Hear What I Write

Writing has never felt like an option for me To compose my thoughts & ideas Into a structured form So that others can comprehend.

Just like for the longest, I felt That I didn’t have a home. Blessed enough to go to a house & bed With food on a table But never having that moment of clarity “Damn this is home, This is my escape from everything else”

To take me away from the Constant yelling, arguing between my folks. One threatening to take me to Texas The other tryna keep me here, While both not noticing that they Have forgotten where I was.

This time, not running to a room To lock myself away. Just once not to hear things falling to the ground Breaking, shattering, hoping it isn’t a body. Instead ran to this halfass tree house Where I can rely on myself. Envisioning for something different, Hoping for something different.

“Damn this is home, This is my escape from everything else”

It took me forever to learn how to walk. But it took me longer to learn how to walk away from all of this. When I was younger, I didn’t know what divorce was I did know that my folks slept in different rooms. This was made to be normal for me.

But soon someone else enter through That door, the same one That my father used to walk out on the rest of us. would be the same door that this Wanna be brash, silverfox Who I didn’t know, Will walk through the same door, and Revolve around treating the rest of us as merchandise, Used when we were convenient to his liking, Tossed aside when we were no longer useful.

“Damn this is home, This is my escape from everything else”

Again I ran, but this time There were no steps for me to reach for. The sky felt ever farther. No amount of reaching towards the skies So that I’d be in the clouds, Was a enough. All there was were these walls. All I could do was… ...turn on my playstation. But this mind-numbing coma wasn’t enough.

The only place left, Was where I went all the time School. At least this could be a sanctuary. Beyond this house & its boundaries.

Education began to expand my horizons. Learning that maybe One day I could leave. That maybe this stranger Will be able to call some place a home. but never understood on how this would happen.

“Damn this is home, This is my escape from everything else”

Because even there, All that surrounded me was The constant ridicule, Mocking, laughing, punches, Being tossed around for showing A slight interest in my studies.

So I’m sorry if I don’t talk about my past. I’m too busy moving forward. Reaching for the skies. On the constant swivel, Looking for a home. Keeping my head in the books, While my legs learned to run & carry the weight that my shoulders bore.

“Damn this is home, This is my escape from everything else”

Good things happens to those who wait, but if you really wanted something, go out for it and get it yourself.

A quote that I supposedly live by. But here I am, frozen. All I can think about is letting it go… Letting go of this fire, that gets my gears into motion. Burn up the track, knowing that I’m well oiled.

But this tin man, had this ambition that ever since I was a little rugrat, never asked questions but now I’m thinking it might have been bullshit.

There’s a difference if I was planning my next move. But I rather have my head on these fluffs that drift me into my next daze wishing, dreaming, of what could happen next. This trance that has me hypnotized. Got me thinking, waiting for the next curve, how do I drift into it seamlessly, before colliding into traffic and it’s too late.

Just moving along instead of making my next move. I’m rushing to class, glasses fogged up, deep inhales, another sip, hoping to find a spot in class where I can lay this troublesome mind of mine. But if I lay wrong, there goes a land mine.

This “education” laid to waste. As I layback, dreaming of what could be. Head always in the clouds, full of possibilities nebula of dreams, but not a single big bang that sets the universe in front of me.

Wasted before me, desecrated bottles upon bottles waiting on that message I yearn for. Not realizing that this waiting game needs to be stoop up by me. I’m not here to get operated on. This isn’t my ER room. Because I’m over getting fucked over by my own damn self.

Breathe easy. Close your eyes. This will be over in a bit. For those shattered hearts, this is for you.

The broken screen, bit of pieces falling too many to account for, but each piece is needed. This requires an assembly. Not for millions of people, but one with yourself.

Take a step back look at the damage that is left. Believe me, inventory is needed. Lift up your hand and with each finger count a blessing. I know that this is the last step, because I tend to work backwards when it comes stuff like this.

It isn’t just as simple as knowing that one day, you’ll be okay. That high tide has come over you to wash away your worries. But don’t forget to look what has been taken from you in comparison of what is left. A half moon is a still a moon and still capable of moving the waves, coming in for to cleanse.

Yelling out to the ocean, trying to reclaim what was taken. Everything besides the gasp of your voice is echoing. Nature is taking course. Not much to do, but let it do its thing. But empty out what’s in your heart. For a heavy heart is something you don’t sleep on.

