about the world and how it should be seen.
help them break their eyes & minds open and begin to see and think differently.

"Who made up these schools, I say
Who made up these rules, I say"
-lauryn hill

if you're not going to teach the kids - don't complain about how they turn out.

so...back on track:
i think i'll become a professor sooner than planned. i was gonna wait until around 35 - grow a gray patch of hair, and wear loose fitting clothes & a dashiki every now and then and speak about revolution being impossible without bloodshed.

i have a theory that you can only catch the young ones at two stages in their life and be able to make a serious impact:
elementary school & college.

the brain of an elementary school student is fresh and new.
the brain of a college student is ready to accept things brand new and consider them. both are ready to make some huge impact on the world that may or may not ever come. but they will at least make a change on their own hardwood or carpeted floors.

-----

let's talk about ~~sex, drugs, hiphop~~ friends for a second:
everyday i read a facebook status message - twitter update or some bullshxt that goes:

"blah blah blah fake ass friends blah blah blah bitches blah blah blah loyalty"

aside from my belief that females can't really be friends for too long, i think most people are conditioned to find wack ass friends.
not directly taught this - but taught to live in boxes, thereby putting their friends in one - or selecting friends that won't tear their box sides down.

no no no. choose friends wisely.
choose the friends that will support you.
choose the friends that will show up at show openings and curtain closings.
choose the friends that get your mom's number just in case some shit goes down 'cause they know she's your emergency contact.
choose the friends who will answer when you call.

-----

and i want to keep from boring you. enjoy the pictures from my yesterday & your 80 degree day...peace:

writing love letters & fucking with regrets

2010-07-23T11:29:00.009-04:00

please don't let me be misunderstood.

fxck fxck fxck: waking up at 6:40am five days a week is for the birds.
i'm used to making it home at 7:00am and sleeping til the hustle woke me up.

but it's cool. being an advocate for education is what pushes me not to hit the 'dismiss' button - then hit the pillow again.
i'm teaching writing to a group of children in virginia. i kinda love it. what writer wouldn't want to inspire the next generation (or generation after next) to write?

but i guess the issue comes in when half of them hate writing.
damn you, parents. damn you.

i have been getting on to this silly band craze, though.
so now i keep a bag of jolly ranchers on me to trade the children for some strangely shaped plastic bracelet.
yeah yeah yeah - so what? i hustle kids. lol.

i remember my professor told me one that i should never teach.
1. because i was crazy as hell and a class clown!
2. because i'd get a student who was just like me - and i'd want to choke the shit out of him.

well, i have that student. and if i wasn't getting paid for this gig - i'd choke the shit out of him.
but i'm righteously educating him, and attempting to help him win the heart of this girl he seems to be so in love with.
i don't want him to lose like i did with miranda and angelique.

-----

working with crumb snatchers brings a lot into view.
you see you have more regrets in life than you thought you had.

there's plenty i'd go back and change:
-i wouldn't have wanted the fubu jersey so much.
-i wouldn't have lost my virginity to that girl - in that place - and that quick.
-i would have told miranda james i loved her in first grade & angelique barbour in 5th grade.
-i would have kept my boy out of jail on that first charge and we would still be in touch.
-i would have gone a step further with that racial incident that happened in daytona. actually ALL the racial incidents that happened in daytona.

there are a few poems i wouldn't have written for that girl in college & a video i never would have made.
hell, i would never have placed the camera in front of my bed at 357 rose ave.

but it's back there & i'm cool with that. because i learned a long time ago - a life not full of regret is a life not worth living.

-----

random side note: the left brains never understand the right brains.

-----

so mel gibson has been cussing out his baby mama (hmmm)...
and lebron has gone to miami (imagine my face not really making an expression of concern)

and the sun is hot still.

i guess i say all that to say: who really gives a shit?
apparently the cleveland folks are pissed and tearing shit apart because lebron's leaving. if basketball has become that serious in your life - you should just open your veins and bleed freely.

and while i do find mel gibson hilariously racist and ignorant - his verbal threats don't cause me to defecate daily.
so i move on.

------

oh!
finally season two of the award winning "ANACOSTIA the series" has wrapped.
(applause)

yep...me...acting.
so if you kept up with the first season, you should know who Julian is.
well, he's baaaaaaaack!
and shxt is going down!

quick info:
-written & directed by anthony anderson
-catch in on DCTV-50 & on the web

and just so there won't be any major surprises for those of you coming in on season two:
julian is sean's boyfriend.
yes, he's gay.

===
short interview by a fan who wishes to remain nameless:

Fan: are you excited about season two of "anacostia the series?"

Me: very excited, actually. i've acted before, but this is different. this is a great television show with a great cast, and i'm glad to be among them. and the world gets to check me out.

Fan: that's great. so tell us about your character.

Me: well, i play Julian. they thought he was dead, but lo and behold...he's back, and ready to start where he left off, but as we all know, life doesn't work that way. he learns that pretty quickly when sean isn't as receptive as he had hoped.

Fan: speaking of sean, does it make you nervous to play a gay character - or how do you feel about it? and what reaction do you think you'll get?

Me: no, it doesn't make me nervous. first, i think to be an actor you must be an actor, and look past the bullshit and get to the good shit. secondly, if you've been keeping up with me on the blog, twitter or facebook or real life, you know i don't care what's said, thought, or perceived negatively. my character is void of stereotypes, as is everyone else character, and the content was great, so i accepted the role, and did my best.

Fan: answer the reaction question.

Me: oh shit. um...i know my friends will have jokes for years to come, but i hope overall it's a great reaction.

Fan: what's next for you, sir?

Me: taking over creativity, then the world. showcasing my stage plays next month, shooting a film as well in august, and planning a few things with a few great folks and smiling during it all.

Fan: WONDERFUL.
=====

catch me with other great actors such as:

chanté bowser
tamieka chavis
wil 'onix' lash
rabon hutcherson III
kena hodges
anthony anderson
marion akpan
and soooo many others!

so tune in and support.
it's greatly appreciated.

-----

the DC Black Theater Festival accepted each of my entries to be performed during their week-long showcase of amazing talent. unfortunately, i will only be doing two of them because of timing.

but i'm still hype about it & i hope you all get to come and be hype with me.
@antneya says i'm way too modest and i should start speaking about my work more.

i hustle hard - and i achieve - but many don't know that side of me.
i downplay myself sometimes, and i really shouldn't.

so a quick thing about me:
i'm the sh*t in real life.
not only am i well educated (house & field ni**a style) - but i look great on paper everywhere else.
i hustle harder than 90% of the people i know - and trying to learn how the other 10% do it.
my left brain is huge and growing. i feed it, and condition it in the winter and summer.

okay - enough about me:

the plays:

Trip The Light Poetic: a one-act stage play based on several poems written by darnell lamont walker. step onto the spaceship & explore the dark alleys and backstreets where black boys are being shot in their backs by officers; hear the voice of the girl with the uncle the other kids have never met; and fall into the sentimental mood with the lovers. trip the light.
starring: tamieka chavis of HBO's the wire - reginald richard - fieven brehana - alain duroseau - deidra taylor

All The Things You'd Be By Now If Tyler Perry's Wife Was Your Mother: darnell lamont walker has abstractly written about the breaking of down of the black male image due to irresponsible filmmakers. come see the black man exactly how hollywood & atlanta sees the black man.
starring: tamieka chavis of HBO's the wire - reginald richard - moyston

-----

i was at an art gallery last weekend and saw what i thought was possibly one of the best "pieces" i've ever seen.
it's called: 'if a mouth were to whisper' by jeanne jo.

that's probably the best love letter.

related: i'm challenging everyone to write a love letter this week to someone you love:
-mother
-father
-the one who got away
-the one who can always come back
-the one you secretly love
-yourself

-----

so tonight i'll be at hooters with the cast & tomorrow with my old buddies i hope at six flags.
i hope that's how it happens.
we'll see though.

come thru.

-----
sometimes you just want someone to sit on the floor with - in front of the couch - laughing at the same stupid parts of a show.
the mood ring doesn't need to be blue all the time.
sometimes you envy the deaf - because words written better express you.

and i guess "you" is "me" maybe, too. sometimes.

-----

a son for a son

2010-07-08T21:39:00.006-04:00

a son for a son

i'm selling unicorns at half price
and police badges that once belonged to cops i've killed
i'm telling the truth about it all
i keep my gun drawn on the foreheads of their children now
call coach and let him know they'll be late for soccer practice
they'll be late for dinner
my late aunt believed in the good of white cops
because the anne frank quote meant something to her
but there is no good behind that badge
under that blue
protected by nipped and white skin
beat
beat
beat
i cannot imagine what it must feel like to have your son killed by cops
i will not stand at my son's grave unshackled
a son for a son
i'd kill the little bastard
sit him on my knee first
walk him to the corner and buy him bubblegum and tell him the story of his father
the man behind the shield
the man behind the bars that reopen soon
and as soon as they do i'd be there waiting
fuck jesus on this one
there'd be no prayer i'd want answered
there's no time
plus they call that premeditation
dear prosecutor: you get more time for thinking than for killing a nigga?
huh?
huh?
huh?
paint your children black for me
a son for a son

cotton candy on a rainy day

2010-07-02T22:11:00.011-04:00

'i hope no white person ever has cause to write about me. they never understand.' - n.g.

they'll say i was less than human. they'll talk about my lack of compassion and empathy and blame it on some childhood event that never really happened, but they'll say i just don't remember.

perhaps hemingway & i share a fate and i'll go mad. perhaps klebold & harris and i'll take out others before getting trapped on the only thing free on earth: water.
the problem with lacking compassion and empathy is knowing you can do anything & feel nothing at all.

