The Poetry Marathon

A world wide pandemic had to take shape before we slowed our gait. A battle cry from the earth had to be made to set her free.  We did not do it willingly. We were not listening. She needed her plants and animals to flourish. She had no fear of the reciprocity that we seek . She did not demand, yet when we no longer listened in what seemed like eons of time she decided to stand her ground and we still refused to listen to her cries. We were all forced to slow down to stop and let nature take reign over her land.  To have a rest. To recall life . We call her mother, but our arbitrary forms of commemoration no longer stand the test of time because they show that we have not learned.  We cannot reduce our commemoration to her to a single day, no mother, father or even birthday or earth day should be reduced to a single day.

Mother earth deserves an entire season . A season of change, more than a day or a  month off to recuperate each year. This is what we as a society will do if we truly care. Anything less than a season will not suffice.

The Gregorian calendar has become an archaic symbol of a bygone era.  Are we ready to usher in the age of Aquarius a new better way? We can learn from our past and honor all that is sacred, but if it was wrong or misguided we do not have to be bound by a tradition that dishonors all that we have come to appreciate and that has given us the bounty of life that we all share.  Nature is the one equalizer that we need to heed. We did not have to wait for a pandemic to wake us or give us an ultimatum to do what is right.  There is no need to negotiate.  Let us do what is right and start anew.  Do it for mother earth, do it for your loved ones. We are one in the same and there is no need to blame. Let us do what is right. The veil is lifted. The time is now to make the shift.

Light a match and the light shows no shadow.

Be a light to yourself even when the world does not see it.

Light needs contrast and dark needs light.

Both are not negative or positive, nor are they one in the same.

Shadow gives light its strength and light offers up a tiny spark,

Against an all encompassing background of the dark.

They compliment each other since the dawn of time.

We see the stars because of the night, so let’s wake up and embrace each in its own right.

The story I want to tell is one I do not know how it ends because it is the story of my life. Some may want to tie up all the loose ends and have everything neat and complete. I tried that and will probably die trying to make the cut, yet in the meantime I take pleasure in the little unknowns that come my way.

The truth is there is so much in between that we miss.  So many moments not captured on film or in picture form. A touch, a laugh, a kind word, or even a kiss. Trust me in this era of technology I’ve tried to capture every clip and I have been questioned for this quip.  I wish I had a baby of my own to love and hold, so I was not judged for my documentarian ways.  The good and the bad I try not discard if I can help it.  Everything has its place and so much can be recycled or given away. Yet those shots we question whether candid or posed are vital when we are trying to capture life in all its glory and its pain. It is what makes us human. We make mistakes and we learn.  I feel we need to document it all so we do not repeat what we detest, or what causes unrest. Perhaps this is my fascination with museums and photography on a whole.

My words, your doodles, I will collect them all.  Can I find a new occupation that will pay me for my attention to detail?  Each time I reread a paragraph  or look at art, I find something new. A nuance, a Deja-vu, a change of tone. I don’t like watching movies more than once, but sampling a book or music I don’t mind a second chance.

Like fashion, why can’t I comment on the whole picture that I see?  I hear the message, but there is so much more to the story.

Let me stage the set and set the tone. I see it all in full color code. Technicolor or black and white there is more to see than meets the eyes. If  only I was truly multilingual.  I would relish in the nuance of tone and dialect. The words, the thoughts, the feel, the notion, the inside and the outside, the positive and negative, the contour and the gesture.

For some it may be information overload, but for me I have the eyes of a hummingbird seeing colors unknown to man and like a dragonfly I see things in multiple dimensions of depth and form. 3D is not the norm 5D is the form that I recognize. Can’t wait to uncover more than meets the eye. Touch, taste, sound, texture, sight, and intuition all speak to me. I sense more than the surface that you present to me. I listen with ears that you don’t see, my hands and eyes see parts that a microscope and telescope cannot catch.  I see life in a plant and I see the image in the stone. I seek depth beyond the perception of the surface that is created to create dissonance. I see the vibrations that most miss. Give me a chance to tune into the frequency that is beyond most human perception.

How will you reach your demise? When the sun scorches the skies. Or when one cannot touch his thighs.

