Thursday, December 16, 2010

Flash Fiction: The Soaring


She heard the mailman leave five minutes prior. How did she know it was him? The angry bell on the mailbox sounded whenever it was opened and closed. Afterwards, Raven Burke walked out of the front door to mailbox on the other side of the sidewalk near her home on Jericho Way. The mailbox was a twenty-five foot journey Rachel took daily.

A block away an elderly man named Chuck Perry was driving a U-Haul truck safely but with eagerness. The morning streets in the small town of Warrenville, California was as smooth an empty sheet of clean paper as he drove with wanting. Granted the old man's new green house on Jericho Way hadn't feet to walk; nevertheless, Chuck couldn't halt the stampede of his heart's impatience. He'd just signed the documents granting him ownership of the home. Not often does a man own property, let alone an old black man at 85 years young. And since no one was on the road he sped faster to shave his patience by seconds.

Now Chuck's speed increase was perfect and easy when he bent the corner of Jericho Way. But his cellphone's ringing spooked him slightly and quickly, he grab the it from the passenger seat while he finish bending the corner on Jericho Way.

"Hello?" He answered before bringing the phone to his ear. What happened next requested the attention. For the premature hello prior to the phone meeting his ear delayed his eye's return to the road, where a woman stood at a mailbox in front of him. The truck finished rounding the corner and began rushing in pursuit of her safety; it was Raven. Chuck immediately dropped the phone near his feet and he slammed the brakes while assessing the honesty of the steering wheel to no avail. Raven pulled the mailbox's handle and reached inside in time to be startled by tires screaming as a hungry child. And when the truck attacked her, she was sent twenty-six feet in the air.

It seemed an eternity but the truck finally stopped.
The screaming tires hushed.
Raven continued flying.
Chuck witnessed her amazing soar.
Raven finally dropped from the air like a bird killed in mid flight.
The old man lost his breath.
Raven slammed on the sidewalk and Chuck died immediately following.

The death of Chuck came not by injury, for he hadn't one bruise or scratch. But his old heart closed silent the moment Raven's body slammed on the sidewalk. For right before they died he bore witness of a miracle, one of few he'd ever encountered in his long life. He became an eyewitness of a black woman flying without wings. And in mid-flight her eyes met his eyes in fear minutes before both met the eyes of God.

Love: Once Removed



Loving isn't problematic, commitment is... but take not confusion my love. Faithfulness is comfortable, but presently selfishness has heavier interests than that of a romance once removed.

The education of self-love my dear.
To harvest wisdom..
The esteem of me,
-- this is my goal.

So if/when the moment presents me a sharing of myself then I'd be able. The extension of love then would be through mastering the routine of self acknowledgment. So, verily I say, you're granted a pardon from a heartbreak. For a yes to us is a no implied to the me. Indeed, this would be a harsh no to the root of my certainty:

I Am That I Am... Even if I'm alone...

Writing: The Promise

I need to get back to blogging!  I will... I promise.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

You Are Here



An unfortunate thing to say?
"I'm not where I'm suppose be but I'm not where I use to be."
Does this not alleviate progress?
Perspectively?

It's this simple:
If your planted feet are no longer on previous ground...
...then you must be in the exact location God has scheduled?
Right?

Where you are now, God has circled in his day planner!

Be Blessed.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Paralyzed: An Ode to Toni Morrison


Will you accept a gift?
A gift to give folly importance?
This gift to give names to noun?
A fine gift to make adjectives successors?

Will you?

And if unwrapped notice the gift is familiar.
Words you've written, I've read and altered very little.
They have not made a void returned, you see?
Therefore, with pleasure to undue my commonness, I bind these words and present them to you.

I explain:

I have buried my mind in deep holes of God's schemes, longing for my name.
And was flattered when my moons were brightened and prophesied through teeth of preaching elders with smooth hands.
With this, is it strange my name was found in death?
At the dancing feet of a mother on fire?

Verily my name unfolded in Sula's stillness.
As the fire sparks that embraced her mother greeted Sula's open eyes.
T'was on that page of Hannah's last breath a revealing of my birth; a reason.
I was born to write.

The convincing part is I'd watched Hannah burning not because I was paralyzed...
...but because I was interested.