-----

one day i'm going to tell her: the reason i stopped believing in jesus is because of you.
she'll know there was something about the stories of her mom's past life as a whore & current life as a saint that creates issues when she finds time to judge me with her side eyes.

she'll know her conditional love is the reason things fall apart.
but she'll blame it all on me, because she's led me to believe that christians do that.

before her there were nothing but doubts & speculations.
during her there were confirmations and run-ins with her mom.
after her there was no more jesus or respect to give the used-to-be whore she hoped to be just like.

the reason i stopped believing in jesus is because of you.
and i'm 97.3% sure i won't go back to that place.

-----

side note: happy and fat have become synonyms. she's happily married, she tells people.

-----

next week i promise i'll wear my dashiki. perhaps around the new york city police officers. dashikis have the ability to hide a multitude of "revolutions," as told to me last week in harlem.

quick 'congrats' to larry d. hylton (larrydhylton.com) for his performance and for following happiness and dreams always - and currently following them abroad to perform porgy & bess.

-----

you ever feel like you're standing in a living room with no furniture - staring out of a huge window with no curtains - onto an empty street after the rain?

this world seems too little. i sometimes seem too much.
i'm beginning to feel like a 3D image on a one dimensional surface.

'it seems no matter how i try - i become more difficult to hold.
i am not an easy [man] to want.'
like cotton candy on a rainy day.
i'm fading away - into somewhere invisible i think.
where ever it is i keep my unicorns caged.

i am not an easy man to want.
i'm not the order things should be loved or cared for.
so i opt for minimalism (i think that makes some kind of sense)

'they have asked the psychiatrists - psychologists - politicians and social workers what this decade will be known for.
there is no doubt: it is loneliness.'
like cotton candy on a rainy day.

-----
the kid:

-----
i'm hoping me and hemingway aren't destined to share a last page.
klebold and harris can kiss my ass.
and everything i have planned will happen.

a fact: the life you are living is the life you chose.
rebirth is not stifled by the master - but by the slave.

-----

yeah - i hope no white person ever has cause to write about me.
they'd read this blog and think i was crazy.

you seem familiar

2010-06-21T23:19:00.005-04:00

photo by: kwesi abbensetts

you seem familiar

it's you
that future i moved out of the left lane for
removed the durag that blinded my third eye for
to see the kids you always wanted
the yard they'd play in
and the boys the girls would bring home that i'd hate with all my heart
they grow up so fast
i grew up too slow
but if i had been grown for them
i wouldn't have been able to grow with you
it's you
i covered tattoos for you and replaced them with longer sleeves
and a name tag
threw out all my book bags
the day after christmas
the day after the briefcase and the blazers
the slacks and a car keys
the bike won't get me to work on time
and this is something worth working for
i wear loafers now
they don't support my arch but they support the structure you've designed
my architect of designs withstanding
understanding rain is necessary and this building must be strong
this building must be quake proof
and the seeds will have to wait until the building can prove itself
it's you
i've planned wars and left my pen on the table next to the plans hoping you'd find them and win
i may not be strong enough to fight
but can carry anything you hand me
i'll cut the cord but you be the first to hold her
you've got the whole world in your hands
that ring wasn't placed there for vanity
that baby wasn't placed there for weight
i can only move a block at a time
gentrify this chess board
you came my way fast
peacefully
it's you
the queen strong enough to put my kids in
the beautiful one sitting beside me on the train
hello
it's nice to meet you

for vanity's sake: and ridding fears:

2010-06-18T14:49:00.007-04:00

so i'm starting this side note in the beginning on the blog.
well...i guess it isn't a side note - but an introduction:

i was listening to robin thick(e)'s 'lost without you' and i came to the conclusion that it is perhaps the most arrogant song i've ever heard. don't get me wrong, i thought this years ago when i first heard it, but after not hearing it for a while and then having it come on the foxx hole - i paid more attention...and yeah...ARROGANT.
so i decided i need to talk like this to people.

"how does it feel to know that i love you?"
"touch yourself when you see me."
"you wanna roll with me. you wanna stay warm and get out of the car with me"

feel me?

okay...side note is over.

-----

-----

i'm in atlanta. a city i used to hate.
not because it's spread out with no real appeal - but because every time i would come, something insane would happen. like the one time i saw the crackhead shoot two people in the head, then set the house on fire.
yeah, i was that close to a crack house.

but - ironically - atlanta is the city that helped me overcome a slight fear.
yeah yeah yeah - i have a fear. well, two.

fear number one: going blind.

in atlanta station there's an exhibit called "dialogue in the dark."
you grab a blind cane, and enter into 4 rooms in complete darkness, feeling your way around with your hand and cane, using every other sense, trying to figure out where you were.
and in a group of 8, i can honestly say i would have been valedictorian had they given out grades.

but i wan't that afraid. probably because i knew within 15 minutes i'd be back in daylight. but also because i'm the kind of guy that adapts. and that exhibit proved it.

so way to go atlanta for helping me take my two-fear count down to one.

fear #2 (only one now) - drowning.

-----

over the past month i've learned a few incredible things about myself.
the most incredible being i seem to make folks insecure.
in my 20-something-odd years of life, i've been told many things about myself. many true - some faker than kobe's rape apology. but over the past month i've had 5 people tlel me how insecure i make them feel.

and not because of things i say, but because of the way i choose to live my life: freely.

i get out all your boxes - i get out.
fuck outta here. i live like i do because i hate traffic.

the highway to nowhere is full of idiots.
this international route is much less jammed.

side note: i've redefined 'idiot.' IDIOT: someone old enough to seek the knowledge but don't.

-----

guiding people to the exit door of your life doesn't always mean you love them any less. it almost always means you love yourself more.

-----

so basically - i had nothing to write about this time - but it'll be better next time i promise.

so i bid a good day to the thousands who are determined to make it, when the millions before them failed.

saving africa's witch children - dear idiots:

2010-06-16T03:08:00.005-04:00

dear tiny - toya - bet - tyler perry & the ignorant:

it's 3:11am (at the start of this letter) - not sure what the end time will be or if it will ever come.
a few minutes ago i decided to dedicate the next 49 minutes of my time to watching this documentary on HBO titled:
saving african's witch children. a documentary about the children throughout african who have been branded witches by their loved ones and killed, mutilated, banished - all in the name of jesus.

To Watch CLICK HERE

side note: this is what happens when you introduce greed into a society - then force religion onto the now greedy.

i just watched a little boy get delivered to a false prophet, laid out as the false prophet poured some sort of blinding liquid into his eyes so he may not see the good people coming his way ever again, therefore he can cause no harm.
are you kidding me? naw, it's no joke, i know. that question was hypothetical.

where do you come in, you're probably asking me.

i mean, as irrelevant as i wish you were, i find you relevant at this hour.
i know too many people who will never understand the importance of helping these children because you've given this fictional lives to believe in. you've used your powers for evil. YOU, my fictional characters and coon, are the witches.

my sister is a child of a bubble. the television company providing cable inside of her bubble only broadcasts networks showing the shit to which you've contributed.
let me say this to you: there is a high price to pay for those using their power and talents to feed garbage to the people. the price i'd like each of you to pay if out of my hands, but these prayers may help.

every so often i ask myself what i'd say when i have the world listening.
i have no clue. i may remain quiet. but i will not throw bubblegum into the crowd, smile, and share with them my dreams of opening another nail shop in atlanta (i'm sure there are enough there).

i digress:

i need a f*cking needled. these bubbles need to be popped.
the children of the children had children who are now fucking.
the bubbles they will live in need to be condemned.

what is the difference between BET & a crack house? (serious question - because i have no answer).

i'm writing to make changes. i'm calling to make changes. i'm marching, changing minds, educating & enlightening to make changes.
i want to save my sister's life to make changes.

but i don't want to do it alone.
but i will.

find me.

Pissed Again - May Write More Later & Ready To See Change,

Darnell Lamont Walker

slightly fucked up: poem 30

2010-06-14T01:19:00.003-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 30: june 14, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

slightly fucked up

it's slightly fucked up to say god slings dick
but i'm slightly fucked up
the vodka ain't yet take effect
and i'm eating skittles attempting to taste the rainbows on mars
in search of space from fallen queens
attempting to get drained by the fallen stars
there ain't no life on mars
just existence
much like this bullshit planet the aliens never visit
i'm chillin'
i'm teaching the children of idiots that god's within
somewhere near my kidneys with a chalice of gin
yeah that's him

i'm so slightly fucked up
i find it difficult to hold on to a field nigger thought with a house nigger education
but i maintain

i'm getting high on shit manufactured by eli lilly's people
it's been growing in the back yard in the shadows of the steeple
the reason this church is so popular

kill the preacher
kill the preacher
he lies
he didn't tell her everything
she never learned to look for the god within properly
and crucified the boy when he did so
she never recognized god on that bench
with that bitch
and his hand on his dick
she never learned that shit

the vodka's kicking in
the pills are kicking in
the skittles and the rainbows
the god and his gin
my fucking kidneys hurt
my liver's on his way out
i'm selling unicorns on pluto
with not one nigga you know

yeah i'm too far gone
space ain't what i needed
just a few milligrams of some crazy shit and a bed
knuckles deep in her kitchen
asking venus for head
butt
but
yeah

Pirates Of The...Something

2010-06-11T00:03:00.006-04:00

Dear Whomever Wants To Listen(Read, Really):

At risk of sounding like a hater of many things, I’m writing this letter. Ironically, I’m writing to Otis Redding’s “I’ve Been Loving You Too Long (To Stop Now).” Prayerfully, I don’t have to explain irony to you.