Since you’ll be eaten from the inside out. Former feelings coming in for a crash at your shores. Brace yourself is just a saying. For your boat has its holes and there seems like nothing can be done. Except for trying to fix each hole before time is up, be overtaken by these flood of emotions, drowning in your sorrows, hoping to find a message from a bottle, and eventually ending up back on that evergreen of shore. But never thinking of how and when you got there, but damn, you’re glad to have found some ground again.

Or you try to find a way through these waves, hoping to see the guide that’ll light your way. Discovering other methods to patch these holes, to keep your head a float, find some room to breathe. Easy now, ride each wave as it comes, but ready for the next, with a curse to go with it. Along with a reminder of how you got there and where you need to be. But a foundation under some waves Seasickness is almost assured.

Words have always been somewhat difficult. Unless it came to writing it out, but even then, I can only say so much.

My actions are whole ‘nother story.

Because my mind & body are not always connected. While I drift away into the clouds, looking into a nebula to which I can call home. Seeking out the next idea to see through reality. Till I find some ground, because around the mountain, I find these brutalities forcing me to decide which side of the fence is greener.

But these comparisons, aren’t my reason. Since it’s my season I won’t fall for another lame trick that springs up on me. While this isn’t a summer lovin’ this winter storm is a-brewing so Imma come get what is mine. I’m not here to take yours but to gain my own. Because that’s the best kind of thanks to be given.

While my body goes to the beat of the song. Moving with emotion feelin’ the motions from the sound waves causin’ no commotion. Ridin’ with the flow don’t ask for no blow because there will be an elbow comin’ for ya instead.

2 different entities in 2 different worlds.

But when they come together, there’s a whole ‘nother tsunami coming. With a machine gun fire, that's raining on no parade but a focus similar to being on the coco, coco. Bring this batter up for the job that needs to hire. For this poor ol’ folk ain’t about to retire. The job isn’t done for good. This hunger isn’t quenched by food but this hustle, you see, is all I gotta do.

Give me wings and I'll forget what the ground is. I've spent too long thinking of what others think of me. Locking away a part of me, only to come out when it's time. But I've taken risk with horrible timing before, so what's the risk if I do it again?

Each night staying in a different bed Trying to find what is most comforting, Whether it be the sheet less bed to the hard floor of a tent down to the couch of my own “home” Sleep leaves me at night.

I can’t tell you for how long, nights have been counted as long sunless days where I can rest my eyes for what seems to be like only 20 mins but actually were about 5-6 give or take. I could tell you that restless nights were typical for a person like me. I’d be lying, just as I do at night.

Knowing that the time was coming, I knew that not for long I’d be leaving that coastal, bay weather back to the Central Valley heat. But it is much more than that. I was gonna be hoping for home to home. From the comfort of my room of this house that is to be called “my home”, back to the bay.

Aww thank you Anon!

This is one of those love letters to that special someone. There are many, very many possible reasons as to why I love you. But I chose to pick out the top reason as to why I do.

You see, I love how you walk around with that confidence that radiant off of you. To put it plainly, acting like you are THE boss ass bitch. Then with that walk you seem to add in that sarcastic tone and to add in your high energy it really is one of the funniest things some people hear and see.

You are one of the most genuine people to walk and breath. Aspiring myself to become a better person, to shape up the way I interact with people adding less of the cynical and add a bit more optimal positivity. Not only that genuine personality comes straight from that smile making it a very physical trait instead of a mental and emotional thought. To add more physicality to that embrace of security of yours that we like to call a hug, where clasped hands only interlock when it is behind the other person’s back.

While speaking of your personality, damn, you got one hell of a kind! Being able to befriend anyone without the click of that thumps ups that adds up to 25 friends friend liking it via the screen of the computer. More like that face to face interaction, that uses the language of the body and the tongue.

That mentality of yours to where you always stick to your guns. This stubbornness that leads to thick-headedness always seems to work since you never back down. When you are stepped up to by the disposition of others, you have no fear to speak of what is going on your mind, even if it is the confusion trying to make sense outta this person 2 cents. But you never fail to come to the aid of others when they need someone to lean on because they just can’t handle the weight no more.

You see this is why I love you. Nothing of your physical being, but not to say that you don’t have external beauty, since your beauty is amplified by the internal traits. But the thing is that this only makes sense because it’s these are the things that I wanna, not hate, but things I wanna change about myself. Since I have some things that I have to work on.

