Archive for the ‘LifeMinded blog’ Category

The Golden Beam

I live in this world

I am not from another planet

My existence relies on the Sun and its light

I study the light because it gives me the ability to see God

We know the speed of light

We know the Sun’s rays are made of particles, photons

I raise my arm from side to side measuring the displacement

to replicate the wave length

God sent us this light

because God is light

God needs light to be God 

God is on this planet

And all of us

We are on this planet

We are of this planet

We are of the light

and due to our connection to our wonderful star

we are also beyond this planet

God is the mountains absorbing every inch of nearly 93 million miles of light

a continuous beam of God 

reaching out to touch 

nothing other than another form of its very own self

God is every plant and animal on the mountains turning its light 

into its life

God is the ocean reflecting photons 

and glistening in its glory

Warming the seas and providing the chance to live to creatures deep below

down to fathoms beyond where any measure of light is detectable

though its reach is there

Providing breath to the deepest trench

where God can still be found

God is in the cities

rich with footprints and endless in the energy of progress

God is in the villages with the Godly people who travel down roads 

bathing themselves in their own light

God is in the sunflowers as much as the ivy

the elk as much as the otter

the falcon as much as the serpent

The nobility and the peasant have equal light inside of them

God is in the many as well as the few

God is in 

and is

our planet

God is a sick fish absorbing micro-plastics

God is a jungle turned to wasteland

God is a river run dry

God is a village turned warzone because diamonds were found

God is the love that every thing needs

God is in the every thing that is needing that love

God is today as equally as tomorrow

Tomorrow the same as yesterday

God is an African-American lesbian

God is a father who loves the God inside his children

traveling across lands for their safety

God is in the dying mother with no access to medicine

God is the human with no rights

God is in the children stolen into slavery

God is in the boy who loves his best friend with all his bravery and might

God is the altar boy

God is the light that cannot be dimmed

The light that permeates and feeds

The light that reflects and shines

The love that warms

The love that connects us

The love that can be challenged but not broken

The love that can be ignored but never forgotten

The light that refracts into all colors

The colors that create every image

You are of this world 

As much as beyond it

You are the light equally of here 

as of there

Because you are nothing without it

Because you are nothing without God

Because you can only be you

You can only be God

Like everything else

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He sat still. Motionless. Brooding.

The room was quiet though a deafening anger was bubbling under the surface. Restrained, he sat in a state of silence until he heard the anticipated click of the latch as the door was opened allowing a hesitating, lowly figure to enter.

Smelling of stews and spices from the kitchen many floors below she entered the room delicately, asking for permission before every step. The towering doors closed behind her and she found herself within reach of the short trio of stairs leading to the throne, upon which only royalty may tread.

“You’ve had a very peculiar pattern ever since you first came to be in my service. The only thing I can deduct is that you undeniably fear the day you present yourself in a timely manner would be your last on this earth.” He paused for effect. “I think you must think it would kill you to be of even the most minimal of use to this castle much less deliver my afternoon tea at the correct time.”

She looked at him with as if the statement had thrown her from the room. She didn’t answer for some time.

Then – “Lord…”

“No.” He said cutting her like a whip despite his slow and calculated speech. She winced, dodging his gaze and halting her words as quickly. He waited until she dared return her eyes back to him.

“I haven’t had a good tea in a week. Making me wait for something that tasted like burned molasses two days ago would have given me reason to dismiss you.”

“My Lord, I could never be sorry enough. In your infinite mercy to which I am not worthy surely there’s an ounce you can spare for a mourning wife and mother.”

“Mercy. I had mercy on you enough when I drank such a foul concoction.”

“My Lord, you finished your cup. The pitcher even was light when I returned it to the kitchen. I thought surely you must approve…”

“I’ve never tasted anything so awful in my life. It didn’t arrive until after I had my afternoon constitutional. I was so parched I couldn’t help but choke down that grueling mess you called a tea. What have you possibly been using from my cupboard?”

Her eyes melted back to the floor.

“There’s no need to tell me anything that isn’t true” he said with great pacing, “nor waste your time to tell me anything I already know.”

She considered his words.


Her eyes reflexively darted to the ground as if dodging a spear. Though she averted his glare the radiation of the stare remained as visual to her as if he had cast a net over her very mind and trapped her.

“It takes time my Lord. The other women, they don’t let me start my brewing early. It takes time…” she said pleadingly.

“I’m an understanding king. I always have been. But what you have done is an atrocious act upon one of our land’s most sacred traditions.” He paused. “Who are we if not civilized beyond that of our peers?”

He choked, seemingly from his own disdain, for a moment without warning. He worked on containing his cough for several seconds before lowering his hand from his mouth and fixing his stair back on the servant girl. He looked at her pointedly and with purpose, like the tip of an arrow fixed on a quarry. He stared at her bonneted cap carefully fitted onto her head. He noticed despite the lack of any becoming measure to her service she managed the attire over her person with the utmost attention. Not a hair strayed from the decorative boundary of her headpiece and no scrap of skin was visible beneath her collar save for her hands which were void of any dirt or calluses common to peasant women.

