My dilemma

My dilemma

How do I get from me

To Ellison?

His writing

Was so tighten

In its structure.

How the hell do I reach that plateau

Without losing the academic

Prowess.

Feeling and energy of such art is my cross to bare.

Because it lies in contrary to

Academic structure.

To me the music

In literature is found in Ralph Ellison writings.

If I had been able to do anything but write

I would be a musician.

A physician of notes

That carried boats and boats

Across the river

To deliver its message upon the

Banks of the big city.

Each's own Path To Happiness

Its true that each piece

pieces together puzzles

left behind

after life pisses

them out

all over the population

collective perspective.

"I just want to live"

says the defendant in this trial

of tribulations.

But that statement gets lost

or tossed

in the hustle, bustle of

life's situation

or redundant

masturbation.

Satisfaction should not be quick,

it should be long-lived.

It should be in every breath

every note,

every word,

every Love.

The Base of your Foundation

To kill a mockingbird

these talking 11 herbs

and spices

Entices my hunger

for transparency in

life trials.

Spoken words climbing up

the slippery slope of false pretenses

my sense reacts

since yours does not.

Maybe that is why each perspective is

different.

Just as long as the true

few who see the big picture

understand that the switch hitter

usually find themselves

with no team to play for.

Your reflection

is not what you saw before,

before the contradictions

of contrary quotable's

shook your foundation

the base that was based

upon a slippery slope fruitless

soil.

Mental Tangent

Mental Tangent

Its a must

that you trust

the fact the when backs are against

the wall, the truisms of each nature's ideology

will emerge.

Allowing this small part of a personality

to control the larger

is the slippery-slope that us

as human beings have been struggling with throughout

evolution.

So, so called solution have been concocted

by men to structure life

with such paths in which

to reach enlightenment.

Solution are not man-made,

It's higher.

To illustrate the big picture

or explain the difference between

each fixture of philosophy,

one must first grasp

the difference between religion and spirituality,

then next step is understanding

where your personal destination lies.

Trying does nothing

but pull you into a cycle of never

completing,

just the juggling of many eggs

without cooking your first omelet.

'I just want to live'

is not sufficient anymore.

And live to do what?

Exist?

Well, choice is all we have
and whatever your decision is

the consequence sinks or swims

in the waters of personal fulfillment.

No scapegoating per the

outcomes

Only the standing on top

of each damn we construct

and finding out if the holes

are small enough to

not drown one in the vast waters of life.

Learning on the fly

I taste life

as I race life.

Strife is only a word

to curb one's enthusiasm.

So why can't I exhale?

I inhale enough for the masses,

and everyone has something to say,

but is listening,

at times when you need to speak up,

TOO MUCH LISTENING.

When is it right to speak,

and suppress the leak

of the person,

who is

at that moment releasing

Carbon from their mouth

in order to instruct

and choke the life out of your creativity.

When does time and independence meet?

Hopefully not permiting

defeat

to rear it's ugly head up into the mix.

For then the infection spreads

throughout your body,

mind,

spirit and inevitable your identity.

It is that thief in the night

that plagues us all

but knowing yourself is knowing when

to fall to the waste-side of that road

and form your own path

paved by uniqueness and creativity.

Dreams and Aspirations

What gets me

is the way the vibe

tempts me

into new proclamations.

I proclaim that this

ride has not settled

into comfortability.

I only find the ability

of each bump to do

nothing more than act as

a stepping stone to the

light.

The light at the end

of all of our journeys.

You know the

place

deep down where we

spend all our excess

energy trying to convince ourselves

that we are not worthy.

I am

and I now stand firm

to be

beat down by any

persons perspectives.

Fear is not an option,

for I just try to understand

the source.

Who is the true person

who intends to distort my focus.

friend or foe

it is a battle that we all must

fight and differentiate between.

Constructive is okay

but understanding the difference

between that

and what is meant to

construct an uncrossable

bridge between a person and their aspirations

is hard.

No answers lie

in the text of this ramble

but the truth lies in each person.

Dig deep and find your truth,

it starts with analyzing oneself.

Destination Paved By this Man

Trying to find the

destinations in which tedious

talkative transvestites

are in the midst

of taking me.

What destination is the pendulum

going to swing next

can I text you the answer

or is it against the rules

Of engagement.

For my thoughts tend to refocus

to engage the mind and spirit,

the car in which I steer

it can be out of focus

for many to see coming,

but I assure you it's there.

Clothes make the man,

so they say,

but I say

how the clothes

shall tailor to me.

I am a man

hear me roar,

but understanding

that when I speak up,

my awareness of the consequences

have already peaked.

I accept my bark, bite and

any confrontational

altercations that they generate

That is why I call myself MAN.

Distraction vs. Destination

days and days

of phrased praise.

One understands words

but sometimes the meaning

escapes the natural curve

of reality.

I just try to walk and

not stumble off the

path of righteousness.

But buses and buses

of people keep

side-swiping me

spinning my focus in a different

direction from the

end of this journey.

the choice,

though,

is mine,

for by allowing the

distraction of others directions

to intertwine with my mind

fault lies within this spine.

It is mine to grasp and hold

onto,

for every wasted distraction

gives me more

clarity to finish this journey

when hurdles are passed

and the path

allows my vision to once more grasp.

A quick release from the brain

It seems

that my dreams have

become a parallel

track.

I stay still waiting for

the next realm of

reality to rear it's ugly head.

Instead there is a dead

kind of perspective

that puts my mind to

a future dread.

