Let’s be real for a bit..

Your defensive schemes all out of wack. The area your covering isn’t even the most vulnerable, you’re looking at it from the wrong perspective. You’re looking outside – in, when you should be looking inside – out. Guarding against the run, as if you didn’t just allow me to pass.

Man to man coverage. Worry about who’s in front of you. That’s your responsibilty. Don’t depend on any sort of safety coverage and no don’t peeking into the backfield. But it takes a certain type to be able to do this. Some can, some cannot.

The end zone is the end goal, of course scoring is important, but so is time of possession. The longer you hold on, the better your chances of winning.

Should you choose to bend the rules, play without dignity or outright cheat, you will be caught & punished. Once word gets out, free agents won’t even respond to your messages and you’ll lose future picks.

I mean, it is all sort of a game anyway, right? We mask it as a playful activity, something for amusement, but in reality it’s so much more. We all want to win and hold up our trophy.

And after you’ve gotten that trophy every living being desires, you also get a ring.

That zone defense you’ve been playing got you here, but it won’t win you a ring. Come here. Do your job and only be concerned about the man in front of you.

And I promise the same.


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.


Animosity has moved where admiration once lived

A warm shoulder to lean upon

a cold one returned in gratitude

A fledgling associate, your value now lacks

yet a sliver of hope remains still

Admission of feelings

caused tension to grow


a distorted collection of sentiment

resting in its place.


Inspired by The Daily Post – Daily Prompt: Unseen


Can’t You See, What You Do to Me?

Over the threshold and home, an interlude plays softly as he enters
Flipped switches to the central ceiling fixtures, unresponsive
A note attached… “let’s make it an adventure”
Only clue illuminated by the candlelit sconces.
Deeper in the dark corridor, a sweet scent emanated
A game of cat & mouse initiated by the misses
First song fades out, to this room hubby was baited
Heard the patter of her feet she scattered fast and full of giggles.
You’re really trying to get creative with the love, missy
Badu switched from the soundbar to the Beats pill
Turned my back and then you slipped me a mickey
But all you gotta do is say yes, Jill.
Perched atop the bed, like a queen upon her throne
Soft caress of happiness
It was the sweetest thing I’ve ever know
To find my hide and seek champion.

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.

Resurrection & Fire

Somewhere surrounded only by the smoldering remnants of a fractured psyche, a man makes use of the smoldering embers. All formerly valuable possessions, long devoid of any meaningful value, are relegated to makeshift piles of timber. Yet, they were adaptable as is the man whom chooses he should be, and transform into something more designed for survival. Reborn amidst fault and smoke, the ladder that is chaos demands a sacrifice be made to forge atonement. A piece or pieces of the man must die or the whole will be devoured instead, as only death can pay for life.

The flicker of a lighter here is a bit ironic, given the circumstances. A man could use what was already provided to ignite a flame, but instead he chooses to create his own fire. And still let everything burn. All around him everything burns, yet he doesn’t use the blaze as a catalyst nor try to stop it. He is complicit with both stagnation and adaptation. When he inhales puffs of his smoke and theirs, a moment of clarity consumes him… Burn them all.

Burn the ideals of cultural excellence. Incinerate the societal norms. Torch the bourgeoisie. A man has no economic security, no financial freedom, and no social mobility, yet the man is rich. In visions & daydreams, all those who cling to antiquated ideas perished. Just as the man chooses his smoke, he has chosen his path. He knows he can ill afford to let the past dictate the future he now dreams, lest the same mistakes transpire. There are those he’d wish to save and those he could help along the way. But a man is much more wary now and focused on his own. The future seemed so bright yet still, though, it could just be the flames scorching everything remaining in sight-line.

Highly Irregular

According to my records, The Modern Medici is a single man. I received no word from any maesters or suitors saying differently. No ravens have landed with any new news, things have been status quo. Which is why I’m here, delivering dramatizations and factual accounts based on my life experiences. Some may find them irregular, but I suppose life is irregular. So, I will continue to write, be awkward and iron through any irregularities as best I can…

Somewhere along the way, I lost perspective. I lost the ability to be able to step outside of my own POV and look inwards on myself. I feel my content suffered as I lost sight of my own personal goals and nearly drowned in the waters of a barely stable utopia. My schedule week after week was rushed and zombied through to get to a certain day, I even found myself wishing the others away to get to it. And once the day came, I only wanted one thing, Italian. I didn’t even need a menu or schedule of events, because I knew exactly what the chef was serving, week after week on this day. The same meal every time, but I convinced myself I loved it, because for so long it was all I knew…

Yet to be caught in a routine, as unhealthy and predictable as having Italian every week, is in all honesty a travesty. Especially so, when I’ve done myself no justice by continuing to visit a place with no rewards program. I’ve been a loyal customer for quite sometime. True, I may have glanced at a Mexican spot once or twice and even made a few comments about going but I never ordered. Not once. Because I knew I’d be eating Italian. But not ONCE, did I receive a thank you or loyalty program offer. Yet, the chef is upset I mentioned that another place might be worth a try. And here we are…

Speaking in ridiculous innuendos about food, as related to people and relationships. I regret not a word I’ve ever written, nor a comment I’ve made. I do, however, regret being so attached and spending so much of my capitol in a place with no rewards program. There was no loyalty card yet I was charged a years worth of membership fees. I honestly value all lessons learned, both the easy and the hard way. Oh and I say it again, I’ve been had! I’ve been took! I’ve been hoodwinked! Bamboozled! Led astray! Run amok! 

Italian is now officially played out. Next time, I’ll read the fine print. There’ll be benefits and rewards for my genuine loyalty, regardless of the establishment’s view on earned credits or I won’t spend capitol with them.