Already I have learned so much...teen pregnancy is EVERYWHERE I look. The street harassment continues. Sirens roar. Police roam. But here, in this family..I am loved and protected all the way out into the streets.
Quita introduces me to everyone as her sis which gives some people quite a laugh, while others just accept me as family. Marqueese and Tyrek have taken Nick and Scotty's place as protectors and never fail to watch out for me or cuss somebody out who is disrespectful.
Cliff and Sabrina leave me in awe with all they have on their plate and all they continue to do...picking up families on the street to give a ride home, late night football practices, neighborhood drama, and being there for the kids.
I cant believe I get to do this.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Dreams or Dimension?
What is real?
Abilities to taste, touch, hear, see, feel?
Desires to be?
Wishes for me?
I think myself sick
I beg the clock not to tick
What is real?
Spinning deeper into space
Falling further from spoken grace
Creating a plastic, synthetic, silicone mold
That bombards your roots, contradicts what youre told
Wake up from the dream?
No sleep till your seen!
Daydreams at night.
Nightmares at light.
What is real?
Trust who you are-wait-i cant see that far!
Trust who you know-wait-what is friend, what is foe?
Impulse drives action, is it always temporary satisfaction?
Why are you doing this? or why am i here?
Who is this soul starring back in the mirror?
Is it fate or my power?
Is it faith or the hour?
The emotion of this is too much to release, the sound is my source only when will it cease?
What is real?
You?
Me?
Him?
Her?
Tasted?
Touched?
Felt?
Heard?
Real isnt a constant, but rather a word.
What is real?
Abilities to taste, touch, hear, see, feel?
Desires to be?
Wishes for me?
I think myself sick
I beg the clock not to tick
What is real?
Spinning deeper into space
Falling further from spoken grace
Creating a plastic, synthetic, silicone mold
That bombards your roots, contradicts what youre told
Wake up from the dream?
No sleep till your seen!
Daydreams at night.
Nightmares at light.
What is real?
Trust who you are-wait-i cant see that far!
Trust who you know-wait-what is friend, what is foe?
Impulse drives action, is it always temporary satisfaction?
Why are you doing this? or why am i here?
Who is this soul starring back in the mirror?
Is it fate or my power?
Is it faith or the hour?
The emotion of this is too much to release, the sound is my source only when will it cease?
What is real?
You?
Me?
Him?
Her?
Tasted?
Touched?
Felt?
Heard?
Real isnt a constant, but rather a word.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
LOADED LETTERS.
ASSIMILIATION.
DEGREDATION.
FALSE JUSTIFICATION.
TRUE MOTIVATION.
GLOBALIZATION.
CRIPPLING TAXATION.
DEADLY COMPENSATION.
CORRUPT INCARCERATION.
PRETEND EDUCATION.
LATE TRASNPORTATION.
SLEEK GENTRIFICATION.
DRAWING WALLS TO SEPARATION.
BLOWING BONDS TO UNIFICATION.
TASTING NAMES TO STARVATION.
CLIPPING WINGS TO THE DEPENDENT GENERATION.
DEGREDATION.
FALSE JUSTIFICATION.
TRUE MOTIVATION.
GLOBALIZATION.
CRIPPLING TAXATION.
DEADLY COMPENSATION.
CORRUPT INCARCERATION.
PRETEND EDUCATION.
LATE TRASNPORTATION.
SLEEK GENTRIFICATION.
DRAWING WALLS TO SEPARATION.
BLOWING BONDS TO UNIFICATION.
TASTING NAMES TO STARVATION.
CLIPPING WINGS TO THE DEPENDENT GENERATION.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
I want to see a shrink.
June 9, 2010
I want to see a shrink.
In fact I NEED to see a shrink.
The shrink in my mind that has shrunk the bind of the book reading my prime, discovering Divine, contrasting time, tasting grime, touching behind what most see as slime. My Empire stakes the sign revealed while oceans across read my sign as a shield for pain and their gain, radical claims and praise for the sane. As if they are lacking what I found while packing and seem to misplace the trace of my face with the spin of a top that tossed my head with the herd, (at a pace completely absurd!) then ran into a fence caught up in somebody else’s missing link. I want to see a shrink.