“My Lord…” but he cut her through again. This time with more haste and a growing fire that had, until now, been only smoldering below. “A woman of your station, you know doubt are aware, is worth less than the leaves you so carelessly and improvidently destroy during your failure of an effort to conjure me a proper tea.” He choked on another go at the cup that had been set before him, the final threads of steam rising from its surface and dissipating into nothingness.

“I’ll remind you and your entire village from once you hailed the consequence of outlasting my patience. Need you be told again of Cornwall and the havoc my soldiers brought so they might understand the depth of my fury once it has been unleashed? Their people were ablaze with the fieriest shocks of hair one has ever seen. They say their strands of red nearly outshone the sun, but that’s not all that was on fire that day not so long ago. They burned like the common miscreants and waste of lands they were.” Noticing he had come to slouch he straightened himself, rising tall against the back of the throne, allowing him to look down upon her to an ever more intense angle.

“Now… girl… from what lowly place did you come to me?” and he coughed, nearly cutting short his provocation. He looked to his cup to provide relief, took a short sip and launched a cavernous dry cough from the depths of his belly, throwing the cup carelessly as he challenged himself for composure, begging for air. “For God’s sake what tea is?!” he screeched having forbade all sense of restraint.”

“It’s boxby sire.”

With this he stopped, motionless for a second, he studied her as if scanning for a shred of evidence to her truthfulness. “Ah, you conniving idiot. Boxby kills one in an instant. And has the acidity of a hundred…” but his breath was cut short.

“Boxby has no taste once a broth of argis has been consumed. The effect can last for days.” she calmly replied, politely yet with a sense of pride yet unseen since she entered. He looked at her, hand held to his face, laboring short but violent breaths through and around his palm and fingers. He looked at her, searching to make sense of her words.

She continued.

“My Lord,” straightening herself, “three days ago you enjoyed nearly half a pitcher of tea made from a mixture of Cairns roots and your customary blend of exotics from the kitchen. I would have never expected you to take such a helping, but as you so declared, the delay in service meant your tea didn’t arrive until after your constitutional, at which point you were parched beyond reason. Cairns root, in my village, is used to retain elements in the body. Opposite of a cleansing agent it can slow the absorption so medicinal herbs or things of that nature might remain longer in one’s system. The argis from yesterday’s tea would therefor remain for several days beyond the one whence it was consumed. Having no real flavor, it merely ads a thick or sometimes oily texture to any combination of drink with which it is brewed. Boxby, however, has a unique and highly suspicious aroma of course but one cannot detect its subtle hints and toxic elements whilst argis runs throughout.”

She gazed upon him as he sat, head tilted, arms hanging loosely over the sides of the glistening throne. His eyes, though weak, were ablaze as she had never seen. She could detect movement in his pupils as they darted up & down her figure as if seeking to identify her nature. She reached up to her chin, one of her very few movements since first being summoned into his presence, and untied the strings releasing her bonnet. “Of course, Cairns root delays the effects of any remedy or cure, so most people are unfamiliar with the taste as it is counterintuitive to use with argis in the healing process, though I noticed it works the same for toxins as well. So you of course are so impossibly correct, My Lord – boxby is commonly an instant death, though with Cairns root I imagine the full effect can expected to be seen within a very short time nonetheless. It slowed the release of the argis as it is delaying the boxby’s absorption. Should you have dismissed my service after the second day I would have needed an alternative opportunity to serve you the tea with the boxby. But as you said, you are a very merciful Lord, the likes of which we do not deserve.”

Her eyes softened as they slowly inspected the limp body slumped down into the seat. She pulled her bonnet from covering her head, folded it in half, and then half again, and stowed it in her apron. She moved herself a short bit forward to stand on the bottommost step which was enough to put herself at eye-level with the wilted king.

“I’m sorry you have not liked my tea, My Lord. I do apologize for the delay but my drinks are made from various roots which take longer to effectively brew than if they were simply tea leaves. With your permission, My Lord, I will let myself out and return to where I came. We have much work to do there, what’s left of us.”

She gave an abridged version of a formal bow to her majesty and turned, leaving the room without a sound. With a silent breath the last bit of heat left the cruel, fading king and dissipated into nothingness. The sun lowered slowly in the sky and poured boldly through the court’s sweeping windows; the bounding light striking a scattering of fierce strands of hair set ablaze on the floor, fiery as any ever seen, nearly outshining the sun itself.