I spent the better half of 4am Thursday June 10, 2010 planning a revolution. Perhaps one that will never happen knowing the track record of the people I’d be recruiting. But planning nonetheless. In my head I’ve already freed Mumia and brought Assata home safely and untouched. Knowing the source of my tension headache and why I’m beginning to hate overpaid entertainers and athletes(who have nothing to do with this letter), I knew where this planning was heading.

Why, for fucks sake, is BP ordered to pay only $69million for their role in blackening the gulf, putting in danger the lives of what once lived in the waters, and those who relied on that water for life, while Limewire, the media sharing program from which many of use have downloaded countless hours of Joe Cocker, Lil Wayne, porn and dancing cats, may be ordered to pay upwards of one billion dollars, perhaps more, for their role in keeping the pockets of artists to a minimum. Fuck the artists, give Limewire a slap on the wrist, a pat on the ass and keep it moving.

God forbid there’s a program out there that keeps the artists’ pockets not as fat as they rap them to be. God forbid america (written in lowercase letters to show current disrespectful mood) reprimands a company currently keeping politicians on payroll. In the words of Ed Lover: GTFOHWTBS!

Once the oil is cleaned up, and the fish, birds and sea creatures have been brought back to life miraculously by the powers that be and the magic man on the mountain, what happens? When Limewire shuts down and we can no longer steal the music that isn’t worth buying, what then?

Pack the cars full of dead fish, Crisco, petrol and a book of matches and meet me at your closest BP station. Make sure your internet bill is paid, you have the utorrent program and download your shit from: www.isohunt.com.

Damnit. Dear Readers: I think I’ve gotten off track. The point I’m trying to make is this: The government, with their crooked employees, and the companies owned by the same fuckers, have shown their blatant disrespect for the people, and something must be done. They’re playing the role of the college President that allows the football team to murder, smuggle and rape while the average students get expelled for spitting on the sidewalk. Dear Whoever Is In Charge: you remind me of my undergraduate institution’s current president.

And in closing: fuck you artist pissed off at the world for pirating your music. When you use your talents to feed the people garbage, there is a high price to pay. For the amount of money you claim to earn, I think your risk of death should be greater. Each time you get paid, I’d like you to meet me. Bring a blindfold, and a witness.

Fucking Mad and In Love With Old School Music and Free Hip Hop,

Darnell Lamont Walker

there's something about...

2010-06-07T01:20:00.009-04:00

i've been slacking on the blog, doing a little bit of living.
making sure my timeline and inbox are full of invitations and "let's kick it" requests.

so - if you've been keeping up with jones, you'd know i'm now located in new yawk city again.
there's something about getting home at 7:30am each morning that i love.

there's something about:
-rooftop parties in brooklyn and house parties in harlem
-the lake in central park at 3am
-tito's hookah bar in the lower east side
-the village creperie
-catching the sunrise off the f.d.r. in alphabet city
-the thai spot on sheridan
-standing in front of madison square garden eating street meat thinking of the jay z concert you have yet to catch there
-the conversations with @projectbarbipr & A.S. & @OnMyOwnBeat & the random folks with great taste who love my cologne

who wouldnt want to live there?

-----

there's something about the wind blowing cool air at night in DC that makes me want to do better in life.
and that's not to be mistaken with me doing not-so-great now.
i fxcking love my life right now...but when the cool air comes through the screen window in SE DC i know that things are going to be alright.

-----

my doctor called me and told me i could die at any minute if i don't start taking the medicine that thins my blood out to prevent blood clots.

i mean - i take my medicine - but sometimes i don't.
and it's selfish of me, i know, so i'm going to start.

but in the event that i die:

it isn't a bad thing. inconvenient (but only as much as going to the gas station or bathroom), but not bad. i did it big!
woo!

but i'll be taking the stupid a** medication.
-----

damn, there's the breeze again.

-----

i want to say this and be done:

there is a special bond you form with those you've been to hell and back with.
i know this because i pledged.
the bond i have with my brothers is a bond that is damn near unmatched.

that being said, it bogles my mind how those who have not walked to hell with me (us) think they can be placed higher on the priority list.

the end.
-----

i'm thinking of writing a book about the art of lying.
i want to do a section on those who lie & how that lie should be exposed by those lied to.

1. listen to the lie.
2. confirm that it is a lie.
3. accept it as truth.
4. lose massive amount of respect for the liar.
5. devise plans to TAKEN 'EM OUT piece by piece.
6. smile in their face.

-----

body update:

-----

i've brought my first pair of sneakers in the last 7 years.
crazy right.
wow.

now i'm a sneaker lover.

and...

there's a ice cream sandwich calling my name through the door of the freezer.
so i'm going to wrap this blog up a bit.

so, peace folks.
keep up with me.

building sand castles

2010-05-25T19:01:00.004-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 29: may 25, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

building sand castles

off building sand castles
let's build them far away from the water where the sand is soft
i want to grow closer to the end with you
and with nina
and with history books surrounding our feet
your lungs pressed against my shoulder blades
mine pressed against hard wood floors berber carpet and beach towels
there's a smile waiting in the back of your thoughts beneath the curls
it won't bloom until your feet hit the water
off building sand castles we should be lucky enough to love in

i left my sanity by the water beneath a tree before a house
one day i'm going to go back because i promised her i would
he's pressed her lips against my back in places my hand can't reach
the beautiful tree
not my messy sanity
born to bloom
and love hard like an undercover overprotective girlfriend who will die alone
she will follow in those footsteps left before her eyes
the beautiful tree
not the equally beautiful ex girlfriend

off kissing the water
and going with the flow

the darkest ones

2010-05-24T23:27:00.005-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 28: may 24, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

the darkest ones

the darkest ones don't get no weapons
they got shit to prove
revolutions to lay at the foot of the quote unquote massuh
the man the man the man
the myth they allowed to be spread as truth
spread as thin as the melanin in said myth
she gets no guns machetes pens or papers
tell her to prove her citizenship in the nudes she tacks to the walls of garvey's vessel
never give the victims weapons
they tend to use them

the return of me

2010-05-19T16:18:00.004-04:00

where in the hell do we begin after so long, right?

so in a bunch of randomness - let's go in.

*in my flawda (florida for the ignorant) accent*:
got robbed by some ol fuc-kass puss-ass boys at a club there and got the macbook pro, camera, passport, business cards and and a great sum of cash taken.

but as i say often on twitter/facebook/phone/whereever: i teach people how to survive with almost nothing.
as a black man, i've gone so long doing so much with so little - i am now capable of doing everything with nothing at all.

so here i am, back on top of the world, watching - taking notes, etc.
like, really.

but my brothers graduated and life became so much better for those who achieve and those on their way to do just that.
-----

side note:
thank god for those who got pregnant at 14 and now working at mcdonalds drive-thrus with attitudes and weaves.
-----

how does one tell the story of picking up a strange flight attendant in a hotel parking lot who needs a ride to get alcohol in exchange for discount on a hotel room & along the way they pick up two prostitutes (one who minutes later confessed to be born a man) and then never finding the alcohol.

i guess all that's left to say is: i got the hotel room discount in elizabeth, new jersey.

thanks flight attendant who is unknown.
(never got the name)

-----

oh snap!
so i'm headed to brooklyn.

i got hype as hell the other day when i met my old buddy @intelligentsias & new friends @thedopestvegan & @fucallyall on the corner of fulton and s portland in fort greene. gotta get like those cool kids and get me a peddle bike and some funky threads. (funky as in dope!!!!)

oh! and i met kwesi abbensetts who, as many of you know, is perhaps the greatest photographer of all time...and provided all the photos for my 30 poems in 30 days.

-----
speaking of 30 poems in 30 days - i know i stopped at 27 - that was because of the robbery.
i'll finish this this week. watch.
-----

i want something new in life.
what is it though?

-introduce the kid to more culture and greatness: this summer!
-new crepe spot: √
-more spirituality: working on it.
-play this guitar: getting there
-travel more: √

i dont know what it is...but i need it. something real to hold fast to, you know?
it'll come to me.
until then, i'll follow these dreams, goals, bucket lists.

-----

so i have a few friends now that...well, i wouldn't say i'm disappointed in them...but i am not feeling their decision making at the moment.

so to them, i write: (and to whoever needs to hear this)

be happy. what's the issue? why in the fxck would you ever choose to be unhappy. there is nothing or no one that could make me make that decision.

follow happiness always - and figure the other shit out as it comes. it makes you a better person. i promise.

-----

most of my random thoughts come while in the shower.
the most current shower - here were the thoughts:

no one can ever be 100% them in an intimate relationship.
there is too much compromising which takes pieces of "self away"
so when your partner says "why can't you just be you?" (or anything close) - you respond with: "because i'm not 100% me. i'm currently 33% you right now."

feel me?

i'm about to fxck around and write about this. maybe something short for the book
@pabloraul and myself are currently working on.
stay tuned for that info.