THE shrink. Of my prior location, exquisite vocation, walled only with imagination, erasing degradation, solidifying liquidation for handfuls of edification. Walk with me. On the frail walls of my imagination to the space that lay created to be without reason, motivation, or sophistication. Only beings allowed to be. I want out of this trap cutting holes in memories rich with longevities for stories to fall down stairwells of future leaders birthed to be tall above nations with walls and people that know nothing about them. Forcing an out of the physical, into the intellectual. Out of my hand into my head. Out of my eyes into their lies. Out of my heart into new dark-nestled in images straining for dimensions beyond apprehensions of grace and love and peace and pink.
I want to see a shrink.
Or perhaps id rather see what the shrink could possibly say to the fact that their title alone goes against everything I already know too well. Perhaps a gardener could help me to grow and let me retell...with a trip to my reflection staring back from your well.
I want to see a shrink.
In fact I NEED to see a shrink.
The shrink in my mind that has shrunk the bind of the book reading my prime, discovering Divine, contrasting time, tasting grime, touching behind what most see as slime. My Empire stakes the sign revealed while oceans across read my sign as a shield for pain and their gain, radical claims and praise for the sane. As if they are lacking what I found while packing and seem to misplace the trace of my face with the spin of a top that tossed my head with the herd, (at a pace completely absurd!) then ran into a fence caught up in somebody else’s missing link. I want to see a shrink.
THE shrink. Of my prior location, exquisite vocation, walled only with imagination, erasing degradation, solidifying liquidation for handfuls of edification. Walk with me. On the frail walls of my imagination to the space that lay created to be without reason, motivation, or sophistication. Only beings allowed to be. I want out of this trap cutting holes in memories rich with longevities for stories to fall down stairwells of future leaders birthed to be tall above nations with walls and people that know nothing about them. Forcing an out of the physical, into the intellectual. Out of my hand into my head. Out of my eyes into their lies. Out of my heart into new dark-nestled in images straining for dimensions beyond apprehensions of grace and love and peace and pink.
I want to see a shrink.
Or perhaps id rather see what the shrink could possibly say to the fact that their title alone goes against everything I already know too well. Perhaps a gardener could help me to grow and let me retell...with a trip to my reflection staring back from your well.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
May 18, 2010
Wealth.
You know that stuff that dress some and starve the rest? Clothe his desire, enhance her breasts? Shape my story but take my breath? Green stuff. that breeds greedy to necessity, personality to annuity, impulse to impurity? That stuff.
Wealth.
It's a "welcome home! From Egypt or that place you were far away without freedom, clean water, bikinis, margaritas and well... money. Im so glad you are back, I bet it feels great"
Actually no. it doesn't. I don't want to roll up to 10,000 dollar remodels, gardeners cutting grass alongside their potential, security guards patrolling the gated compound of a life sized doll house duplicated in a space picture perfect for the camera, gate code in hand, smiling kids in the van, hot daughters walking pretty dogs, oh wait that's a mom, wearing her daughters clothes and her husband tom's..wealth.
You know that stuff that dress some and starve the rest? Clothe his desire, enhance her breasts? Shape my story but take my breath? Green stuff. That breeds greedy to necessity, personality to annuity, impulse to impurity? That stuff.
The weapon in the war, power over poor, wind that shuts the door, blood that paints gore, a reward for the whore, rapper alike driven by bling caught up in the sing-song of a life that waits on nothing but price. Forget who you are, what that means, where he is. Stop searching for "you" trapped in superficial stealth, screw him. Take the wealth.
It's a "welcome home! From Egypt, or that place you were far away without freedom, clean water, bikinis, margaritas, and well.. money. Im so glad youre back, I bet it feels great"
Wealth.
You know the stuff that brings tears with my ice water, criticism to my lips, and pain to my stomach (actually that could be from the parasite) Wealth is the green stuff that keeps me up at night.
Wealth.
You know that stuff that dress some and starve the rest? Clothe his desire, enhance her breasts? Shape my story but take my breath? Green stuff. that breeds greedy to necessity, personality to annuity, impulse to impurity? That stuff.
Wealth.
