Saturday, September 3, 2011

Knowledge isn't gained by Wealth

 They say it is wealth that provides the resources. My wealth is found in the creativity that flourishes within me. To have given life to such creatures and deny them opportunity, I will not stand for it. I will not allow it. My child will succeed. My child will be somebody, far above mediocre.

 At nineteen with a child beside me, set aside my dreams. No! See my dreams carried out through my seeds. No money like the grandeurs. But capable to have eyes illuminu[er]. To the prince I read at birth, at months, at one. We were street walkers, always street walkers. I was proud of mines, never shy to say - brother, cousin - no - he is mine. Parade the prince where ever man can reach. I was blinded to the world but these 10 blocks square was his world. Stumbled as he proceeded yet I allowed him to be free, stopping every inch of the way to question what earth had to display. Standing in front of the neighbor house, for he was amaze our mail box did not look like theirs. Questions were asked, so for the next few minutes our lesson was in play. Walk the neighborhood to see what type of mailbox lies within the way. And so he learned, things may be called the same by name but may also come in so many different forms. Attracted to the leaves, so we continue along discussing the color green, even as we enter our home and he sits on his thrown only to be given a piece of paper that was cleared on the back, for my syllabus would now be taken with me to class with the drafted creativity by my seed. Everything I earned while artistically creating with the loose strings found on our dome - went and was spunt always for my son. Rows of books, delivered my mail. More then three times a day, never went to bed without embedding 5 stories in his head. Flash cards, yet the boy still ran wild. Never took away the kid in him, but never allow the knowledge to fade in him. Monetary issues, I was not of the wealthy to purchase such luxury and so I ventured out to the library, at only just one, the library was what he called home. Certain stores sold books that still held intellectual quality for just one leaf. Over thirty books, each worth less than a two dollar bill. Keyboards, drums, guitar, yes I support the arts. Toys, vehicles, teddy bears, blocks. Bike, scooter, skates, a board, hold up ,no, no, refused to get the pogo. Instruments destroyed and replaced, now with harmonica, recorder, more books, puzzle, worksheets, both ranging at various age levels just to satisfy my seed(s). Two or more of everything when it comes to certain things, especially outside stuffs, always outside stuffs. My princess is like a little dream, craving intellect more than we can believe. I never intiated the art of reading, but she always sat on my lap as I read to the prince, and so I guess for her, her imagination too was being explored. Read to me read to me, she will scream, she will fuss, reading to her is a must. She won’t ask, she will find, she has to write, she has to learn. Flash cards she will take, don’t allow it, for you it will be a huge mistake. Questions, always asking question. Television, not a habit, only used sprangily, just to relax in it. She knows her status, she is high, she is bright, she’s a beauty, she’s a princess. She is the formation of the creation of a building progression of intellect. And so I wake to see so much greatness that has been made. They are abundant, my pockets are minimal, no where near those of the elite, yet I still manage and my seeds were provided with such educational equality.

Friday, September 2, 2011

Dark Child (1.1)

Post that complement this post
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I remember laying in the hospital bed. There was so much going on around me and I kept zoning in and out. The nurse was talking to someone, a man. This someone I later found out was representing me, but that was weeks after today. After the nurse left the room, he stayed and stood by the door just watching me. More like staring at me. I didn't like it, not for one bit. It made me so uncomfortable. Everytime I looked at him I started having these heavy breathing. I felt hot and trapped. I was getting frustrated for nothing. I hated this feeling. Hatred grew within me and I started to stare at him as if my eyes could have delivered the act of death upon him. I was full of fear, hatred, frustration. I couldn't breathe. I passed out.
My parents were in the room. They looked so disappointed, so angry, unfortunately, I read no sign of hurt or guilt. I didn't care. I was so happy to see them, so happy to see a familiar face. What I've just experienced was far more cruel than anything they ever put me through. All I wanted to do was go home. Yet something made me freeze. The way they looked at me, as if they were ashame. I didn't understand what just took place. I was so confuse, I was so hurt, I was terrified, I was in pain. I try to move and all of a suddenly I started to bleed. I screamed, I cried, I yelled mom. It hurted. My body ached. My vagina. The uncontrollable pain that I felt from my vagina and my lower abdomen. I got off the bed, I hardly could walk, and I was stumbling towards my parents. I cried. There was so much blood. For the first time I saw pity in the eyes of my mother. Tears ran down her cheeks as she yelled to me to stop walking, to stay where I was. She rushed over to me. She didn't care as she lifted me and told me everything would be alright.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Perseverance

