Convince & Repeat

I’ve been away…

To deal with my affliction, as self diagnosed. However, I believe any clinical psychiatrist would agree. I don’t hear voices, but I must be insane. Truly, I must be. I mean, lots of artists & writers have dealt with mental illness. All the symptoms are there. The feelings of deja vu, repeating the same actions and expecting different results.

The adversity arises, year after year. I defeat it, send it back into the depths of obscurity and celebrate myself as cured. Things return to status quo for months, quarters at a time until the affliction returns to my realm.

Upon each return, it is more difficult to defeat than the last time. I’ve reached a point where I almost need it in my life, to feel normal, otherwise I’m a zombie…. lifeless and emotionless everyday, until it returns.

I receive nothing from it, instead I sacrifice who I am, my sanity as a whole… to appease…

… and to return to distant memories of when the affliction was but a flutter of naivety. Things weren’t always this way. But they have been, for quite some time now, the same. And as the affliction comes and goes, as does a piece of me each transition.

 

Photo Cred: Damian Michaels – The Road to Madness

Unhappy Fools

Wisdom is only gained through life experiences. Amidst the folly of youth, it’s often assumed that wisdom will be gained later in life. But sometimes, it is not. There are both young & old fools in the world. What is it that prevents a young fool from becoming a wise elder? Is it destiny? Or perhaps a curse of sorts, bestowed upon the young fool?

Bad decision after bad decision, repeating the same actions and hoping for different results. Isn’t that insanity? Or is it stupidity? Either way, eventually, the cycle should break… Right? After so many failures the pressure intensifies, weighing on one’s psyche. Insomnia and depression would be understandable, yet blissful ignorance only dulls the warning signs. How? 

If one cannot please one’s self, why instead is their happiness traded for the approval of others? A greek chorus of negative, miserable spectators never pleased with the events of the show. A petulant paparazzi encouraging and admiring only the worst behaviors.

Begin to value yourself. Eliminate drama. Ignore your foolish pride or be cursed to become an old fool.

Defense Tactics

I do not pray for my enemies.

I besiege their walls & wait for their downfall.

I will not love those, who do not love me.

I remember and will not forgive the lies until you’ve returned my wasted time.

Even still,

I bear no ill will,

But I won’t forgive,

I’ll just pretend.. the way you did.

Pretty Penny

Her attention doesn’t come cheap, if you were expecting it easy. But not just the time itself, the qualifying requirements. Yeah you got your Masters but what’s up with that PhD? You bought a 4.0? Better get your change up.

She used to date this one nigga, he stayed in the streets heavy. Quarter pounders at a time, he used to keep a Big Mac. Til police kicked the door in, they shut down the whole trap. I think she was still in school then and had to deal with all that shit.

The years are starting to get to her. The physical blessings turn into curses cuz we slick stressed for time. Not everyone just wants to use you, must be hard to be fine. But do you really wanna say you lost your money and mind?

Just a matter of time before she falls back on me. But I don’t get the perks because she thinks I struggle with money. I have to listen to her stories, I roll up as she whines. And now, this once so pretty penny’s starting to lose all its shine.

Inspired by The Daily Post – Daily Prompt: Shine

27

Today is my 27th birthday…

27 is the perfect cube.

At 27 though, still, I am not the perfect dude.

I have flaws and at times, I feel lost.

My eyes glossed

All those joints that I’ve rolled

Cause reflection of tolls

of last breaths from some artists I know.

Morrison, Hendrix are VIP members

I’ll stay out if I make it past this next December

Intoxication

Winehouse celebrations, threaten life as I know

The rains of nirvana, Cobain, they fall slow

We’ll sip slow

27,

recklessness

be no more

for this is one age I can’t wait to see go.

 

Pinkies in the Air Drinkin Hennessy

I should’ve plotted out my major points, before writing this. But the fact that I didn’t, is essentially what this entire piece is about…

I find it difficult to relate to most of the writers/bloggers that get mainstream shine or even popular independent support online, on an educational level. Yet, in the same space, I aim to one day create content as influential as theirs. I don’t believe that my lack of a degree constitutes me being any less creative than them, it’s just a general perception thing. See, I went to a major university but only for a semester before I left. When I got there I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about what the future held. I was going to be involved in campus activities, I’d pledge Alpha after my freshman year and be involved with the young, black future leaders I was sure to be surrounded by. I wanted to be apart of something established and to have my voice heard…

But as I attempted to integrate my  former life & habits, into the jumbled, mix of events and occurrences that is college… the square peg never fit into the round hole. I wasn’t cut from the same cloth as those people who surely once had the same dreams and aspirations I did. College is probably the first place I saw major division within the community. Classmates, whose parents live on the same street and have been good friends for years, grow apart. The artistic kids go to open mics, the smart ones live in the library, the social ones join frats and sororities and the leftovers sort of drift. I was a drifter. I saw how the organizations and groups divided those who were once close, into splintered factions of special interests. The place I always dreamed of coming started to become less appealing and once the shine wore off, I left.

While everyone else was finishing up at university, I was out fucking up. Bullshitting at community college, selling mid grade for kush prices and smashing all the chicks that never even went to college. All the while unhappy, because I knew this wasn’t me or at least who I wanted to be… But I also wasn’t the pretentious, degree waving asshole my former classmates were growing into. I was in a tough spot. Was I being resentful and a hater? Or just marching to the beat of my own drum? What would I have become if I stayed in college?…

That question is irrelevant. Until H.G. Wells lists that time machine on Amazon, I’ll never know. But, what I’ve realized on my life journey, is that there is an untapped demographic. One that content rarely reflects the life of. The young black male, lacking a college education but works hard. He’s intelligent and aware as anyone else, but is constantly overlooked. He absorbs media, yet there is none reflective of his situation. All he sees is the cookie cutter image of what a “successful”, black male must have accomplished or look like. I hope to create content for the intelligent, black men (and women) who didn’t go to college. The ones that don’t own any tailored suits or polished Cole Haans, yet have interests and concerns no different from the Summa Cum Laude brothers. The true silent majority.

The thought within the “established” of the black community that says if you didn’t graduate college, your voice, thoughts and ideas are somehow inadequate, needs to die. And it will. God willing, I’ll deliver the fatal blow to those ideals myself.

Stop drinking Hennessy with your pinky in the air.

Thank you all for helping me realize my worth and find my voice. What you read is but a skeleton outline of what I hope to become & produce.

The Visit

Phone started ringing at like 12AM, we met at the Shell earlier, she just got in… And was wondering, if I was still with my friends and if I wasn’t if I wanted to come see her a minute…

Well.. I guess it depends, on what she’s got in mind and if she’s got any kids (yeah)… Nah, nevermind, I’ll probably just chill at the crib. A couple of minutes later, it started ringing again…

The number looked familiar but ain’t saved in my phone. I’m drunk, so I said fuck it, I’m gonna answer, hello?…

The voice said, I know that you can’t stand me, but you remember me? It’s Brandi?

I said the one I used to wax like a candle? The one that it was never nothing that she couldn’t handle? The one that said I used to fuck her better than her man do?

She replied like, yeah so? But what you doing now though? Henny talking on both shoulders, dog this chick like Alpo…

Told her nothing, bout to roll up. Ima come over there hold up, now this Operation’s covert… “no man” is the code word.

Learned from my mistakes, so it’s no way I’m gon slip, I only pistol whip with Magnums on some Goldeneye shit. Only visiting for now, but always packing for a trip. With him she been wishing it was me inside them hips.

Neighbors probably hear the knocking. And it’ll stay like this as long as she keep calling. Fuck it if he don’t like it, true story, I ain’t even have to write this.