It's a "welcome home! From Egypt or that place you were far away without freedom, clean water, bikinis, margaritas and well... money. Im so glad you are back, I bet it feels great"
Actually no. it doesn't. I don't want to roll up to 10,000 dollar remodels, gardeners cutting grass alongside their potential, security guards patrolling the gated compound of a life sized doll house duplicated in a space picture perfect for the camera, gate code in hand, smiling kids in the van, hot daughters walking pretty dogs, oh wait that's a mom, wearing her daughters clothes and her husband tom's..wealth.
You know that stuff that dress some and starve the rest? Clothe his desire, enhance her breasts? Shape my story but take my breath? Green stuff. That breeds greedy to necessity, personality to annuity, impulse to impurity? That stuff.
The weapon in the war, power over poor, wind that shuts the door, blood that paints gore, a reward for the whore, rapper alike driven by bling caught up in the sing-song of a life that waits on nothing but price. Forget who you are, what that means, where he is. Stop searching for "you" trapped in superficial stealth, screw him. Take the wealth.
It's a "welcome home! From Egypt, or that place you were far away without freedom, clean water, bikinis, margaritas, and well.. money. Im so glad youre back, I bet it feels great"
Wealth.
You know the stuff that brings tears with my ice water, criticism to my lips, and pain to my stomach (actually that could be from the parasite) Wealth is the green stuff that keeps me up at night.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
May 8, 2010
On an axis of pain, gain and attempts to sustain a sphere of life spins into cultural change, dynamic disarrange and exotic exchange.
The reality of real never ceases to appease the doctor and diseased, children and deceased, famine and the feast. A land of real, a land to feel, a land all wish to hold and steal. Its taste will leave you longing, its teeth will leave you bleeding for the day of return or a sun that never burns, ashes without urns, desire with yearn, truth without the learn.
Christians, Muslims, Doubters must meet, which one is you which one is me.
On a road to the truth we stop for nothing but maps, some say theyre traps, disillusioned raps for the weak to hold while the steady stand bold but we know theres more to what lies in store and what to live for, without saying no to the friend or the foe for what could be and should, would be and will, if we just look up and say there is truth in your way, so i see you for you, not the garment you chose or the wealth you abuse, but the heart you hold dear between fingers of fear and pain driven tears- Just. Like. Mine.
Christians, Muslims, Doubters must meet, which one is you which one is me.
On an axis of pain, gain and attempts to sustain a sphere of life spins into cultural change, dynamic disarrange and exotic exchange.
The reality of real never ceases to appease the doctor and diseased, children and deceased, famine and the feast. A land of real, a land to feel, a land all wish to hold and steal. Its taste will leave you longing, its teeth will leave you bleeding for the day of return or a sun that never burns, ashes without urns, desire with yearn, truth without the learn.
Christians, Muslims, Doubters must meet, which one is you which one is me.
On a road to the truth we stop for nothing but maps, some say theyre traps, disillusioned raps for the weak to hold while the steady stand bold but we know theres more to what lies in store and what to live for, without saying no to the friend or the foe for what could be and should, would be and will, if we just look up and say there is truth in your way, so i see you for you, not the garment you chose or the wealth you abuse, but the heart you hold dear between fingers of fear and pain driven tears- Just. Like. Mine.
Christians, Muslims, Doubters must meet, which one is you which one is me.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
May 3, 2010
I have been dropped into a false reality, or so my senses conclude. There is nothing but cleanliness and seclusion, technology and illusion. Pretty people adorned with pretty things living in a pretty place without any sort of contrasting dimensional space. How do I reason with this culture I am told to embrace for its familiarity when I find it difficult to even open my eyes? I can't get myself to open my closet and really see what fills the shelves. I am wearing only clothes out of my suitcase all of which fulfill the modesty standards of the Middle East-definitely not that of sunny California. I can't get myself to listen to conversations of petty pleasures followed by offensive language and enthusiastic comments for immoral behavior on television, all of which i never thought twice about 6 months ago. Where is the community? Where are the men sitting in ahwas talking day in and day out about life and its nature? Where are the women gathered together in the home behind walls of social norms who smile and dance to the beats of Arabia without a veil to stop them? Where is the call to prayer? And the presence of God before everything? I cant seem to hear it from my bedroom anymore. Perhaps the microphone is broken, the Imam is whispering or I am sleeping too soundly in the consciousness of a culture I am supposed to know but cant seem to remember anything about.
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