Will we succumb to the unrest?To the distress?

You are linked to the world near and far, yet you make us appear distant and overly attached.

Unattached from human connection when you are near, how focused are we really to that pen-pal technology friend that we all share?

What will be next to go extinct, the cellphone we desperately cling to, the pocket microphone, the thumb drive, the printer, or the remote control that we would gladly trade in? This is how it has always been.

Oh technology you save us and you also do us in, what will we do without you?

We use you in someway everyday.

Some of my greatest days are when you are nowhere insight. Especially when I am inflight.

Too few to remember, so the memories become more special.

No need to compromise, I like to incorporate pictures into my everyday life, but we may need a sun flare to get us back on track. We may try to get you back.

Even though it is too late. Like the flip phone, you did not go out of date.

it was just matter of time before you came back in style.  Just give us a break once in a while.

I hope that  G.P.S. does not ever go extinct, even though a compass is cool to navigate. Don’t bring us to the brink. E.T.A.’s are a feature we like.  It works best on cars and motorcycles , not necessarily a bike.Yet, we like it a lot.  At least I do 🙂

It came to me like a thief in the night out of the blue one weekend I fell for its lure. I prayed to God to help me decipher if it was true. After the encounter, I would not ever be the same.  The name it goes by is far from its aftermath. For nearly two years I thought I was in pure bliss. Instead I see much clearer now that I was caught in the abyss.  Every kind word or treatment I question on the integrity of what was said or done.  To tell you the truth it should have had me running for the hills, too afraid to encounter its depth or the pain it caused.  All I ever feared came to pass, and what I did not know in the end I did not seek out.  I had no choice but to remain strong. After everything I went through it’s a wonder I could ever speak of it again.  I was steadfast in my mind that I would not let it kill the innocence or the hope that resided in me. I am too afraid to say it resembled the four letter word so many have used without conscience. Too precious to name. I leave it unsaid, knowing I will not ever be the same.

It came to me like a thief in the night out of the blue one weekend I fell for its lure. I prayed to God to help me decipher if it was true. After the encounter, I would not ever be the same.The name it goes by is far from its name or the aftermath it would cause. For nearly two years I thought I was in pure bliss. Instead I see much clearer now that I was caught in the abyss.

Every kind word or treatment I question on the integrity of what was said or done. To tell you the truth I did not know if he was the one. This did not scare me and it should have had me running in the opposite direction, too afraid to encounter its depth or lack of perception. Instead I was forced to experience the pain it would eventually cause.

Then it turned into a he.  It was no longer a mystery. He was a con and my heart was a casualty, or so everyone thinks. Even though I was always vocal with the questions I had I did not ever back down. I was fooled in the beginning because I thought I had met my match in affection and heart.

He mirrored in me all my deep desires without asking and I mirrored back all the good I had stored in my heart. Synchronosites too many to name. It was not only him or it that had me hooked in this mysterious web; it was the spaces inbetween that could not be planned or faked that had me believing in “we”. Growth was more than a possibility.

I wish I could say I was duped 100 percent, but I was not a complete fool to fall for the four letter word, so many desperately seek.  I knew my worth, yet I was willing to bend and when I saw the cracks I filled them with gold seeking the soul connection above the rest.  The human flaws are always thereto see. I did not need 2020 to clear my vision from the veil that had already been lifted. Politically we were not aligned, yet I did not allow this to stop what I thought was built on genuine trust and care. Who was I to judge? This was not a testament to its very definition. I was caught in a web of deception or perhaps a deliberate plan or  so I have come to see. Perhaps he believed what he said.  It does not matter now, because I was betrayed by two, not out of lust, but possibly greed, something more sinister indeed.   I will not ever have the chance to find out the truth and accept this reality because my energy and time is too precious to waste on someone so callous and cruel in the end.

Every question I had I turned into a challenge I could handle. All I ever feared came to pass, and what I did not know in the end I did not seek out. I let it be and only fought to protect my name for if he could take more than my earthly possession he would have.  I had no choice but to remain strong. After everything I went through it’s a wonder I could ever speak of it again.  I was steadfast in my mind that I would not let “it” or “he” kill the innocence or the hope that resided in me. I am too afraid to say it resembled the four letter word so many have used without conscience, and  too precious to name. I leave it unsaid, knowing I will not ever be the same because at one time “he” and “it” were one in the same.