Will you accept a gift?
... to give folly importance?
... to give names to noun?
... to allow me to be your successor?

Friday, July 9, 2010

The Pie



On the table there's a dish...
On that dish... a piece of pie sits.
See it?
The green dish.
No, the other one.
The one garnished with the small olive branch?
See it?
Yes, that one.
Its yours.


It took a few broad laborious scores to make that pie.
Humble.


The sundry ingredients were harmoniously contrary:

  • Diced apology
  • A thimble of sugar
  • One fourth cup of flour
  • A tablespoon of shame
  • And honey, a finger full directly from the angry hive

In a foggy bowl they were given into marriage.
A mixing... my mixing... through my palm's laboring strokes.
Soft strokes.
...which continued until time held her breath.
Or truth choke her.
Something was absence.
So....

I ceased the mixing and place the bowl in the clearing and waited all night until...


The morning...
... when the clearing led to a pantry behind the dawn.
A discovery.
A large bottle labelled PRIDE, which I moved aside and there it was...
A smaller bottle same to the larger with brown, black, and green label, however.
With a name ending in two R's.
I opened the top and inhaled.


Mmm... Smells nice.


The bottle's content was a secret.
The missing link.
I finished...
And now it's finally done for you.
An humble pie.


Only we know the mystery.
Our own language.
I see you smiled at the "two R's".


I made it for you baby.
It took scores.... baked slow.
Real slow...


Look on that dish.
No, not that one, the other one.
The green one --


... with the olive branch.



Sunday, June 27, 2010

Fantasia - Control Freak (Music Video [Fan-Made])

Fantasia is one of the most underrated artist of this time and it stops nothing. Not even my love for her. This song, Control Freak, I happened upon browsing the net and enjoyed it thoroughly. Fully aware a video will never be made for this song I took the liberty of creating my own. These are three of Fantasia's videos: When I See You, Bittersweet, and Truth Is made into a music video I desired for my own enjoyment. And now I gift you with the outcome. Hope you like.

Until Next Time.

Monday, June 14, 2010

I Need You To Survive

There is so much we need to learn, so many resources that we can use in order to understand this development of our humanity and it's boggling the selfishness and the lack of consideration running rampant in people. What happen to the dream of Dr. King? What happen to the struggle of the slave? What does it mean to you?

Typically our prayer are self-centered demands to God to rid of us of all the trials and tribulations come upon us so we can live a stress free life. Get over it!!!! You are not going to live a stress free life in a selfish world; it's crazy to think it. Therefore, why don't we think of our struggles as a milestone to greatness or an apex of merit only we can conquer in order to be qualified candidates to fulfill the destiny set before us? Let's use our prayers as weapon of warfare. We don't struggle against humanity but we struggle against the spiritual puppeteers encamped about us. That's why it's so hard for us to do good things, because, "when [we] think to do good, evil is ever present."

I have an idea:

Why don't we collectively use our prayer a weapons of mass protection. Unselfishly bridge the gap between our unpaid light bills and the woman struggling with the issue of abortion. Selflessly transforming our Thank You Jesus into I Appreciate What You've Already Done!

I don't know, maybe it's a weird concept, but I think it might work. How better to touch God than to act selflessly? Dr. King did with the power of his assassination and became as prominent as any American figure to date. The slaves exemplified it by Stealing Away to Jesus in an attempt to gain northern bound freedom. Christ even did it with the redemption of Calvary!

Am I being too preachy? Is preachy even a word? Maybe! I just want to live in a world where I feel at peace knowing someone is praying for me, because I'm praying for you. I hope you find comfort in knowing I want you to be o.k. I got an idea I think would work:

How about?

I pray for you?

You pray for me!

Because, I love you...

I need you to survive!

Until Next Time!


[written 12/30/2007 -- 12:59 a.m.]

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Butterscotch

As a child I was fascinated by the melody of candy

2was a sweet rhythm in tune with the harmony in my young heart.

Someone has caught the nostalgia of candy's era

My fascination has been restored in grooves of:

A motion

A gaze

A statement of reassurance

Newness!

I can taste the sugar speck

One so good I tilt my head softly and breeeeathe

Close my eyes and induuulge

Release a declaration of jubilation:

"I love this candy!"