-----

so all in all - everything is freaking excellent.
i hope i didn't bore you all too much.

peace.

pigeon-toed girl: poem 27

2010-05-04T01:58:00.002-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 27: may 3, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

pigeon-toed girl

she stood like that on purpose
i told jokes about pigeon-toed women who slept on their stomachs in wet spots
and she took them to heart
after taking me to that same place
that warm spot between her extremities
so far left it's ridiculous
all that's left is ridiculous
just a pigeon-toed girl in a house with no furniture
no one will ever tell the new tenants about the girl that died there
just the jokes her boyfriend told
and the way they found him crying over the body
over the spot
over the spilled cleaning solution
over and over

the dream of them: poem 26

2010-05-04T01:46:00.001-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 26: may 2, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

the dream of them

i want to dream like
the people do when they sleep
crossing no more roads

we vibe: poem 25

2010-05-04T01:05:00.002-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 25: may 1, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

we vibe

we could vibe like they did in those house parties with the red lights and fucking beneath staircases
sans the fucking
there'd be no talks of extracurricular relationships and how my money's made
be satisfied with secrets
have a few of your own
you're not totally the prude they'd tease you for being
all that according to the inhibitions growing smaller and smaller as we threw them from the train caboose and watched virginia disappear like the daughter we didn't plan for
this plan we're designing will work
put on the roots
and vibe with me real quick

this crusade : poem 24

2010-05-02T01:31:00.003-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 24: april 30, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

this crusade

my proposal wasn't hypothetical
neither were my questions about the man with the thorn crown
they never seem to be worth much if the niggas wearing them keep getting them taken
or took
we can do this a few sundays from now when god ain't looking
he has judging eyes the old women led me to believe
none of them had led crusades
unless you include that one time against all those who refused to eat pork for reasons godly
so let's make this official for the westerners and explain it to our people later

we gotta sweat, baby : poem 23

2010-05-02T01:13:00.004-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 23: april 29, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

we gotta sweat, baby

we lay there
sweat funky thinking of names
we'd call him jee-sus
mary ain't no virgin no more
but i never stole that part of her
i never wanted to be that guy
makes no sense in flushing the better parts of me
the future parts of me
ain't nothing at the other end of that tunnel
just the discarded and banned pink and yellow pills
and the babies i never wanted shanelle to have
we put love into tonight's act
in exchange for sweat
and a future with jee-sus

man eater : poem 22

2010-05-02T00:53:00.001-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 22: april 28, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

man eater

we had proof that she was a monster
the beautiful type men begged
but was unsure how to handle
so under her breasts they left notes in case they forget how to put these eggs back together
where they'd never be

the woman in the back: poem 21

2010-04-28T19:51:00.001-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 21: april 27, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

the woman in the back

they tend to fade into the background
no noises
sometimes no faces
had it not been for the sun you never would have noticed

they never know they're losing : poem 20

2010-04-27T18:11:00.002-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 20: april 26, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

they never know they're losing

my baby gonna have that good hair
peter rican indian shit
wet wavy straight and shiny
i want you to have my baby
some brown skin bombshell name marisol on the lower east
alphabet city type broad
study abroad type broad
she just living here til she graduate
i'm just living here til she graduate
then back across one of those uptown bridges
unless i can get her pregnant soon
yeah
that's what i'm finna do
cock ya legs up
baby gonna have my eyes
your everything else

blessed are those who struggle

2010-04-27T01:12:00.006-04:00

yeah yeah yeah - new tattoo. "blessed are those who struggle"
-
yeah, god lives on the other side of the wall.

actually, i'm not 100% sure what i meant by that, but it felt good to say it.
and deep.
speaking of being deep: i hate when poets say "this poem is going to be deep" before they spit the poem and it turns out to be wack as fxck.
nah mean?

if i was forced to give a title to every 30 days, i would call the past 30 days: "the 30 days of insecurities."
92.3% of the people in my life spent a great deal of those days feeling insecure - whether they admitted it to me or not. what i do know for sure is that i'm no dummie - and i know people (thanks to a few professors, mentors, books, and being who i am) - and i know what insecurity looks and sounds like.

if you're sitting there asking yourself "is he talking about me?" - then i'm talking about you.

-----
feeling better about my workouts:

-----

and i'm thinking of making a few changes to the reality television world:

i think the biggest loser should NOT be about losing weight...but about real losers:
neffie
frankie
lisa raye
brandy
ray j
kim & reggie

and the list goes on.
i mean, for real! what the hell is the issue?
why does EVERYBODY have a reality show?

the only reality show starring a used-to-be celebrity that was worth watching and that deserved an EMMY was BEING BOBBY BROWN. for real.
that was BY FAR the greatest show ever in life.

-----

i'm learning that my even my reflection is finding it hard to be me. the life is getting a bit hard - but fair - and i love it more now than i did yesterday.

-----

last week was coachella here in LA - crazy crowds, bands, jay -z, cocaine, liquor and diversity.
who could ask for anything more.

okay okay okay - i didn't do cocaine - but the people i was with did cocaine...
so it was still a great time.

and this is NOT my endorsement to try it.
sigh - stop being so damn sensitive.

-----

and if you've been reading, you'd know i've been doing 30 poems in 30 days. today i posted poem 19: (check post below).

-----

if these walls could talk...we would think someone was trapped inside of them and be scared as hell.
lol. for real.
#random, i know.
speaking of random, i still dislike 99% of tyler perry's work.
and i'm about to send a nasty letter to ntozake shange's house for giving permission to produce her masterpiece.

i hate being an intellectual sometimes.
looking at many of my high school friends, i sometimes think it would have been easier to make nothing of myself, trap myself in a box, and one day die thinking there's nothing else out there.

then i think:
naw.

-----

oh yeah...why are you not following me on twitter? : @skinnyjeanius

-----

and there's 5 weeks until memorial day.
some of you with the muffin tops may have waited too long to start working out - but those of you with a chance can get the body you really want by then. DO IT!!!!

if you're reading this...that means you could also be doing crunches right now. right? right? right?

-----

well...don't wanna bore you relaly and i really dont have much to discuss with you...
so i'll end it there.

cool?

get at me.

orgasms in 2.99 haikus : poem 19

2010-04-26T19:15:00.002-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 19: april 25, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

orgasms in 2.99 haikus

we believe in sex
love is the religion
god comes when he's called

what we do connects
heaven earth moon sun and stars
gods and god on wall

there is no haiku
that will stare at me like you
do. stopping short.

you play too much: poem 18

2010-04-25T19:02:00.002-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 18: april 24, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

you play too much

call nikki and tell her the revolution she's been writing about is soon approaching
black men and women are starting to take responsibility for themselves
and we'll dance on the side walks in celebration
we'll raise the dead in chants
old speeches
guitar chord fingering music
get malcolm's people on the phone
call betty
betty!
betty!
betty!
like she called malcolm from beneath the flames
her husband
not her grandson
and we'll be like five year olds
you play too much

run flower child : poem 17

2010-04-24T17:33:00.003-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 17: april 23, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

run flower child

ain't enough nina simone songs
bongs/hookahs/shisha
poems
or integrated cups of coffee to make me forget what happened
marcus would place us on the same boat because i have no proof or documentation
run flower child
i'd love to sit with you in a park and pick your brain

wait

2010-04-23T15:49:00.003-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 16: april 22, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

wait

when you finish the work early
we sit here and wait to die
if we're lucky it's soon
fill our pockets with letters hoping they won't be mistaken for bread by the buzzards and left behind for the loved ones
i've become successful at tiptoeing around their beliefs and unasked questions
they just stare hoping the tapping of my knuckles on glass will tell my secrets
these will die with me
i promise
the cars are not yet blurry
we are not yet driving fast enough
the bar mate told me there's only one life
love has already proven him wrong
i've met joselyn
and she told me otherwise
something about black girl with natural hair and a canvas i trust
i trust her
i can't walk fast enough
i've waited slowly
and believed fast
these thoughts move through my head seeking permanent habitation and shelter from the storm
the only real things are dreams
but i can not sleep
i want to die watching others take advantage and for granted these lives
this abyss is staring into me knowing nothing is happening soon
and staring into the mirror is only for vanity's sake
but they are everywhere

get them from around me!
a watched body never dies
proven wrong by my aunt in 1991 or years that followed or the funeral procession
proceed
wait

the wall of 812 G : poem fifteen

2010-04-22T15:59:00.003-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 15: april 21, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

the wall of 812 G

there's a picture on my grandma's wall i want when she dies
hoping god finds beauty in both
and there will be no pain in either

do you know stephen? : poem fourteen

2010-04-21T16:21:00.003-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 14: april 20, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

she asked me if i knew stephen
the reason she smoked
she made an attempt at an exorcism
remove these freckles from my face
he found her spot
she was eight then though
and him well into his thirties
he must have been forty my momma said
she read it
i was too young
no i don't know stephen
the reason you smoke
the reason you black out the moon and sleep with dark shadows on the wall
it was a coatrack that scared you
she's almost thirty now
he's almost free now
this next family reunion will be fun
she'll show up with her feminine side in heels and stories to tell of the uncle the other kids never met
what happened to those pretty freckles we used to tease you about little girl
she ain't little no more
she's been waiting for this voice since long before puberty
puberty fucked her up
she now had titties and blood to hide
mama ain't putting me on the pink and yellow pills
and my ass is being grabbed
i read someplace that smoking stunts your growth
they won't notice me behind these pigtails and cigarette butts
smoke it to the brown
in there he plays her
he's touched
they don't leave fingerprints on the back of his head
but they press play on the other side of his eyelids
he gets free
and i want to come to the reunion
but i don't know stephen

