tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55302942165110243352011-12-07T17:34:01.290-05:00My hole underground is warm and full of light. Yes, full of light because it is painted in shades of the truth that can't be seen with the naked eye. The truth is the light and the light is the truth. And just in case your not ready to see...here are a pair of shades.I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.comBlogger401100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-60961216111420196852011-11-28T20:00:00.001-05:002011-11-28T20:00:01.070-05:00

Wake the fuck up You know I don't like to use these type of words But sometimes you just have to Get people’s attention so Wake the fuck up And open your eyes There’s a whole lot of shit going down And I don't want you to be surprised By the death of affirmative action Wrapped up in time for Christmas And the wall at or border Those little men are defending Put down your books and take a

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-7508970593851488602011-06-03T09:00:00.001-04:002011-06-03T09:00:16.641-04:00

The world is not always a place of peace and plenty. Despite our technological advances, our intellectual prowess, and our thirst for justice and equality, the world can still be a pretty fucked up place. For the most part when bad things happen, we have a desire to distance ourselves from the traumatic experience in order to either process it or to suppress it. What is more distressing, however,

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-14867521300658136642011-01-04T09:30:00.001-05:002011-01-04T09:30:01.853-05:00

I was recently reflecting on a speech by Audre Lorde  entitled "The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action.  In it Lorde states: I was going to die, if not sooner then later, whether or not I had ever spoken myself.  My silences had not protected me.  Your silence will not protect you.  But for every real word spoken, for every attempt I had ever made to

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-68765917315009010942011-01-03T09:00:00.001-05:002011-01-03T09:00:03.433-05:00

In times of crisis, we often first look for support in the wrong places.  We turn outward instead of inward; to the faces of friends and lovers; the ties of kith and kin.  The truth is that me must love ourselves first and foremost before we can truly be happy and have that love reciprocated. I had forgotten that of late and was given a pretty painful reminder today.  Most people who know me

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-22205493137265401282010-11-29T10:00:00.000-05:002010-11-29T10:00:06.383-05:00

Here is a fantastic new artist I stumbled across about a year ago.  I love her voice and she is even more amazing in person.  Definitely check her out and buy her self titled album Angel Taylor: Love Travels It is not enough to say you like an artist, you need to support them as well.  The official recording for Chai Tea Latte is my favorite song, closely followed by "Best Father Around".

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-63053037419661222482010-11-28T19:33:00.000-05:002010-11-28T19:33:59.743-05:00

"People evolve a language in order to describe and thus control their circumstances, or in order not to be submerged by a reality that they cannot articulate." - James Baldwin, "If Black English Isn't a Language, Then Tell Me, What Is?" One of the new things I have picked up is a love for ASL.  I have only been studying for less than a year, but I have found the language to be nuanced and

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-43785719915361368062010-11-28T19:27:00.001-05:002011-01-12T10:35:54.039-05:00

A warning... What's Happening by Robert Westley It is not necessary to wait long To see it happen - Happening in the streets Red with black blood Happening in hallways Littered with semen stains Happening behind doors Where babies loll on the floor Scream with pain and tear each others hair. It's happening right now. A young girl surrenders her secrets To the boy she loves, but When they rise

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-28042752354490128262010-11-28T17:22:00.000-05:002010-11-28T17:22:40.454-05:00

To tell all that has happened to me in the last months would take more ink than this post can hold so instead of a recap, a few simple facts:   1. Still working in the arts. 2. No longer single. 3. New house.  Fewer roommates (although I miss the old ones sometimes) 4. Still calling the District home. 5. Happy and learning how to deal with the unfamiliar sense of balance that comes with it.

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-82179619985869971092010-03-28T17:00:00.001-04:002010-03-28T17:36:07.873-04:00

A writer friend and I got into an interesting discussion recently regarding a fiction blog series of his entitled Jaylen's Journal.  I read the piece and was really intrigued by some of the ideas about it and that lead to a VERY long comment that I decided to turn into a blog post of its own.   I recommend you read the blogpos first and then my comments make a litle more sense.  You can find the

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-58653691481401624462010-03-26T13:50:00.000-04:002010-03-26T13:50:48.476-04:00

I stood shivering in the rain outside the hospital.  My throat was raw from the sobs that had racked my body for that last hour.  I was spent and alone in the dark, but I could not go back to that room.  “God,” I whispered through chattering teeth.  “Why?”  I asked. “Why?” I looked up to the heavens, but the only answer I got in return was a rumble of distant thunder and the pitter-patter of