Recalling my memory of...

A childhood long forgotten

A tomorrow I didn't want to face but must conquer.

My future's in this candy,

Somewhere in the newness of it's arrival

I wasn't expecting but it came like a thief in the night

My soul was afire and it blew a cool wind in my burning soul

It motioned to me a 'come hither' wave

Gazed at me with a look of love

Lectured deliverance to my heart

Mmmm...

Inside of this candy was the answer to:

My Whys!

My Woes!

My Whats!

Within the dream was the sweetness of sugar; nevertheless, the outside is hard and comes in the form of

ButterScotch …



[written: 02/04/2007]


Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Aaliyah - Rock The Boat (@B_Ames Remix)

There no mistaking she was, of course, beautiful. The description beautiful maybe understating the obvious. And a near decade disappeared, yet, her spirit lingers in a way which seems relevant.

B. Ames remixed Aaliyah's Rock The Boat. Brilliant is his fashion of remixing, I deeply loved it when first heard. The moment I'd found a video, right for editing purposes, I made this video. Hope you enjoy.


Saturday, June 5, 2010

Whitney Houston - You Give Good Love (B_Ames Vogue Remix)

[click on the picture to visit his YouTube music page]

He's enormously talented and becoming a quick favorite of mine.  Not because his vogue mixes slay but he has an ear for it.   The ear to compose makes him special.  Most surprising, he's not famous, which is hard to believe due to his genius.  He is also  a good person.  I merely asked if he could remix Whitney Houston's "You Give Good Love," and he's completed the track in two days.  What a good person!

So without further adieu, this is my favorite song of all time remixed by the talented B. Ames, a new friend of mine.   I hope you like it because I love it. 

Friday, June 4, 2010

When Friendship Goes Bad!


To me, friendship has solid importance. To be take as serious as any other situation of love. My relationships with my siblings are air-tight (that's us in the above picture). Perhaps the seriousness is rooted there. The premise of my relationships, personal or intimate, was solidified by my siblings. For it is by this dynamic I'd found my place in the scheme of life. Therefore, the creation of friendship, for me, is mirrored by the paradigm of family. It is gold. And a portion of my spirit enters into the relationship tying us by the confidence of love and selflessness. If by the name 'friend' I address, then I consider this 'friendship' set apart from the rest. Something like holiness.

Without question, a share of disappoint is given in unions with attached emotions; none are exempt. Disappointment may not be voluntarily conjured but the comfortable parts of man finds inconvenience in compromise. Moreover, it is clear even friendships are affected with degrees of turbulence. I know and am use it. But there is one friendship in my life that seems wasted with a lack of consideration.

The cordial nature of this friendship in question feels less friendly, more aggressive. As if we battle for 'brotherhood' but losing to fate. Unnatural is the feeling. Only dealing because of history and not for what we can provide for one another. From this; an epiphany: whenever situations of any fashion transcends inconvenience and becomes, "why are we even friends?" Take action. Don't maintain a situation which doesn't work for you because it work for another. And likewise, don't perpetuate a severed situation... for broken wounds bleed.

The moral of the story is simple:

Friendship is responsibility. Responsibilities are as priorities. If the balance of this priority is heavy or can't be handled with fairness, for the sake of all involved; LEAVE IT BE! Disappointment is a marker of a heart wounded.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Nicki Minaj - Massive Attack (@B_Ames Remix)



Unappealing initially, I felt the song too messy. Personally, I thought it not constructed in "song" fashion. The song; however, grew on me the second I found B. Ames' remix. B. Ames reminds me of hot sauce. Regardless the quality of meat, he can make it taste better.

Friday, May 7, 2010

Love Looks Like Wal-Mart





Two things happened today:

1. I went Mother's Day Shopping and those tasks are complete.
2. And I got my heartbroken. But I did it myself.

Before
I allow anyone to use me for even benign motives.
Before a toxic situation pollutes progress.

And...
Before words become a reason.
I
WILL
GIVE
UP
And that's just what I did. Gave it up.

God has been this good: he's given me enough discernment to determine a dead-end. Wherever a road ends, generally there's no civilization beyond it. Where there is no civilization, there is no life.

So you must Look.
Listen.
Be Aware.
Turn around.
And get back on track.