My thoughts have been tortured.

my fortune sits on the outskirts of

my being,

Finally seeing things

for how they should be.

Finally planting a tree of thought

who's roots

spread throughout

mother nature,

supplying a new foundation of

new thought throughout the nation.

What Glissens doesn't always Glow

It shimmers like tiny little diamonds

being mulnipulated by suns kisses,

oh how wet it is.

Wrap yourself around the world

with love so the lands can flourish as proof.

The sands of time are plentiful here,

in my quiet space.

But placed outside this bubble

children make their presence known.

It is shown more

blatantly to those

without mini-me's running around.

What a difference a day makes
Or should I say night?

For, that is when the freaks come out

to sip on dark stouts of

beer.

And get drunk enough

to blame all value driven decisions

on the goose.

Who talks to his cousin

the stork,
and enlightens him

to deliver the news in

nine months.

I feel like Warren G

"Can you see what I see?"

And I see that my sour

disposition

keeps me on the outside position

of societies conformist addiction.

Sometimes the awareness

of such contradictions

allow for growth.

Between a Rock and Hard Place

Sometimes it feel like

the smothering of corruption

has no end.

Or no friends,

for the trust is gone

and the spawn from two

cut throats cannot exist.

I resist to go to far off this cliff

or slippery slope for the rope has gotten

too narrow and seemly to

support my weight.

Yes, because,

plates I've ate

and satisfaction comes to the

hare.

Daring not to partake in desert

for it

does not preserve our

light at the end of

the tunnel.

And yet I see that

our nations tunnel

is going from a sphere

to a box.

But my soul will not let you

box me in

for I'm an Individual.

So your residual accountability

lies within the text

who's purpose is to put

you in between a place of

mental security and being emotionally

vexed.

YOU FIGURE OUT THE REST.

John Coltrane

These cold-trains

of thoughts

causes conniption fits

across my cerebral cortex.

I wish to lie down

in the vortex

of warm actions.

Contractions from unspoken

verbal interactions

derived from venus's

flytrap.

Can you feel the rhythm

of the night,

the nights twilight

has burned a hole

into the soles of my feet.

I keep tapping,

enjoying the flow

of fluidity from the Sex.

I mean Sax,

for it reaches to such a heights and stays there .

NYC Experience

Conceptual rhythms oppose each other

through this atmospheric communication

in which

all walks are conditioned.

But there's friction in these steps,

steps that are paced a little

too close together.

A war of intelligence,

at odds,

but it's important to continue

to go through the motions.

Over-whelming is this

city within a city.

No concrete should

elude to the idea that it is

possible to confine these differences.

I've seen so much now

embracing everything and nothing

at all.

I keep my eyes on the prize.

But fires surrounded by

tenderness continues to rise.

And this great stature

I have risen to,

has started to decline

with every glance.

So, yes

this perimeter is trying to capture

My vision.

These four angles of indecision

allow

Every angle in this box

to in finality

double my sentence

to 90 years

of a narrow point of view.

Worlds of Creativity Seem bigger than the Mind

Sounds of gray

move through my atmosphere,

which I fear translates into music,

but no words.

Whispers,

only of notes that leaves

its mark on my thoughts.

I bought wine in order

to translate them.

The jazz had changed my focus

I wanted to feel my space

like locusts.

And touch the clouds.

I just wanted to understand how

it feels to cry,

and fly higher than I expected.

But the words never get me there,

So now,

I spare none,

They run along this sentence

with reckless abandonment,

opposing all editors,

or judgments in general.

I am now just trying to translate

and condense onto a plate

what goes on

into the head of a man

trying to live and love life's

changes in all it's forms.

Spirituality vs. The World

Just a spoon full

of sugar helps the medicine go down.

But the town

or temple in which I call my body

cannot digest this temporary

cure.

While intentions may be pure,

I fear that this overshadowed

sweetness is just a bandaid

to filter or air-raid

the total truth that

spills from my mind.

I find that words

coming from you,

trying to sell me a dream

seems far from

my state

of mind's place

in this debate of world versus

spirituality.

I guess

as of late, my perception

relies on actions instead of words.

I'm lie tired

of linguistic patterns urging me this way or that.

Facts should swim in

Holy Water.

But how Holy is this Water.

I can't call it,

It's up to you to fall into it

and see where your truth lies.

The surprise of this all

is to be human

is to be different,

So understand that truth,

and make a choice.

Opinions of others will not Suffocate Me

Pissing in piss poor

potholes of indecision

is what every word that

biased intellect did.

So I reflect on times

when my temperature was

tip-toeing on the

line between hot and cold.

A time when thought

was an absolute conclusion.

Not a boat caught in

a brain-storm

of second thinking.

I know there's

a light-house to

bring me to shore.

An idealistic light-bulb

constantly abright.

Not flickering

because the surrounding

Ideas are taking it's energy.

I will stand alone

in the atonement of these ideals.

Hills of public opinion

will not hold sway

on future days of my

renewed prospective.

But I will listen

for without new conversations

can one progress past their own nose.

New Years 2010

My taste buds are tickled

by transparent bubbles

bursting and oozing

its farewell to last year,

promising a better one to come.

The Prosecco continues

its journey down my throat,

allowing me to feel everything.

My senses welcome you,

new dawn,

So allow the earth

and everyone on it to

soak you up.

But while the world

enjoys the moment

my mind races past

to the future.

The questions will be

answered eventually,

and eventually these

answered questions will leave me

understanding that with contentment

there is no progression.