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-482520539906478722010-03-26T11:44:00.000-04:002010-03-26T11:44:36.647-04:00

Theology by Ted Hughes No, serpent did not Seduce Eve to the apple. All that's simply Corruption of the facts. Adam ate the apple. Eve at Adam. The serpent ate Eve. This is the dark intestine. The serpent, meanwhile, Sleeps his meal off in Paradise-- Smiling to hear God's querulous calling. Hughes, Ted.  "Theology."  Norton Anthology of Poetry.  Ed.  Margaret Ferguson, Mary Jo Salter, and

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-48069127745239098312010-03-17T01:28:00.002-04:002011-12-05T13:42:48.215-05:00

Safe Harbourby David Frechette Though Destiny did not decree That we become lovers It's in your arms I find Safe harbour from A tidal wave of woes Threatening to engulf me. Your smiling eyes are my lighthouse, Your lips seal out chaos. The smoothness and warmth of your body Keep the coarse chill of The everday world at bay. And I'm not afraid to christen you My temporary shelter from the

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-70222607334355183202010-03-16T23:58:00.002-04:002010-03-17T12:17:31.372-04:00

Question:  They say we're all on the same political boat.  We should be brothers.  But, before I accept his kinship, political, or otherwise, this is what I want to know.  Where does his loyalty lie?  Priorities, that's what I want to know.  Come the final throwback, what is he first, black or gay? I was going through one of my old notebooks and stumbled across this question.  I am pretty sure I

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-34682015240720888842010-03-16T14:33:00.001-04:002010-03-16T14:36:34.275-04:00

"Hey.  You getting in or not?" the cab driver asked. I did not reply and instead simply climbed in the back seat of the car.  I had been standing outside for the last 10 minutes trying to hail a cab and I was dripping wet from the rain. "You deaf or what?" the cab driver asked. "What?" I said in a faint whisper. "I said, 'Where to?'" he repeated. "I need to go to Washington Circle.  Down by I and

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-19442154019538428702010-03-16T02:13:00.002-04:002010-03-17T00:21:31.656-04:00

an ode to love   you are butter pecan with a hint of mocha blended into a cosmopolitan delight that eases the chill in my spine replacing it with desire that runs through me like fever and leaves behind distilled tastes of innocence purified perfection tastes of royalty not born of Kipling’s India   I’m talkin’ bout the fruit of concrete jungles of urban life fruit of trees whose

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-49283109344007488762010-03-16T02:11:00.001-04:002010-03-16T02:11:51.084-04:00

may i feel said he by e.e. cummings may i feel said he (i'll squeal said she just once said he) it's fun said she (may i touch said he how much said she alot said he) why not said she (let's go said he not too far said she what's too far said he where you are said she) may i said he (which way said she like this said he if you kiss said she may i move said he is it love said she) if you're

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-31097883352212738732010-03-04T15:35:00.002-05:002010-03-06T13:10:51.358-05:00

Poem for HueyNeed A panther in my bellyPaws heavy in my gutNo peaceJust clawsTearing at my insidesAlways wantingFreedom

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-40980780599898399032010-03-03T00:29:00.000-05:002010-03-03T00:29:33.690-05:00

What follows is an on-going bedtime story I started telling someone the other night... Eclipse, Chapter 1 Once upon a time before there was time.  Before man. Before words and deeds, there was a vast darkness simply known as The Void and at its center sat a single solitary Thought.  The Void did not speak so the Thought spent its days in silent isolation surrounded by chaos and shadows. 

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-86723503021172029352010-03-02T23:02:00.002-05:002010-03-04T16:25:18.798-05:00

I have been wondering if I will have reason to say this anytime soon.... Don't Worry My Love.... by Elvira A. Gasser  My love, our time is coming near I can't wait until we are together Sometimes you may feel lonely, but I am here And I will be your best friend forever Until the end of time my dear Until the end of time, I will be here To hold you in my arms And kiss your soul And we can

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-8486550243841264492010-02-24T02:26:00.002-05:002010-03-04T16:26:34.653-05:00

So, it has been a hot minute since the last time that I posted anything up here.  If you're wondering why please see my post entitled "The Resurrection of Calypso".  Anyway, I have decided to do a new feature, my Under-Construction pieces.  these are poems and short lines that I am working on.  More than any of my other pieces, I WANT PEOPLE TO COMMENT AND RESPOND TO THESE PIECES.  THese are raw