lay lady lay

2010-04-20T16:24:00.002-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 13: april 19, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

lay lady lay

lay lady lay
blow smoke
me
but i'm thinking this is the end
the part where we divide it all down the middle
and my shirts begin to disappear
we split
the cigarettes are never enough
and black men die early
so this twentysomething may be midlife
in which case you should know i will love you forever
just not like this
there are no trees no birds
no more free concerts in brooklyn
tired of eating cake waiting on the sun to rise
things become much too clear
if you can promise a life of darkness i'll stay
and you can keep the pots

meet me in the mirror : haiku : poem 12

2010-04-19T14:23:00.002-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 12: april 18, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

pose baby pose stop
meet me in the mirror now
have we met before

friday nights with grandma : poem eleven

2010-04-18T16:56:00.004-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 11: april 17, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

friday nights with grandma

hand-me-downs are for white folks
my mama gave bubble gum and kisses on the cheek when i was sleep
covered by the thickness of grandma's cover
we all were raised in this house
some longer than others
me longer than the woman before me
dear god don't let me grow up to be like her

meet me uptown

2010-04-17T07:20:00.004-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 10: april 16, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

meet me uptown

this ain't one of them corners mami
brown skinned girls from way uptown ain't got nothing to shake
no estoy vendiendo el pecho
spanish babies go hungry at night above the bodegas
and maria dances with her eyes closed in the corner of the room
maria maria
way uptown willie learned to dance
muevase los pies willie
you hear that music muchacho
and if you close your eyes long enough you'll swear tito never died
meet me uptown mami
take the one or the three
funcione con y no falte su tren
i'll be uptown outside the corner deli where luis and ramon traded punches after trading looks over maria
maria maria
encuentreme uptown
meet me up top
let's dance baby

wear shoes: poem nine

2010-04-16T15:49:00.002-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 9: april 15, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

wear shoes

there's a movement not yet ready to stand up and be accounted for
so i hold him on my shoulders

listen son
this sidewalk hurts
wear shoes
the railroad tracks require boots because of glass
and there will be intersections waiting for your voice
they should go deaf while you spit generational dope lyrics from the top of your lungs cursing the dope dealers and business men
they've kidnapped all our messengers and gave them microphones and chains
you will wear no chains
pay attention
it gets dark at night
carry light
travel light
sleep like the masai
drink a glass of water before you sleep
we gotta be up early to learn the block
so which every path you choose
you'll know how to walk

wear shoes

he said - she said: poem eight

2010-04-15T14:16:00.003-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 8: april 14, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

he said - she said:

so she said:

my biggest fear is to be forgotten
tucked beneath the covers like after sex undies and wet spots hidden from regular lovers
pull those curtains and love me long
pull out and love me deep
none of these fantasies hold bags
none of my bags are empty
i've learned to carry them like my mother and hers
carry on

he said:

when i speak of fingering her
i speak of touching her heart
the space between her legs is void of feelings
she's been cut deep
it's just that
space
we split
i need space
i need feeling
i won't forget you black girl
i've learned to love like my father
part those lips
part those lips
love me like tribesman i am
i won't cut you
i won't void your space
i'll fill it with my bags and love you long time

she said:

i will lay on this bed
don't lie
don't burn this bed
i will give you this pulse
and the children to follow
do not cut me deep
promise

he said:
promise

naima : poem 7

2010-04-14T06:30:00.003-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 7: april 13, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

naima

i wasn't sure how long she'd wait
so i loved as hard and as fast as i could in case we needed to redefine forever
i gave her the best ten years in a matter of minutes
in the end we had grown accustomed to each other's face and living lifetimes in weeks
we must have been born again seven times between dinner and breakfast
she'd fix the wrong bacon when we stopped speaking
and laugh as i bit into it knowing i cared more about my soul than i did her
she didn't understand the whole pork thing
they never do
but i can speak volumes lectures and tongues on jesus
around her mom she'd turn into peter
i didn't exist in real life
not after she found the emails love letters phone logs and pictures
none addressed to her
none mentioning her
pork and church followed each encounter
in the name of jesus i stopped sleeping with other women
i'd come home when i got tired
makes no sense to wake up nailed to a cross she carried
happily she carried
and just short of 9 months i was born again
despite his current self
despite the shoes with shards i left behind and the beds i've burned
i was born again
and i will not be my god
but i will give him one to believe in
the book wasn't strong enough to hold the door open for me so she left
there are no corners waiting on us to meet
i wasn't sure how long she'd wait
and my sense of time is now all fucked up
if forever is now what in jesus' name is seventeen minutes
put your phone on vibrate and put it in your lap
i'll call when i'm coming and you can come too
i'll be there in 5 minutes

good mournin' : poem 6

2010-04-13T13:31:00.004-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 6: april 12, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

good mournin'

the sun ain't never looked like this over this place
i've known greens and yellows and dancing times
this ain't no dancing time

i ain't come here to mourn no children
they ain't lived here and i ain't seen them in the streets
the silent children of a god with no throat
his image seemed a bit shabby til the rain came
gone now
they gone now
no sense in me mournin'

i aint come here to mourn no man
my tears ain't to be buried with nobody but me

i've known whites and lace and flowers like these
things old new and blue
blue
true
i don't want no white dress no more
they seem to hold too much

here comes the
music

no sense in me mournin'

yellow mary : poem five

2010-04-12T17:10:00.002-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 5: april 11, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

yellow mary

somewhere in florida they're still waiting on me at the polls
i brought death to the home of one of it's own
and i'd do it again
get your fucking gun out of my face officer santiago
it's fucked up we only notice the stars when laid virtuvian style in front of greyhound

yellow mary and her sister lover mother
the swollen bellies never know the origin on their grandmother's dreams
so we speak of theory and lottery numbers over fish fries and tang
do we still drink tang
it wasn't tongues she spoke over that water
yeye emo eja
i just never remember them speaking of her in red

yellow mary bore kids that would always eat
her dress once white
stained to the beat of an old sade song
they cling to her titties like the children her mother never had
knowing this could be the last meal

and all this i learned with a gun to my head.

conjure girl

2010-04-11T08:25:00.002-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 4: april 10, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

conjure girl

the church can't be bombed again
i lay my lips on her neck in the third pew between sermon and alter call
if there is one
there will be those church fans and fans of church
i left my bible on her alter
my bible being fairly new in relation to hers
in relations with her we did biblical things
i just want to love you like it say in the bible
conjure girl stole my heart and strands of my hair
so i cut my locks
and had them changed
cut my dreams short in case she expected routine while we slept
she'd visit me there often but in my absence
i stood around the corner watching the watcher
i just want to love you like it say in the bible
ain't shit in your good book about what we do
learning to spell out this relationship
learning to spell out these roots
conjure girl sits in the dark with my lips on her neck but my head on the staff
she's got a way with words
a siren of sorts
she spells
she spells
k-n-o-w your r-o-o-t-s
i give her the flowers
hoping these tu-lips can do more than speak life into her collarbone
hoping black roses meant more than one thing
she'd know
and she'd still love me
true or not

de first ting smokin' : poem three

2010-04-10T15:42:00.004-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 3: april 9, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

de first ting smokin'

we be on de first ting smokin'
or de second

ain't no waters like concrete unless you hit it on the way down they say
but this life ain't outta my reach yet
those tires ain't magic and we can't hop on seas
tickle fish feet with our toes and swallow watermelon seeds when we reach the other side
whatever is there
they grow watermelon on the other side won't they

we be on de first ting smokin'
or de second

she tell de boy
take me to the waters and remind me why we can't really leave
undress me and tell me why i packed in vain

he reply
we just ride
you pull de watermelon seeds out my bag and eat

and when they can they'll build themselves a sun
a moon much later
and sew together the handmedown lullabies and old britches

me don't wan live like here

first they gotta hop on the first thing smoking

the hunger : poem two

2010-04-09T02:19:00.007-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 2: april 8, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

the hunger:

the jacket was for show only
the pockets weren't real
small slits cut in to hold just as much as he'd been able to naked
his sack was big he believed
his nuts somehow bigger
but he kept his eyes closed in the locker room
and his mouth closed at the dinner table
he had no say so in that matter
ain't no coincidence about his sack
his nuts dropped and his hustle grew
ain't gonna be no more immaculate conceptions
one dead rabbit is enough
he rapped with niggas who made lefts at forks and all the bad decisions when the right ones seemed so easy
there's much to be said about the god of them all
but between those scriptures he needed his name mentioned and everything due him put on front street
easy street
the block where he grew up
and nuts
it's nothing to stare into the eyes of the severed head
but nuts seem to go unnoticed when the eyes of the patriarch are staring at you over fried apples biscuits and apple butter
no - the jacket was for show
the joke at christmas to hide the part of his body least exposed
for fucks sakes
who puts on a hoodie with their fingers crossed?
no one asked what he wished for that one day over the fire
the candles
the candles
the candles
the party wasn't really his
the candles
no more lights around here thanks to the story of jesus
god don't come around here no more
not since the last dead rabbit
got him a girl baby
immaculately named jennifer
what you gonna put in your pockets now son?
your hands don't fit in the slit
and everything else you got will get you killed
or rico'd upstate
where god spends his summers
and his kid's adolescent years
what's in those pockets?