Because 1. I don’t walk like you. I don’t have the same amount of confidence in my walk, because I put my earphones to zone out the rest of the world just to hear my thoughts be carried off in the wind.

2. I’m only hyped up on energy and emotion because it is my form of cry for help and attention. Just to have another person pay some attention to me so I don’t feel oh so alone.

3. My optimism is just to tell myself the cliché, things will get better. Never think that the night is too long and the sun will never come up. To give hope to myself. I don’t want to change this because I’m happy cause of it.

4. The tight hugs I give just to let the let the other person know that I exist that I am walking with them on their path. May we come across each other once more, but also to give me the warmth of another person to help me cope with my confinement. Also to reassure myself that there aren’t too many knives in back from friendships that make me sink as the Titanic.

And this rings in 5. My genuineness is really a front. I’ve back myself into a room where I’m in solidarity confinement. But there is a door so people can come in and out as the please, but I seem to stop doing so myself.

6. I’ve lost my way to interact with people in person. Take me back a few years ago and I was a pro when it came to talking to another in person. Now I'm using the crutch of this technological advancement forgetting of my humanity.

7. This thick-headedness, just to get my point across. To make a debate of debatable things just to have a bit more of that interaction that we all yearn for.

Finally ending this list on 8. Helping others through tough times just to feel assure that hopefully someone will come when I need the help but I’ve learn better and stand on my own 2 broken down feet.

This goes to the boy who believed in imagination was his power, decided not to believe in the corruption of society, who wanted to be one thing when he reached the same age that I am now and follow that path no matter what got in the way. That is to be a Power Ranger, but in reality that’s what made him happy, and that what he aimed for.

You see, growing up in a household where you’re not allowed to speak the language you knew best, you did the best that you could to get on by. Hell, I couldn’t communicate with the rest, but I had my toys but most of all the ideas circling in my head from watching Power Rangers, Dragon Ball Z, Digimon, and I can keep going on with the Saturday morning line up that I watched as if it were my religion.

The funny thing is, I grew up learning the values I have from these shows, fight only to protect what you love, Dragon Ball Z, be kind to others & they’ll help you out, Digimon. All these things that never stuck when I would kneel at the altar and pray to the Father to be forgiven because it was human nature that we were corrupt. I couldn’t even tell you how old I was, but that was the most I could remember about being in church.

Even now, after confirming to be a soldier of the Lord I continue to learn from my addictions rather than the scriptures Naruto, Doctor Who, How I Met Your Mother, my list of fandoms will continue on to the horizon. Many will find salvation through religion but that’s not the only way, believe me I’m a survivor. I’m not saying religion is evil and corrupt but don’t follow something because you’ve been forced to ever since you can remember and it’s routine. Don’t be afraid to branch out and expand the horizon of your views.

“We conclude that in the field of public education, the doctrine of ‘separate but equal’ has no place”- Brown vs. Board of Education, May 17, 1954.

this was the final verdict was that school will be segregated, because separate but equal schools were unequal and unconstitutional Was it really one person daring enough to go against the board or was it the foretelling of our time that every brown person will have a fight against the system because look around, how many different variation shades of brown are in your classroom? Now let’s compare that to the amount of white students in the class. Not to hate on those lucky ones, but look at what the system decided to do. Was the verdict ever enforced in our education system?

Because barely around 4% of this student population that are African-American might say, yes. Yes, since they are one of the few that received that acceptance letter. Another 30% that is our Chican@/Latin@ population saying they can’t leave home cause the price of tuition is too high and they’re needed at home to support the family. But hey, here we are saying every time when Friday rolls around with the weekend “turn down for what? turn up!”

But at the same time, another person of color is sent away for 10-20 years or a lifetime because they were following the status quo, thuggin’ it , pimpin’ it, just for some cash, just to get some kush, or trying to find ends meet because they couldn’t be a part of the 4% in this college being able to make a difference in their life and for the children to come. Or back in the fields slaving way for a meager check that can barely get enough on the table all the while paying for bills.

I just wanna write. Writing makes it all better. Making it feel that reality is a twisted up fantasy. The nightmare that came to life. Well Jason is my partner, time to get Freddy outta here.