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-47991536477182417992010-02-24T01:47:00.000-05:002010-02-24T01:47:19.692-05:00

So for those of you who aren't in the know, my poor MacBook Pro, Calypso finally kicked the bucket.  Her screen had been messed up for a while, but because I work for non-profit pay I didn't have a cool $1,000 just laying around to get her a face lift.  So instead of doing anything about the situation, I grabbed some tape and hoped for the best. Well, she finally gave up and the screen no longer

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-90600183111193687592010-02-12T00:27:00.002-05:002010-02-12T06:36:44.734-05:00

The lights were dim as I crept into the bedroom, the sound of my feet muffled by the steady beat of the rain outside my window. Despite the downpour outside, I was determined that everything be just right. It had been three months since I last saw Terrell and everything had to be perfect for our reunion. I wanted to call the airline one more time to check and see if his flight was still on

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-30859064782771311022010-02-10T10:08:00.001-05:002010-02-10T10:45:08.172-05:00

Walks up to street corner.  Looks both ways. Carefully places wooden soap box down on the ground and climbs on top. Clears throat. White people are CRAZZZZZY! Steps down from soap box. ----------------------------------------------- I suppose that that first part begs an explanation.  Well it all began when this nameless Negro and my horde of alter egos decided to brave The District's

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-14315932131469844262010-02-10T07:24:00.002-05:002010-02-10T10:12:16.136-05:00

So, one of my readers called me out on the fact that I had yet to give and Echoes feature to a female poet and I realized they were right. Here is my first attempt to correct that with a poem from one of the fiercest sisters to ever pick-up a pen. *drum roll* Powerby Audre Lorde The difference between poetry and rhetoricis being ready to killyourselfinstead of your children. I am trapped on a

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-85154287718332293372010-02-09T09:08:00.002-05:002010-02-09T18:38:30.587-05:00

In tribute to the Saints victory at the Super Bowl I dug up this poem I wrote just after Katrina hit.  We must not forget that there are still those who suffer, still those whose lives were forever altered, and still those in need.  I offer this poem as tribute for those lost in the hopes that by remembering them we can prevent ever seeing such devastation and such blatant disregard for the lives

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-2981190892725763382010-02-07T14:16:00.000-05:002010-02-07T14:16:03.716-05:00

Longing by Paul Laurence Dunbar If you could sit with me beside      the sea to-day, And whisper with me sweetest      dreaming o'er and o'er; I think I should not find the      clouds so dim and gray, And not so loud the waves com-     plaining at the shore. If you could sit with me upon the     shore to-day, And hold my hand in yours as in     the days of old, I think I should not mind the

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-47573347084208757632010-02-05T09:17:00.000-05:002010-02-05T09:17:04.909-05:00

Prison Letter by Michael Knoll You ask what it's like here but there are no words for it. I answer difficult, painful, that man die hearing their own voices.  That answer isn't right though and I tell you now that prison is a room where a man waits with his nerves drawn tight as barbed wire, an afternoon that continues for months, that rises around his legs like water until the man is insane

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-30729876280038913712010-02-04T20:20:00.001-05:002010-02-04T23:15:07.665-05:00

Family. That word is multi-faceted and the people that I have come to associate with it do not all fit the “traditional” western interpretation of the term. So, I thought now would be a good time to introduce those people who make up my Family.  In the weeks and months to come I am sure each of them will have their stories told  But, for now a simple introduction will serve. In the beginning..

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-42055680800601653362010-02-04T16:02:00.001-05:002010-02-04T16:06:26.085-05:00

Comfort by Don Charles When you looked and           saw my Brown skin Didn't it make you          feel uncomfortable? Didn't you remember that          old blanket You used to wrap up in          when the nights go cold? Didn't you think about that          maplewood table Where you used to sit and          write letter to your daddy? Didn't you almost taste that          sweet gingerbread

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-10570191346116691652010-02-02T00:59:00.002-05:002010-02-03T11:51:06.614-05:00

Here are two poems on love.  (Valentine's Day is coming up, so give me a break, lol). They sit in balance to one and other I think.  Please leave you're comments (good or bad).  Or better yet, write a poem in response. _____________________________________________ Tryst To be held and behold in the grasp of hands The floodgates of human desire unnamed and unmanned souls burning like cold embers