 I do not reach for the stars, I gaze towards the moon. I do not follow the road, I set my own path. I do not swim in the river, I transcribe my soul within the stream. Pebbles of rocks strengthen itself, forming boulders and stepping stones as it acknowledge the majestic being that lies within me. Behold the words of a well made Queen. The wounds have been healed at the very moment in which it was created. Come a little closer, do not be afraid. Fear is what one may assume is being imposed, but I hold the key to the Ultimate Soul. Rise above it all as I continue to prosper and answer Life’s call. Delicately woven into such a creation that is divinely empowered to persevere. The whips may bruise but it cannot shatter the spirits of the high.
Listen to the air, it whistles to the stars. Engulf yourself, be one with the wind and allow it to dance the rhythm of life around you.  Shhh, be the moment, control your surroundings. Man may come forth, declare challenge upon me. I laugh at the call for I cannot be tamed. I am a perfected creature of the wild and so I exclaimed and shouted to the world and my cry trembled throughout the universe. I stand before you not as the one who endured hardship and struggled. Rather as one who faced the rage of the beast and shouted out victory for I am not of man who summon to defeat.


Saturday, August 6, 2011

The Faceless

The post is basically a response to a poem entitled The Faceless which was written by an unknown artist who I believe goes by the name Jemma. The part that is written in bold red italic font hugging the left side of the page - is the original poem. Personally, I feel as the bolded font should be read first - all at once - skipping over the regular font, just to get a feel of how strong the passage is. I would then go back and read the whole entire passage (original/response) together as a whole just as it is presented. I am considering this version as a self held conversation with oneself (individual is talking to themself) in order to get some form of clarification and strength as to what has taken place, is taking place, and will be taking place. It is written with regard towards domestic violence.



Is there help for the faceless ones
Or are they so cold and condemned
To the light of a dying star
That they're begging for the pain
Wanting to feel they should be ashamed
So they could believe they deserve their fate?
The fallen ones
The ones who won't come home

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Tha Hood's 'Sleep (Prologue)

Man, can't you hear the k-oz in the air. I'm not even gonna lie to you but the block is live. Everywhere I turn I see somebody doing and/or getting into something. Even when the atmosphere is crazy, you still could get that crunk, party, chilling type of vibe. It blows my mind though on how these fools could be tense and on edge yet still have a good time.

How in the hell I just passed these boys getting harrased by the cops and they gonna meet up with me at the park and try to counsel me.
"What's good 'Ma."
"It ain't nothing,  just maxing."
"Yeah, I feel you. You see that little shit that I got myself into, I saw how you looked at me when you walked by."
"Look it here man, I know how you get down. By the way, I don't see that shit. You ain't never disrespect me so we good."
"What you doing out here by yourself and looking like you wanna catch a case? Hold up, you good?"
So a couple more of his nigga joined. Conversation got redirected and was no longer geared towards me. I just sunk into the atmosphere, I needed that. I never told my peoples fuck it and just walk away. But I was so heated and about to lose my mind. Meeting up with these fool at the park actually helped ease my mind.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Dark Child (Prologue)

Sleep was okay today and yesterday wasn't that bad. I'm just so happy today's Monday. I'm so happy to be going to school. You just don't understand, I'm so hungry. I didn't expect school to be like this. I dont really fit in. Technically they said I was supposed to be five to start Kindergarten, so my father lied because I was only four.

< pause and thought to myself ... seriously, as if they dont have all the paper work for the next school year and if I'm turning five this summer they would still allow me to participate in summer school ... but whatever .. test my intelligence>

The summer was a hot summer like always, for some reason my household conditions got worst I wondered if I really was their birth child. Summer came and went, regular school started. Was placed in honors then removed for not enough space. Started given trouble in my regular class, wasn't being challenged. Use to tell the teacher I was smarter, I lead the class at times, just losing interest, my parents didn't know how to deal with me .... so the abuse, neglect took it turn for the worst.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Respect

Respect ..... how do one receive it, how do one give it, when should one give it, and how should one react when they do not receive it ..... ..does maintaining respect to those who disrespect you is in a way you disrespecting yourself for continuing to tolerate the disrespect

Respect is defined as
1. To recognize the worth, quality, importance, or magnitude of
2. A feeling of deference, approval, and liking
3. Willingness to show consideration or appreciation.