she spoke: poem 1

2010-04-08T05:16:00.003-04:00

30 poems in 30 days
day 1: april 7, 2010
(photography by kwesi abbensetts)

she spoke

she spoke
not the bullshit conversation starters and 'p' pronunciations full of spit and caked up corners
but true to life shit
parted lips are not made for whispering
legs parted at the knees and the beautiful spaces unoccupied between the top of her thighs
triangular
she's been waiting on me and the sun to rise for the last few days
fuck fuck fuck she'd scream to the same god acknowledge just moments before
something about him visiting whenever we'd fuck
make love
fuck
fuck
fuck
hair tangled so my hands would never leave
eyes open just in case
she wanted to watch me stay
come
something about the man she hopes i'd never know or grow into
i thought they were the same
just something about my mustache that helped her tell the difference
twist baby
remove my eyes from my pen and tablet
part your lips and legs
speak it
she spoke

-me

something to hold on to

2010-04-02T00:32:00.005-04:00

a lot of girls be thinking my words are about them.
this is not to get confused. this one's for you:

you remind me of the poet i was when we slept short-ways on a twin bed up north
nothing fancy - just the shit we felt made us poets
before we understood government assassination was a real threat and you were the only one who knew my phone was tapped by the ethiopian people
it was serious
i'm thinking of taking up refuge or at least playing john legend's old shit until i feel like a poet again
or at least a dancer
take up arms
raise fists
remove skirts boots and american eagle denim
hoping for at least two and a half good strokes before we pull the condom out of pocket
barbed wire statues the holocaust and turkey bacon
thanks for the jay z mix tape or cd
why are we not calling cd's mixed cd's?
i love you now as much as possible given the circumstances
but you know you still my nigga
you're the only non nigga i call nigga
insert laugh
exhale bullshit
change names
you remember benny
you were there when benny was born
and i assume you'll be there when the poet dies
left wrist tatted
still
i
love
you
deep

-me

-----

i'm feeling big. not in the sense of having weight, but colossal.
know what i mean.

i told you i get my best thinking done in the bathroom - usually the shower.
well, i hit the shower today and i was thinking about all i want to do this year, and all i've done in years past, and i wanted to pat myself on the back, but i had just finished my 100 pushups for the day and my arms weren't able to reach back there without a bit of pain.

and i reserve the right to boast.
i worked hard - so fxck those who aren't able to take it.

side note: the only people pissed off at other people bragging are the people not doing what the should be doing to get what they want. feel me?

and there are a few people i want to thank for my current success and inspiration.
they know who they are.
THANK YOU.
see you at the winner's table.

-----

speaking of winning:

history is written by those who win.
so if you're not winning, don't worry about the legacy you're leaving behind - it will be forgotten.

i've changed a few of my goals to fit one of the ultimate goals.
it's not to live forever - but it is to create something that will.
and those of you who know me know how strongly i support education and educating the masses.
and many of you know about my 2013 goal of opening THE SCHOOL OF THE RIGHTEOUS.

it's actually coming along great. i love it.
it's what i plan to leave behind.
that will live forever - either the school itself - or the teachings of the students.

-----

and lastly:

our words do not belong to us - but to those who need it.
it's no surprise to me when people call me an "axxhole" because i know what i say and how it comes across.

but i write those words for those who need to be entertained throughout the day.
not those sitting at a cubicle saddened by the little and big hand on the clock...
but folks who NEED a laugh today because they may have nothing else to hold on to.
so i need them to hold on to those laughs - sometimes in exchange for hope.

feel me?

so pay it forward.

peace.

waiting on my real life to begin

2010-03-25T15:39:00.019-04:00

so i'm starting this blog with a side note:
i've never said "this year is going to be my year" because i didn't want the losers to think that last past years weren't.
feel me?

it's like those folks who say:
"i'm going to stop giving a shit about what other people think about me and just do me.
i would never say that because i knew better to begin with than to care what other people thought about me.
that's why i do the things i do and live as free as i live.
feel me.

i learned a long time ago not to worry about grown folks.
eff 'em.

oh - and i fxcking love peaches and cream oatmeal.

-----
i get my haircut in west hollywood and i'm always pleased with the cut - but when the barber finishes & tells me the price of the cut (as if i don't already know) i want to suggest to him that he shave my balls, too. (because the price is high - nothing gay) but this last trip there, the breast-out old lady they have working there from time to time offered chocolate covered strawberries and rice krispy treats. (hmmm...)

-----

last weekend i found myself in long beach for the long beach step show.
i went alone. woo!
but if you've been keeping up, you know i don't mind alone. i know how to make friends, so i always have a great time.
besides, this time i planned on meeting up with bruhs, socializing, fraternizing and doing it big.

blah blah blah (in place of the real story)
i had a wack time - and would have had a much better time in walmart looking for white tees without pockets.

but i did catch up with my ace boon coon @toolegit2twit.
so we kicked back front row and waited for it to end.

my, how i miss the south.
see you folks next week.

-----

i should wake up this town.
or it should be my intentions.

this morning i took the train to an audition and rocked it.
no doubt - i did.
i feel really confident about the whole thing, but knowing the way hollywood works & my anti-hollywood theories - it may not be for the best.
but who knows.

lol.

OH!!! some of this blog may not make sense. the music in my ears (blasting through @sirandrewk's headphones) is too loud and my focus is lacking.

the other day i invaded a booth at the bar.
not really invaded, but i felt like meeting new people, so i sat down at their booth and introduced myself.
between their random bumps of cocaine and the liquor spills, we became fast friends.
woo!

------

and look at that, while writing that, the girl beside me struck up a conversation.
we probably won't be friends, but sometimes it's good to remind yourself that other people do live here, too.

i received a call from a friend a few days ago who just wanted to tell me thank you for the time and patience i invested in helping him get back in shape. and that really made me feel good. then i told him to call oprah and see if that was enough to get us on the show.

see, folks, i'm not always an asshole.

but speaking of working out - i am getting in pretty great shape.
see:

-----

i don't know if i ever told you folks this - but most of my great thoughts hit me while i'm in the shower.
no lie!
so i was sitting there thinking about all the relationships i saved, killed, participated in over the past few years and how the folks i helped and even myself (back then) fell into a routine with each relationship...

so i offer this little tidbit of advice:
if you always do what you've always done - you'll always get what you've always got.

also - on relationships:
when you get to the point where you don't wanna bring up issues you feel are developing in your relationship because the other person is too sensitive or they seem to have something negative to say (verbally or lack thereof) about EVERYTHING you bring up - it may be time to get out.

don't walk on eggshells for anyone!

-----

side note & fact: african americans spend 4 billion dollars a yeah. that's $4,000,000,000 (right?!). NONE OF IT GOES TO THE COMMUNITY. where is the disconnect. everytime i ride through beverly hills, down fairfax, down melrose, etc... i'm jealous of the jewish folks who give back every chance they get and now RUN hollywood.

what the fxck is going on, idiots?

i'm done.
-----
shwitting: verb. to shwit. def: tweeting while shxtting.
example below:

-----

dear black greek-lettered organization members,

here's a little entertainment:

but i fxcking love my chapter: GOODFELLA GAMMA THETA CHAPTER of KAPPA ALPHA PSI

-----

To The So-Called Americanized African (In that order),
First amongst equals,

this is my umpteenth attempt at trying to reach you, and it may very well be my last due to my
premonitions that you may not want to be reached.
For the past six years I have been playing what seems to be one of the most intense games of hide-and-seek, but not with anyone you’d know, at least not personally; nor physically. I’ve found myself running down unpaved alleyways and weaving through dimly-lit city blocks looking for Truth. And each attempt to reach you was to inform you that I have not yet found him, so unless he’s at your house, he is still missing.

Sitting over a plate of refried black beans, two soft fried eggs lightly peppered and enough plantains to fulfill a monthly yearning, I found myself deeply involved in a conversation, probably much like that of Malcolm and Martin’s, if in fact that meeting actually took place. My comrade and I, she being more like Martin in times of war, discussed Dubois’ thoughts and Baraka’s interpretations on the Sisyphus Complex and came up with this:

When Death came for the kidnapped Africans with its long, white reach, they chose to live, like Sisyphus. Going against fate, they were sentenced to a hill. At the bottom of this hill, a perfectly round boulder would be placed for the purpose of being pushed up the hill. When the top of the hill was reached, the boulder, each time without fail, would roll to the bottom, which is where they’d have to begin again.

This hill does not exist, at least not physically, my friend, nor does this boulder, but in your mind, and at that place you go every morning cursing through the leftover dew and darkness and from which you return cursing in sunshine most days, rain the others, this hill and boulder does exist and you, dear So-Called Americanized African are Sisyphus. Please, friend, do not misunderstand my claims and offer yourself to death once more as a solution, offer yourself to life. There is much more to living than that boulder.