I truly thought I was in love.
But was only imagining.
Love doesn't look like desire.
Desire implies lack.
Love is perfect.
Whole.
Complete.
Love looks something like Wal-Mart.
Much of what you need... is right there.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Paula Abdul's American Idol




Paula Abdul's feedback bordered craziness by the end of her run. Neurotic and scattered, and at times, it was painful watching her attempt to articulate a criticism. Like watching someone running down the street naked with a wedding veil. I would say, "I'm sorry, what just happened?"

But...

Is it me or does her absence expose a clear folly at the judges table? No shade to the current panel but Paula Abdul presented a knowing to the panel. A balance. Considering she is performer (regardless the lack of vocal strength), her advice came by the success of her musical relationship with America. Having been a success and a failure, her advice emerged from a different place of observation and proved to be beneficial.

"Your lower register is your money. Use that," she'd say. "There was joy in that performance. Keep the joy but try another emotion." I enjoyed her actual advice.

Currently, we have Kara saying, "You should have sung something by Rihanna or Beyonce." Excuse me? Don't do that! When advice comes by example people will chose by that limitation, especially contestants who are vulnerable and desire to please. Everyone doesn't have the articulation of Beyonce or the stage presence of Rihanna. These kinds of comparison murder individuality. Allow them to choose their song and suck on their own. Judge only that performance and move on. These tactics have even filtered into Simon's comments, "I wish I was picking your songs for you." Why? Don't do that?

I choose sinking my own ship and reflecting my own craziness and wouldn't whole-heartedly take advice from judges who listen by the ear of entertain and not vocal structure. Just tell me I sucked and lower the song's key. Don't tell me I sucked but I would suck less if I'd sung Aeorsmith.

Don't do that!

Where's Paula?

Whitney Houston - Lights and A Mic

There are sections in history when musical importance was the only importance. An artist could mount platforms with three background singers, a piano and sing without the production of dancers. Whitney Houston was this kind of singer. You don't get vocals like this.

Music was easy then; simple even. Heartfelt and soulful. Back when singers needed not the grand stage production. Only lights and a mic.

Lady Gaga & Beyonce - Telephone (Video Edit Music Only)



Watching Lady Gaga's video "Telephone" featuring Beyonce was confusing. The music, dancing and imagery was excellent, close to brilliant. The plot structure, however, was (almost) non-existence. If a story isn't clear in the telling, the teller entertains themselves only. So, considering storytelling is important to me, I'm convinced one has to be a fan to understand videos nowadays. No Shade. Over all it was a good video.

Desiring to understand the video I performed an edit. Without speaking parts or abrupt pauses, I wanted to observe the video with music only. I loved it.
It is as follows:

Monday, March 8, 2010

#RelationshipRules (Snug Tight)


Twitter's hashtag, #RelationshipRules is interesting. With no interest of participating in a relationships, the interest snuggles in the if. The supposition. Presumption. What would be a rule for me (if I were interested)?

Well...

Someone who chooses water over soda; ale over liquor; wheat over white. These are examples, not deal breakers. Could I love someone who drinks soda? With certainty. Make a choice, however, which says, "I care."

Someone who (again, snug in the interest of supposing) sees me beyond thought or perspective and as an
addition to the sum of their life and not the sum. Indeed, the one I want to love must have inner love. Not narcissism or conceit. Who assesses the cost of self-esteem and pays only in the silent acts of wisdom. You know? The operation of passion.

Someone who lives life as an experience and
not a chore. These would be the foundation of my rule for relationships.

Until Next Time

Friday, March 5, 2010

I'm Back (I Think)


Inquiries of my blogs (or its lack of entries) are yet ample. I generally enjoy writing large articulations of thought but as of late, I've lacked writing drive and have only little to say but have found: the voice that says little has the burden of a hundred miles.

So to assist progress, I must write according to universal command. Not by drive, which only matters in passion. But by calling, who needs not match to ignite purpose. The fire of a calling burns because it alone is a flame.

The attempt is to pen the paper either everyday or every other day. Small notions, idea, opinions, judgments, reasonings and the like, which may be no longer than a paragraph but it'll maintain my fire. This is only a goal.

Until Next Time