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-74012681037851132572010-01-31T02:15:00.000-05:002010-01-31T02:15:23.558-05:00

I had a great lunch with a friend today and he reminded me that a poet need not be estranged from his pen for too long.  So, here is an older poem that will be accompanied by a new piece in the morning.  "-" The clock struck one and woke me up from my daze I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and looked down at the blank page Cursor flashing Life as a hyphen I begin But get lost in the space on

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-23894713217998487622010-01-25T23:28:00.004-05:002010-01-26T14:51:18.728-05:00

Here is one of my favorite poems and a nice preface to my next post.  I will finish it up tonight and post it later.  I am feeling a little melancholy at the moment and don't feel like sharing the thoughts this poem invokes.  Maybe I will sleep it off. Amorosa anticipación Jorge Luís Borges Ni la intimidad de tu frente clara como una fiesta ni la costumbre de tu cuerpo, aun misterioso y

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-49622513792948255762010-01-24T17:58:00.001-05:002010-01-24T22:31:17.120-05:00

Last week I went on a short vacation to visit family and old friends on the left coast.  It had been several months since last I'd seen anyone from my old stomping grounds so I was anticipating a trip full of spontaneous gatherings, excessive photos, and generally good vibes.  For the most part that is what I got.  There were a few exceptions including an awkward day with Waru (more on that later

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-73038714574762041082010-01-24T16:32:00.001-05:002010-01-24T18:00:08.967-05:00

So, I have decided to officially launch a new feature on the blog that I am going to call "Echoes".  Echoes will be poetry and short story posting from friends and artist I admire and think that the rest of the world need to encounter.  I have done a few of these in the past but I want to provide the feature with a little more structure. Here is the plan.  Once a week I am going to feature an

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-71394124050758409452010-01-04T00:07:00.003-05:002010-01-04T01:02:29.478-05:00

Some time ago a friend of mine wrote a short vignette and sent it my way. This is my response to it. I haven't seen her in a while, but thought I would post the vignette I wrote in response to her. It's been too long since we traded words. Empty Rooms I come with the night, and sow doubt in your dreams, seeds pregnant with need and desire. Buried beneath the frost bitten grave that stands in

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-82107604428630665912010-01-02T16:40:00.001-05:002010-01-24T16:33:44.137-05:00

Well it has been some time since last I even looked at this page. I started it after graduating college with the hopes of using it to chronicle my thoughts during the first year of me being a “real adult”. From the sporadic writing and long absence, I think it is easy to see that I wasn’t the most successful at it. But another year has come and gone and like most I have laid a laundry list

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-42392044282950188932009-08-20T00:05:00.007-04:002009-08-20T01:20:03.680-04:00

I don't even know where to start it has been so long. I started this blog a year ago when it was the trendy thing to do and although it started off kind of fresh you can see from my lack of entries that the experience grew a little stale.The past year has been an interesting one to say the least. As seems to always be the case, it was a year full of life lessons I would rather have read

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-77949139541775909182008-06-17T00:41:00.006-04:002008-06-17T01:11:14.481-04:00

I just finished up my last show of the year and Maestro has a few words so I am going to give him the floor.Fuck haters. If you aren't a triple threat don't just hate on someone who is, get off your ass and work on your skills. And to any and all who who tried to throw Golden Boy status on me, you can kiss the tips of my locks and bow down. Despite commentary from the reincarnation of Countee

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-38629443355448601382008-06-08T00:19:00.011-04:002009-08-20T00:25:18.065-04:00

Growing up isn't easy. It sounds like a cliche until you are actually going through it and that shit hits you like a ton of bricks. All I know is that the last few years have not been the easiest for me (but who ever said life was easy right?) but even with all the crap I am still here; breathing and making it more or less mostly due to help of some folks close to my heart.There are three women

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5530294216511024335.post-82394161716928065932008-05-30T22:03:00.006-04:002008-06-01T14:46:14.341-04:00

So I woke up this morning, started packing up the remnants of my life for the past 4 years, and it hit me that "shit this is it." Another chapter of my life done and now what. So I sat down and pulled out my trusty BLACK BOOK (the keeper of my inner thoughts) and tried to sort through where I've been in order to figure out where I need to be.For those of you who have been at one of these

I.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05909965471751057486noreply@blogger.com0