I found myself in your home not too long ago. You weren’t there. Next to the Bible you keep on your kitchen table next to the empty cake container there was a note that read OUT TO LUNCH, so I made myself comfortable hoping you’d return soon.
The right-winged man that has been taking you out to lunch for the past few decades has been spoon feeding you chicken flavored inaccuracies and new traditions, and I came by to tell you to stop accepting his invitations, but you were already gone. Also, I came by because I discovered something new, and I thought I’d share it with you. I’ve finally perfected my frog killing technique and upon completion, I found what looks to be awfully familiar:

1. Take a frog...any frog.

2. Put that frog in a pot of lukewarm water. Cold water may shock him. Hot water may scald him.

3. Put the pot with the frog on the stovetop on low heat.

4. At this point, just watch the frog as he sits comfortably in this warm water. Watch him notice that everything around him is the same, but whatever it is he’s sitting on is changing...but just a little. He’s not yet sure if things are getting bad.

5. Turn the heat up a little more, but not too much. He’s getting a bit more nervous, but not too nervous because he’s still there. Everything around him is the same, so he may assume he’s the same.

6. Turn the heat on high. Watch that frog boil and die. Everything around him is the same, though.

Now doesn’t that sound familiar to you?
Soon I may find myself ducking behind old wooden doors and odd cars in Copenhagen if I find my cause within you to be unjust. I here Truth is there, somewhere cruising the red light districts and libraries. I’ll be waiting on you, dear friend.

When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.

-----

and after all my logic and theory - i add a 'motherfucker' so the ignorant niggas hear me. (and by 'niggas', i speak of all mankind)

fist bump to you all:

beware of dog

2010-03-19T02:13:00.008-04:00

so the sign is on the fence - "beware of dog" - but you decide to skip your happy a** in there anyway and get fxcked up.
who's fault is that? yours or the dogs?

RIGHT - YOURS!!!

so why can't people carry this same thought into their many relationships (romantic and otherwise)?
three times this week i've been confronted with this issue.
folks have entered into relationships knowing the dog was in the yard - but proceeded anyway.
then when bitten - they blame it on the dog.

(and we're not talking in the sense that "all men are dogs" or any of that off-the-wall bullshit fed to weak women by the scorned masses. we're talking in metaphor)

basically LADIES & gentlemen: when he or she tells you something - listen. if the actions disagree with their words, oh well. LISTEN TO THE WORDS. damn. save us all some time.
trust me: your friends are tired of giving you advice and you not listening.

-----

every once in a while we must abandon all maturity and make fools of ourselves. at least catch a cartoon from time to time and smile at the unreal world.

i strapped on the rollerblades and hit the venice boardwalk. mostly for cardio but it felt good.
gonna do it often. probably not at venice, though.

if you've been keeping up with me long enough you'll know where i keep God hidden.
he lives where water & sand meet.
trust me. go check him out.

so i went there and i found him, and we spoke and everything is everything he says.
i mean, he doesn't really have a voice, but i imagine he speaks like aquarius rappers or in rhymes like cam'ron.
God is that dude. lol

"i know god personally. in fact, he lets me call him 'me'" - saul williams.

so here is my conversation with god:

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even bentleys get visited by the repo man every now and then.
don't let the reflection of your low self esteem in the door fool you.
okay?

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my cologne - boots - backpack all arrived and i'm hype as FXCK!!!
the cologne smells like god's sweat and the boots are the SHXT!

i wish i could tell you what they were, but after stepping foot on santa monica tonight i see how influential my fashion can be.
LMAO.

feel me?

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felt like posting something old:

six months ago i imagined how your heart would beat when i put my ear there.
this isn't how it's supposed to sound.

i imagined every fifth beat would be skipped - just for the hell of it.
nothing special - except my head fits there - balanced.

at some point slightly after our first spades game (you flipping several cards up as you dealt) i decided i'd find a crack to slip through when you weren't looking.
there are no new year resolutions in this year's journal - on purpose.
i wanted to start this year with no expectations or bars to reach - giving you a head start.

three months ago i figured my head may be too big to fit
so i'd use my hand first.
slow my heart rate to keep the beast from conquering your heart.
i'd get it another way.

the pillow you offer on the cold nights when my apartment becomes too far to drive back to can remain on the bed where i've left several dreams and a few cloud-like configurations.

let's eat whatever it is i cook and discuss sexual partners and why we're each other's exception.
let's kiss between the periods and the first letters.
inhale the rest of my cologne when the commas get to be too much.

"how long you think we can do this?" - you ask.

"until one or the both of us can no longer believe in forever or fiction." - i replied.

you rolled to your stomach and turned your head towards mine: "are you comfortable?"

i remained on my back - staring at the ceiling - silent - knowing your heart was now closer to me: "i'm good"
and i found my side of your bed.

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and on the note that nobody knows who the fxck kanye west is anymore, let me say goodnight and i will think of you all.

don't be different (you un-brave fools)

2010-03-11T23:12:00.006-05:00

i'd rather die than conform. open my veins on the bathroom floor.
this blog is supposed to piss you off.
i want this entry to play an unfair game of open chest with you.

my brother, @tonyp_ said it - and i retweet it all the time: "i did not get to where i am by walking with losers." and because of that, i thank God every morning i wake up that i am unable to spot a loser when i see one.

okay okay okay - it's not really that simple. see - losers look like everybody else. they have the bags under their eyes and their backs hurt and their hands are calloused - but they have nothing to show for any of those things.
the bags under my eyes mean i was up for 36 hours proving to the world that there are enough hours in a day.
the back pain and calloused hands come from carrying too much weight. mostly the weight of those who've given up years ago at the first sign of struggle. those few with cinderblock walls and smiles on their faces.
the few who, in my opinion, would have been much better off taking themselves out years ago.
but they smile like i smile - but only one of use smiles at freedom.

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at this moment: 8:25pm PST - i am no longer offering my respect to those who've become products of their environment. it is only offered to those who've become products of their thoughts.

the lazy and content say "you don't know what i've been through"
the survivors say "i don't look like what i've been through."

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and the story goes:
the man had been watching the birds for a while. he recognized which bird among the flock was the strongest, and he captured it. he wanted to admire the bird whenever he'd come to the park, so he painted the bird a different color than the rest of his flock so they, too, would recognize him as the strong - different than them.

then he released the bird to be back with his flock.
as the bird flew back toward his flock - his flock flew towards him, recognizing him as different and now an intruder - and they killed him.

the end.

create your own lesson learned - your moral - your conclusion of that story.

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#fact: i sometimes feel like giving up on my goal to educate, inform, enlighten the people.
yeah, some are elevated - but that's one of thousands that won't.
and when i speak out against ignorance - the dumbing down of society - or trying to give "the people" the pill that will free them from the machine - they call me a hater.

definition of hater: knowing what the truth is.

ah well. but i said i feel like giving up sometimes. but i never will. it feels too good when the mentee becomes the role model.

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i don't look like what i've been through:

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working on my success story

2010-03-09T14:05:00.007-05:00

i'm hella hype for gabby & monique.
i remember checking out precious in new york with @jahmar1911 and really feeling the social worker scene.
i, unlike 97.8% of the audience, read the book, so i knew what to expect - but the onscreen mary jones was more than i could ask for. wow.

so congratulations to them both on their current and future achievements!
who wouldn't want a success story like those?

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just got in from LA's version of canal street. a little spot i like to call "little big mexico." all the shoes are wrapped in plastic & the only boots they have are caterpillar construction boots. (sigh). the shades were cool and the watches held value - but the best thing i saw there was this sign:

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so yesterday - @sirandrewk & me were kicking back in wasabi drinking soda & eating $1 sushi rolls before hitting the streets. and we were talking about achieving goals, why were were & weren't on the right path and what we needed to do to get where we needed to be - and i was telling him about the script i wrote with nicole beharie in mind and then...

i hear a girl beside us on the phone, laughing and talking in a southern accent. so i look over and introduce myself and ask where she's from. "south carolina" she says. so we chop it up & we learn that she and nicole beharie are actually friends and she heard us talking about her, and she as gonna call her and let her know she ran into someone with a script for her to check out.

and whether she reads the script or not - my point is: you never know who you may be sitting next to.

#fact: i am nice to everyone i meet. i smile, share my food and drink, and whatever else denotes niceness. ask anyone that knows me: they'll tell you.

so i made a new friend in wasabi yesterday and the circle continues to grow larger and larger.
(sings mcdonalds: ba da da da daaaah i'm lovin' it)

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and LA is attempting to kidnap me, i see.
the scenery lacks and the people (not all) aren't as active as the cut throat east coast folks, but the opportunities - networking - magic is here. and this time around something is definitely different.

so i'm milking it.

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side note: the economy is fxcking great. the only people not working are the people who never learned to hustle.

-----

and we, as fans, need to stop giving credit to "artists" just because they have years in the game. snoop doggy dogg fxcking sucks & so does LL Cool J & 500 other folks who need to retire and just LISTEN.

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here is a note of protest for my brother:

fxck whoever won't let jay snead run for office at bethune-cookman college. they don't give a shxt about the student body - just the money. you know who you are.

(that message was not approved by jay snead and he has nothing to do with it)

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@mswoods03 came out to LA this week and we did it semi big. walked through rodeo drive - got spotted by paparazzi & tourists who probably thought we were flava flav and delishus (ignorant spelling) - and hit fresno and roscoes and some mo' shxt.

GOOD TIMES.
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the other night i had a dream about a friend i lost last year.
it was one of those tv type dreams where she appears at the foot of the sofa and reveals something to me. you know what i'm talking about?

well, i actually met her at the apartment she lived in when she died & we talked about inappropriate things, and laughed and she grabbed my hand and told me to tell a few folks that things would be alright.
quite strange, i tell you.
i've never wanted to be the guy that dead folks come to, but if they wanna start now, cool. too bad they don't have money to hook a brother up. nah mean?