Bring my own fantasies to reality. The realm of make believe or more like make the realm believe. but to believe in what? Well… to believe in yourself, if you can’t believe in you, who will?

To create a believer  outta those who keep doubting your success. But most of all, make those believe in hope again. A blinding light that creates a road for those who need help to find the path back.

Flying around in the TARDIS giving hope to all those who have the whooshing sound ring in their ears that have each end of their smile. This pen is my sonic that processes the situation and gives me the ability to find the solution. No, not that alcohol is the way to go, but it is one hell of a way to go though! Put that piece down as well, cause that ain’t the way. I’m no Doctor, but I’ll try to do you some justice.

Really?? Thanks Anon!

This rata-tata, the banging end on the cracked pavement that’s free flowing, free falling to test Newton’s Laws. This pitter-patter that coast along the rigid surface brings some notice to the furry little ones that are in range. They skate along the surface wondering that if this duo, that makes the ruckus in their ears gives them a beat.

This beat that transcends over the clamor in the room full of giants that scrapes over the skies, allows these pair of mice something to groove to. Circling around the corridor, circling around one another in their waltz of time, not wanting for their dance to end.

A step outside to the larger world, awaiting for Dusk to kiss Night away along the horizon that brings up a new day. Along the horizon is the blinding light that silences the room in a single eternal moment of time. The music fades out as the light fades into the corridor while the shadows hurry along before they’re caught.

At a loss of words,  I can speak of the matter that is on my mind but when it comes down to writing it out my spoken words just stay at that. Spoken words but those are unheard of by another.

Through a vow made long ago,  hopefully my silence speaks the truth. Having realized that I am no longer there by your side or you by mine traveling this together,  not as lovers but as companions of the best kind.

Our interaction is being made scarcer  alongside with the fossil fuels that keep disappearing  along through the free flowing wind of the spring. A decision that we would have not let happened, not to long ago, but as time moved a long, so did we.

We moved along from one another to clubs we joined to other people to see but always came back to see how the other was doing. I guess that this is not one of those times. We are no longer in high school and  can hope that a break out in song  it will point out our problems to help solve them.

Playful words are what follows not to cause much disarray and not to bring up much alarm. Just for shits and giggles of what one may find displeasing of one self but what others define otherwise,  just for a minute or so but at least one thought.

For others to bring up for a foolish and trivial idea may not be given a thought or two at first or ever again but to be constantly brought back and forth, as the perpetual swing of a grandfather clock, in the midst of conversation can cause worry to one.

Since they have played along for such a time now, almost an eternity or so it seems since the last stroke of this never ending predictable broken record player. Can one be sour and break up this Kit Kat bar of fun of their friends’? Just because they don’t want any of it anymore,  because hey, it was funny for a round or 2 and is it a problem to go for another 5 to 10, because what is another kick to already broken down horse?

Going to college to become an educated gentlemen, But what is an educated gentlemen? A man who knows a lot about a little. A man who has everything and nothing, Sitting in clouds drifting over Wall Street.

[Brian] While a violinist below clad in clad in ragged, patched-up dreams Rosins up his life and plays symphonies for strangers, Trying to reach into their souls and pull out shreds of stories, Never looking down at the lone dollar fluttering around In his open case, left there by a man who said, " Yes, I seen myself in your strings While you take everything that makes me want to scream an make it sing!" The violinist gives him a curt nod even as his fingers cramp From icy and damp winds carrying his passion and truth Into the shadows of Harlem. Way up inside a glass castle looming over the stratosphere, Shells in suits convene in heated rooms to discuss Profits and strategies and allowances, because The dollar is always greener in yachts and Malibu beach houses.

[Devonn] Through a back alley gutter sitting on a cardboard box The ears of a child tinted pink hearing the melody Of one who can truly speak his soul, Watching everyday the sights of a grimy and shit-stained future, A man who could be his long-lost father stands on the corner Selling bags of temporary happiness to a woman Who looks like bones and reeks like death, Clinging to the knees of this street-corner messiah. The little one watches with his best friend in his arms, A decrepit Nikon camera, Together they traverse dark roads leading to a truth That everyone sees and choose to lie away, And with each click of his camera he captures Shattered past, empty presents, and bleak future. He is an artist, Speaking for the voiceless, Lifting up the beaten, and shedding light onto those who lost their way. His only salary is his spirit, And is bonus is a pair of wings That carry him into endless skies.