Air travel is not what it used to be.

You’re lucky if you get water or space to move your head.

I think my jaw has not ever been the same since a long expired Spirit flight.

This is no Air Jamaica Champagne of the skies.

You must wipe down your seat and inoculate yourself.

Who has time for eye patches facials and moisturized sleep-scape?.

Bring your headphones one lightning for music and another standard plug if you want to catch the news or a feature film.

I prefer the window seat to follow the clouds to think without the looming need for WIFI overhead.

The best part is catching a glimpse of the geographical map come to life below or the clouds overhead.

Cheers to a safe flight smooth and one that does not resemble the rough treatment we now experience in the friendly skies.

Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes — ‘In some Native languages the term for plants translates to “those who take care of us.”

Plants are one our connections to the natural world.

They were the first to teach us how to hustle and flow.

We learn patience, the miraculous gift of life renewed, and balance when we care for plants.

These delicate creatures are extensions of ourselves.

Too much water, like too much love, can spoil us like it can rot the roots.

Too dry, and we must learn how to spring back before it’s too late.

Before we hit the point of no return,

Or make a cause for concern.

Plants in a person’s home are more telling than any art they may have.

One can keep a messy or a clean home quite easily, yet to grow a plant one must be blessed.

It is not left up to chance or fate to care for a plant, it shows they can handle stress.

Caring for a plant shows that one is capable of love.

Romantic is heavily advertised, platonic is nice, but Agape transcends space and time.  

Plants say more about a person than you know.

See if you have what it takes to grow.

Patience, caring, and knowing when to move a plant until it finds its perfect home is a sign of empathy.

Love given when needed sometimes daily or on occasion shows that a person is in touch with true needs.

Plants are as precious as seeds.

They have so many possibilities.

Always looking for a miracle product.

The Denman brush works for some.

All Natural is the motto we tote.

No Sulfates No Parabens or Hairpins

T-shirts work best if you “Plop”.

Or maybe the L.O.C. method. (Lotion-Oil-Cream)

Oil the scalp and roots, but not the ends.

Leave-in is a must or a bust if the ingredients don’t jive with your hair personal concoction.

I still don’t know my curl pattern.

Wash and go or finger curl every strand.

At the end of the day plain water is best.

A fine mist will refresh, and second day old curls are clutch.

Good Luck… sudden rain storms don’t mess with our flow.

I used to wonder how the girls did it in the old black and white films then I realized I don’t need to sit under a lamp.

My curls conform to a Shirly Temple bounce or a crimper’s dream if I braid it and let it dry and take my time.

Hair as multifaceted as the weather changes, we seek to emulate what we already have.

“And now…” So when they said today was the funeral of Bobby Digital… I thought it was the multifaceted rapper and not the reggae producer who passed from natural causes. Instantly I was transported to find out about this legendary icon I never knew. His favorite singer was Dennis Brown. “Music made to absorb” from the youth to transition into the present day.  I did not know all the songs he produced. I grew up in the states and I researched my roots in reggae also listening to hip-hop and rap fresh in my lexicon. So this poetry shout out is to all the “Bobby Digital” fans alive and those who passed to the next phase of existence. Merci Beaucoup. Bless up… Thank you. RZA and Bobby Digital. Music is the education we all seek. jPs…I’m missing Quest Love tonight to write.

Inspired by the first line of ,“Who Was That Masked Man Anyway? By Avi (My reintro to the Wu, who knew!)

Ambient temperature on planet earth produces clouds that raise the dew point. Scientifically this is the gist of a cloud, yet I see a cloud as a cotton ball unfurled and unencumbered resembling cotton candy undyed, bleached white sometimes in the hue of gray like storm clouds caught amongst shades of blue sky.  I quell the unrest of flying with the cloud surfing that I do when I gaze out a window.  Searching for a face or space to fill the frame. I am a cloud surfer and I long to surf in the clouds, living in a home with an unobstructed view is one way to surf without flying.