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i have too many friends who will wake up at 45-years-old and realize that stepping out of their comfort zones when they were 20+ would have been so much easier and less painful than waking up at 45 realizing the only goal they've accomplished was to stay alive. how sad is that?

i refused to be that guy when i was 10.

are you that person?

#fact: i am a life consultant.
so if you want to change something in your life and get better - hit me up. i'm always willing to help. not free - but you will be happy with who you become. guaranteed.

and don't get me wrong. i never press everyone to become successful. if everyone became a success story, who'd flip our burgers and clean our tables in the mall? but some of us are BORN TO SUCCEED!

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and the day is beautiful and i have so much to do. dang dang dang.
i'm hoping the website goes up this week thanks to @chocolatedawl

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so today, let's say FTW and succeed!

tough times don't last - tough people do.

2010-02-28T22:18:00.014-05:00

-am i the only one surprised tyler perry hasn't made a sitcom or comedy film about the haiti earthquake?
-am i the only one pissed that the happy slave, fonzworth bentley (derrick watkins) is still alive?
-whales and chimps are not pets. it's all fun & games until someone dies or their face is fucked up.

oh...in case i forgot to talk about it:
the 25th anniversary of "we are the world" can go straight to the pits of hell - or wherever that scream wyclef belched out came from.
it was god awful.
okay okay okay - not god awful. (house of payne is god awful). we are the world was just bad and should have been left the hell alone like jay z said. they should have just digitally remastered it or show a video to accompany the old one. oh well. it's done and over.

-and damn BET right now for showing crooklyn, knowing i love that film, but hate the network. oh well, i'll watch the dvd later.

-do you know how much we could achieve if everybody wasn't so concerned with receiving credit?

list of people to lose their fame and possibly their life this week:
-fantasia: for that dumbass reality show.
-michael vick: for the same reason.
-bill cosby: for being the bitter, old, black uncle people hate to see show up at the reunion.
-lil mama: for that same stunt she pulled on stage with shawn and alicia.
-many more.

that's my rant and rave
-----

gregory peck wrote:
tough times don't last - tough people do.

and the last week has hit with two pseudo celebrity suicides.
tough it out people.
suicide is such a permanent answer for a temporary problem, wouldn't you say?

i remember high school and there was suicide after suicide. partly because the town i came from was small as fxck and there was nothing to do but go to the mall, "mack the honey dips," go bowling and then suicide.
one girl was found swinging from the ceiling fan from her belt. her father found her an hour after he told her she couldn't go away to college because of the C she got on her report card (her first C ever in life).

one boy told him mom he was going for a walk one night, went in front of the school, soaked himself in gasoline and lit the match. the janitor put the flames out. before crying "don't let me die" two days later, he did.

while i agree that there are people who should just take themselves out of the game, there are still those who are considering it that we will miss very much. (don't like what i'm saying? there's an app for that)

and it's probably safe to say that we all have thought about what it would be like to kill ourselves, or have gotten to the point in our frustration, anger and/or depression and may have thought "man, fuck this life" - but we ain't doing it.

damn - i forgot where i was going with this part of the blog. oh well. but let me say this:
sometimes all it takes is a phone call or a huge or a text to change someone's mind. if you think someone is going through it, talk to them and let them know.
it doesn't have to be all sentimental and soft.

say: i love your punk ass!

that's it.

(text from @PinkiesNKreme)
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CONGRATS TO REGGIE BUSH'S FIANCEE FOR HER NEW PERFUME & CUPCAKES:

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so LA is going well.
last week i attended Tarina Tarrantino's Beauty Premiere in hollywood. I felt like i showed up for a gunfight with a rubberband. Kimora brought the daughters & kelly osbourne came through. i laughed it up with tasha smith and seth green confessed his engagement. all around: a good night.
and like most hollywood big heads, i left early. i was fxcking hungry.

and this week is going to be crazy.
i got the dreams girls premiere (who wants to go - tuesday?)
networking breakfasts, lunches, dinners and hustling & grinding my way to the red carpet of the academy awards.
then very possibly VEGAS with youknowwho. (looking for hotels & shows now)

-----
side note: am i the only one who flashes back to waiting to exhale every time an allstate commercial comes on?
-----

we need to stop putting limits on those who we befriend. you'd be surprised who'd answer the phone when you really need them.
it's kinda funny how old age makes so many things that once seemed important/out of the question/relevant - not hold so much weight.
At least that's what old age should do. if not old age, then life experience.
and what i've experienced in my travels is that many of the people i once laughed at & bullied in high school turn out to be some of the greatest friends ever - meanwhile, the folks i kicked it with hardest are the ones that wouldn't leave the comfort of their beds if i were stuck at a train station in compton at 3am. (thanks kiya & eden)

but as you all know - i'm smart. so those bad friends don't exist in my life. i treat my friends like parachutes. if they aren't there the first time i need them, i'll never be needing them again. feel me?

-----
i'm in the mood for a good ass game of hide & go seek.
who's down?
-----

dear friends & potentials:

i am not the salvation army. do not come to me with sorrow in your eyes and voice - or feeling overly emotional hoping i'll share your pain or nurse you back to happiness.
i cannot. i will ignore it and speak to you when that mood has passed.

somewhere along the path of here and then - i lose my empathy and i'm not 100% sure where to buy more.

-----
um...what the hell is this mcdonalds commercial with the singing "you got me a 10piece 'cause you're not so stingy" ?
-----

oh shxt! i finally finished the pilot episode of the project i'll be starting this spring. woo! it feels good and so far the reviews have been great. so stay tuned. cool?

-----
and dear text message forwarders:
if i get one more text message about the love of jesus & sending to 10 people - i will write you back telling you what to do with that magical, cell phone using jesus of yours.

-me

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so i end with this:

all the little pieces

2010-02-23T00:25:00.007-05:00

first & foremost: forgive me for the randomness of this blog.

@chocolatedawl facebook status: It's amazing how someone can break your heart, but you still love them with all the little pieces.

and i guess she couldn't be any more real. though most of my life has been about being the suspect & not the victim - i have been broken once & those pieces still managed to act out without my permission. feel me? RIGHT ON, @chocolatedawl.

and so i'm building right now.
i figure we should treat relationships like homes we're building from the ground up.
it's all about a solid foundation & great support.
(i mean really - we need to apply this to ourselves as well. build a solid foundation for self, and don't worry about the doors until the whole house is built perfectly - or close)
LET OTHERS IN.
feel me?

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side note: black folks need to go to the theater more. the real theater - not the minstrel shows they tend to call theater from time to time. something with real acting. cooning is NOT acting.

and i was thinking of buying my first p-coat. "look at his p-coat - tell me he broke" -kanye.

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H.L Mencken wrote: every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats.

what did he mean by that? as a writer/poet/etc... i've learned not to take shxt for face value. but i think i will here.
every so often, we (the extraordinary) need to be ready to put in the work that makes us sweat. the work that requires casualties. Not literally - but the loss of a friend or a loved on. (in my case - my friends & loved ones are hard to tell apart).

so i'm spiiting in my hands, Mencken & i'm planting the flag into the concrete. this throat slitting part will prove difficult. not because i'm afraid to kill but because i have too many people on the list. (not physically killing anyone, snitches)

the list:

-my 9th grade english teacher: fxck you for attempting to put a limit on my writing.
-The skinny male guidance counselor for keeping most of my friends in our hometown by telling them they'd have a better chance applying to a vocational school.
-my friends who can't figure out that their thoughts control their actions and their situations will always be the same as long as their thoughts are what they are.
-those who wake up every morning to the sound of an alarm clock so they can focus on nothing except another man's dreams.

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and the birthday is over. the work must begin. the hustle i speak of often.
-yesterday i was hired on as a freelance writer with LA's Splash Magazine.
-saturday i have an audition for a film.
all days between are filled with lunches, brunches oscar-nominated short film viewings, wine tastings, liquor tours, kardashians, lees and hopefully a bit of sun.

a month ago i signed my first author - daven oglesby (@soulcypher) & today his first book of poetry hit the streets hard.
get your copy today.
by the way: i'm signing 2-5 more authors by may. get on board and be heard!

today a girl said it pisses her off when people work 2 or more jobs HARD and are barely getting by. living paycheck to paycheck - but she sees people who barely do anything traveling the world, buying expensive things....
naw - she wasn't talking about me - but i did want to respond with the cliche:

you can do anything you put your mind to.

spring is around the corner & my inbox & blackberry calendar reminds me of my grandmother's purse: full & heavy.

------

side note: talking to my little brother @thekaptainkirk - it may be a safe move for drake to disappear from young money and beg jay to pick him up. he'll be ruined by 2011.5 (yes, .5)

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and i wanted to take a picture similar to bob's. i'm working on it though:

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dear heartbroken people:

use those shattered pieces of heart you've pushed under your bed to make a weapon and stab the shxt outta whoever made you as foolish as you've become. then cry a rive - build a bridge and get over it.

and while i'm on the subject: stop putting down the opposite sex because YOU made the decision to date some fool.

follow: @mswoods03

(and please learn from my photo above how to do the "n-word please" expression.

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take these words to heart:

"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone."
— Rose Kennedy