Tag: pbs

That Moment

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That moment when the inspiration is so thick but the words are so weak. When time won’t give room to whisper a glint of poetry or finger your way through lines made of braille.  I want to write, but not anything. So I wait for the calming of thought processes to slow the string of melodies into a post of beauty. Nothing rushed and spilled like left over knowledge and conscientious stupidity. Not the same ole same ole thirst for the vanity of wisdom. No, not anything. Not the mouthing off of regurgitated ignorance. Surely every thought is not worthy of the blank page. The new post is after all too pure for any thought to brush upon it. Though the pull to build on the creativity that found its way inside your space must fulfill itself. I am indeed in the midst of that moment. I desire to write something, but not anything. I want to beautify the whiteness of this page into something stronger than the color of poetry. Something that seeps into your mind and rushes to the center of your soul like the longing of fire to touch wood; a stream of living water waiting to fall for the first cup it sees standing; the longing of lips desperate and trembling for the first kiss it sees wanting. Indeed, maybe I’ll just kiss my way into this post. Give you something of value to take home. Take with you my beloved. And let me give you more than just a penny for my thoughts.

We Trust

Born into the ticking clock of innocence
a hurrying forth of second hands
to match the inhale and exhale of lung
we sing truth against the fragile voice of newness
and taste of the refreshing sound of belief
Trust
it is the automatic gift life births us with
against the cold relentless winds of the skies
of experience
of living
we lose sight of this gift like we age
the only circumstance in which increasing numbers
is representative of loss
a slippery lyric of experience snatching away
our inherent decision to bend
a revelation sung to the instrumentals
of life
not as gentle
not as soft
not as giving as naiveté in childhood
we learn not the automatic taste
of confidence
but the wisdom of serpents
to discern the shady tongues
the coated lips of deceit
against the cold relentless winds of life
of experience
that teaches
that we cannot trust every breathing entity
for these winds are not so trustworthy any longer
for they have grown old
and have known lies
these lungs do not sing the song of genuine
for that we trust now like serpents
and wrap ourselves
inside the delicateness of the dove

Writer’s Quote Wednesday – William Wordsworth

For this weeks segment of Writer’s Quote Wednesday, I draw inspiration from William Wordsworth:

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This quote is brief and to the point and I think it is most important. When you sit down to write, the focus should not initially be on proper grammar, sentence structure, whether the words rhyme, symbolism, or any other technique outside that thing that beats through your chest. Initially, the purpose should be to fill the paper with what’s truly in your heart. You can always go back to edit, but a page soaked in truth is more than likely to speak to people more so than proper grammar. At least for me, I try to make sure that my passion is first in my writing life, and that what I give you is coming from my innermost being. My goal is not to sound like I graduated from Harvard; my goal is to tell the truth.

About the Author:
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William Wordsworth was a major English Romantic poet who, with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, helped to launch the Romantic Age in English literature with their joint publication Lyrical Ballads. – Wikipedia

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That’s it for me today. Yall be great :).

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I Wonder

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I wonder what would happen
if I threw my pen into yesterday
let it scribble up the past
and teleport those memories
to the edge of my fingertips
If I splashed this page with infinity
so that you remember forever
where you came from.
Or what if I just thought about it
wirelessly sent messages across dimensions
bringing back roots
and read your thoughts before they reached you
replace futility with the integrity of substance
create worlds out of nothing
create soldiers out of nobody’s
a ghetto child that’s restored to his place as a King
I wonder
If I could.
Would you let me
transcribe history
staple its pages to the roof of your mouth
let your tongue unfold like ancient scrolls
saliva running like living water
and dripping like liquid foundation
stand in the backyard of Eden
and hide no longer between rocks and hard places
find your place here
inside the body of this pen
along the lines of this page
I give you permission to bleed
all the crazy reasons why
you matter.

Upgrade Your Value

 

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Sometimes we base our self-worth on what we see; what him and her and they perceive to be important. Played against the heartstrings of others, the media is direction to our chorus. Splattered images of what success looks like echoes off the tops of dreams we conjure under the blankets of perception. We reminisce on fantasy like the touched up portraits of celebrities. It is the pride of a man serving seven years in the military. His Purple Heart medallion waves and smiles at passerby’s before he does. We know not what beats inside his chest, just the striking forest green of his uniform. It shines like it does on the TV and in the magazines, and our jaws drop with awe. This is a man who could not have received more awards. Could not have been a better example of an outstanding citizen. But when the uniform comes off, and the glory of sacrifice cripples away into the concrete; when the intoxicating fragrance echoes off the numbing high of a man now staggering to the next corner. When the alcohol melts this Purple Heart against the insides of his soul like skin clung to flesh, what is left of the perception now upon him? What of this hero turned homeless Veteran? Does his value weaken like the washed up fade of an army uniform? Or is he now nothing more than another brother worthy of our disrespect?

Today, I encourage you to upgrade your value. Be not limited to the rotting fabric of tangible things. Be not awed by the signs of achievement and circumstance. Hurry not to praise people only when they have accomplished something society thinks is worthy of your respect. Judge instead the content of a person’s character. Judge their resolve, their kindness, and their warmth. For these, if truly possessed by them, will never rot away.

Must Reads

I think I’m gonna start incorporating more book recommendations to this blog. I want to build a neat bookshelf but I’m not sure if there’s much room in here. I’ll have to move the furniture around, don’t want it to get all crowded and whatnot. So anywho, every now and again I’ll recommend a book I think will provide a thought provoking jolt if you will, to our daily lives. Most of them will, naturally, come from my very own book shelf.

Today’s Must Read is:

Before the Mayflower: A History of Black America by Lerone Bennett JR.

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“Before the Mayflower” traces black history from its origins in western Africa, through the transatlantic journey that ended in slavery, the Reconstruction period, the Jim Crow era, and the civil rights upheavals of the 1960s and 1970s, culminating in an exploration of the complex realities of African-American life in the 1990s. Here is the most recent scholarship on the geographic, social, ethnic, economic, and cultural journey of “the other Americans, ” together with vital portraits of black pioneers and seminal figures in the struggle for freedom, as well as additional material on historical developments in the Reagan, Bush, and Clinton years.”
Find it on Amazon