I've been wanting to cry lately

I've been wanting to cry lately,

You see as a kid tears ran down my eyes so frequently

People always called me a crybaby, but I wasn't soft. Me? When I got mad, like a chain being broken off a gate all my emotions would flood out at the same time.

But the older I got the harder it's been to communicate how I feel

Well see I can't even I say that, when I talk to me, things are understood, I look in the mirror I know who looks back. 

But like a vampire when YOU look in my mirror you see no reflection.

So as I'm asked how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking a zipper forms over my mouth, even my heart muffling what I say.

"I'm good" 

But who's that for? For you who I fear will judge whatever honesty comes out my mouth or for me who tries to put that energy out in hopes it actually one day I will be good.

Happiness, it's so fleeting. It's like a high, it's amazing once it's here but it is so easy for it to disappear. And we spend so much effort trying to find that same feeling, hell any feeling at all.

And now I usually sit back and watch and what I see is that people are searching just like me. For that happiness, that comfortable space to speak without being judged. One that exists outside their own mind. 

And my heart is weighed down by the tears sitting at the bottom of it that I've held in.

And I say again, sometimes I want to cry. But I don't always no why, it's just a feeling. 

As I struggle to find the space of comfort. I just pray I keep the ability to put it down on paper, in a story. In my art to cleanse my soul and for those fleeting moments, I see the Sun blessing me through the gray. 

Persevere

I sit in a dark corner, mind racing on my next move. 

Notebook in front of me, one light shining.

I'm surrounded. Pressures of the future & the pain of the past sit on each shoulder. 

My mind stuck like a traffic jam, too many thoughts. Keep thinking like that and you'll go crazy.

Moans & groans of pain on the first floor, my family in need.

I jump between holding back and not giving a fuck. The pain sometimes feel too much.

But I can't give up.

You see my father never stopped, his heart did once but he never quit.

My mother wears her scarf to protect her from the negative. Their pain put me in a lead for first.

Sweat & Tears ain't nothing new to me. I drag us all across the finish line, but who's there to congratulate me?

The voices in my head pat me on the back but as I open my eyes they're the only ones to touch my spirit. 

And so I sit. Alone in this corner, I open the windows to be met with the midnight sky. I pray for a better morning but I've learned prayer ain't enough. 

So I go back to my corner and look at that notebook. The traffic jam in my mind clears up. 

"Construction ahead"

Move along there ain't much to see here 

 

 

Butterly across the Atlantic

The winds blow across the Atlantic, the cocoons in my stomach sprout butterflies, long nested inside they laid dormant.

I wonder who left them there. How blessed is your touch that I didn't notice, or I refused to. 

Your wings flap far across the Atlantic but many things you left for me to remember you by while you are gone. 

How subtle but powerful are the flap of a butterfly's wings. 

MY butterfly's wings.

Travel far and wide, a nest you always have in my heart. 

Oh how the butterflies you've grown in me,  alongside them passion and blessings have sprouted. 

No two butterfly's look the same and how blessed I am to have the greatest one. 

Across the Atlantic you are, only a flap of your wings is how far you really are when I close my eyes and listen to my heart. 

A note in my words that carry on the wind that goes through your wings I know you'll soar on them. 

My butterfly's touch is never too much. 

I can't help but think that the wind that hits my face once started off the flap of these gracious wings and it brings a smile to me.

Afraid of heights...

...my butterfly, she keeps me calm. 

As I rise she rests & as I rest she flies, 

Protecting each other when the other was most fragile.

Blessed be the man who's heart is held in someone else's hands and they choose to protect it instead of put it to the side. 

Kept warm my heart is, in her grasp. 

Thankful and blessed to see the butterfly grow her wings.

 

"Osiris and I discuss drug addictions and social deconstruction"

This Poem is by a friend and colleague Diego Del Pozo.

More to come from him and the Undefeated Losers team. 

 

My dog and I talk about human behaviors, we stay up all night discussing the relationship between people and their drugs of choice; the effects and experiences these substances offer and the genetic predisposition in all animals to find ways to intoxicate themselves. He educates me on how Elephants seek out fermented papaya for a night on the town. Monkeys chew on certain leaves because it gets them high, and tells me how the Over-mind we call God has very few things that make him laugh more than seeing a Koala stare at itself in a pond. Osiris explains to me that the reason our world is the way it is, its because humans removed themselves from nature. He continues on how addicts are called tweakers, and the image he draws is that of a war Veteran facing a broken mirror, each eye fixated on different regrets on his face.

The deaths he carries in the bags under his eyes weigh on His Rattle snake mind,

So he begins Poisoning his self image.

Consuming his thoughts like scissors.

The air hard to breathe. The air raid never ending, bombs so loud he cannot sleep at night. And every day lost in the dark he finds a way to silence his inner critic, he shoots himself up with 20mg of Heroin looking for a savior, trying to escape the battle zone for just a moment. That's the type of war stories told in the hood. Those are the type of unsung heroes that fade into a hum, a mourning at a wake. That's the American machine eating its babies. 

I've been writing down radical ways to get rid of the hood, lower class neighborhoods ridden with drugs, I'm trying to find ways to end the war on the people. 

I wanna drop a Warhead and flatten these street, melt these corners, 

I wanna give acid to the hood.

Dilute their illusions of manhood.

Talking about "the bricks made me 

love the block" brother you're being stepped on and peddled, cooked in a tar black summer heat. You hear the tongue lash, don't you?  Whips, chains, brands, and a gang of niggas slanging that soft white product, its a slave language. Winter is coldest at The Big House but the hoodie blocks your vision; do you see it yet? Do you see the X? That's where a King's dream is hidden. Waiting. Not to be unburied but to be buried into, grown, develop roots back to the motherland.

We need a reset button, a way to start over. We need to love our women

Like they done raised us to be men

Like they done bled for us to live

Like we know they shed their life in tears when we die young, colored, covered in blood like flames cover a bursting star.. Young men unbecoming Gods swallowed by the red and blue lights of a black and white wormhole. 

Brother, are they playing against you or just playing you? For every "bitch" or "snitch" you stitch whose losing? All these years you thought you were angry when you were really just sad. Heartbroken and broke. Harden and sadden. Easy to hear the hunger pain echo through chittering teeth. They laughing at us but we don't get the joke of shattered hoop dreams and dribbling dope. The project is to program you, are you listening the music? The projects program you. 

Revolt, revive, remember we are 

Gods, goddess, kings and queens.

We are a nation Of gods under the God.

He spun the Earth and lit the sun 

He turned the soil in mother's womb.

So fuck you and your oppression! 

We'll soon rage rage rage against the machine and we'll take back Sunday's and Monday's and all the days of our lives they have taken. Animals in cages

Crime and punishment.

Who is the judge?

Read this over, I'll let you be it.