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Ever since I was a knobby headed snotty kid
with sloppy clothes & slob appearance
shoddy lyrics potty mouth and not committed 
I could hear it 
poppin on those rocker boxes
toppling my body parts & going partly non-responsive
rappin was the hottest topic.
party where the cops are watching 
bombing up the parking lots & 
watching where the heads are noddin
hoppin scotch & double dutchin
droppin stuff & now we got them Otterboxes.
rhyming to the 1 & 2’in
movin you to groove upon it
beats & rhymes the reason I
am still at school in afternoons
people’s trunks are open, showing off the volume how u doin’
speakers bumpin, tweeters knockin
all the parks are live & poppin.
kick a few to blow your socks 
stepping to the baddest boxing
miniscule to mighty oxen
moccasins are bitin often 
spitting fuel that’s raw & toxic.
interview the mind of Spock &
watch a couple dreads unlocking
picking up what I am droppin
corner stone to corner coffin.
mamas in their rollers on the porches 
babies in pajamas
ladies in their finest, sun is shinin
bring it back to basics, place it in the perfect timing.
girl is fine & guys are trying to get attention spitting rhymes
or showing off their newest tapes to make ’em say “Oh where’d you find it?”
I been on my grind & steady shinin’ back in ’89
you see me pressin play and often pausing, pushing fast rewinding
fat was fly & fresh was nice, enticing every rap device
& dicing out the fairest slice on any brand of stereo types
I carry no hype but keep it tight in spite of other rapper’s reps
eventually I’ll meet my match although hasn’t happened yet
I’m trackin the way that back in the day the music used to pack a wallop
fattest laces wrapping through Adidas leather woven eyelets
double deck cassette recorder equalizer radio waves
can bring the sun from out the clouds and freshen up the rainier days
remember back when we was young and fun was all we was about
before a bunch of hyper active rappers started runnin’ their mouths
I wanna rebound from dumbing it down for lyricists I can’t debate
let’s take it back to breaking, making beats and shaking cans of paint

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For two years now I’ve been fortunate enough to be holistically bound to the most magical creature through life, through love, through law, and through marriage. Every day and every week we water seeds with the joy of the present with hopes they will blossom and grow into a fruitful tomorrow. We nurture the very soils of our souls and plant gardens for our future. It’s really I who am the most lucky because she’s a truly unforgettable, beautiful person. There’s no person I spend more time thinking about than she.

I love our life not only for the things we have, but the things we don’t. The things we are working towards make me equally happy because these gaps in how we live, in what we do, in what we own – we will fill them in together. There’s such an abundance of things we have yet to achieve and as we move forward we’ll change and improve both of our lives through joint-efforts where each endeavor and every victory is an additional step up the mountain on this lifelong hike.

Over the years I’ve known her I’ve been inspired by her actions, her words, and often simply her presence so much to the point I jot down brief instances in little notes I keep to myself. The best day of my life, is any day when we’re at home just me & her. You can’t beat it. Her heart is elysian. She is assiduous about those close to her and shows it in her every surprising thought and idea that reveals a genuine appreciation for others and the desire to actively contribute to nearly every facet of the world as it revolves around her. It’s rare for her not to jump in to any situation and not want to help or take part.

We aren’t plastered across social media. We don’t post on Facebook boasting to the anonymous world how great is the other person. Neither of us feels compelled to aggrandize the other which just cheapens the core value of the object to which one is trying to over-assert. Greatness doesn’t require that kind of publicity and neither of us require such superficial cheerleading. The romance of energetic feelings and the sentiments that arise from personal experiences with one another are always welcome in the real world however.

She is also not my best friend. She’s better than my best friend. I’ve had best friends. They change. Some of them fail to even be friends of any caliber later. When people say “I Love You. You’re My Best Friend!” I think it’s great if you love your best friend, but that’s no compliment for your spouse who is, in my opinion, meant to be much more than that. When I got married I didn’t want a best friend I wanted a wife. I wanted a partner for life. I wanted the other half of the equation with whom I would team up and walk this amazing journey of days until we come to the end of the road and take our final rest. Of course I wanted somebody with whom to make jokes and go out to eat but can’t I find that in nearly anyone? I wanted my 1st wife, not my 5th best friend. Friends are islands. My wife is a continent.

She’s quite amazing. She impresses me on a reoccurring basis. And her husband is pretty great on occasion too.



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You can love an old man

You can love a cranky old fart

You don’t have to like all their ways

but you can still love the heart

You can love him like he’s an old drunk who shoots off his mouth

You can love him because you know he’s out of touch

You can love him because his life has been different than yours

You can love him for all the things he lacks

You don’t have to excuse everything he does

You don’t have to look away from everything he says just because of who he is

You don’t have to ignore the things he has said

You can hold him accountable for the things

You can help him improve

You can love the person he is because he is still a person

You can love him for what good he has done in his lifetime

You can love him like a ludicrous product from a crazy world

You can understand that life taught him lessons we have not had the experience to learn

You can acknowledge that he may have been exempt from learning many of life’s best lessons

You can love an old man no matter how belligerent or angry

You can love an old malcontent not for the mal but because of the content

You can give him a break for being wrong

You can love him for his mistakes

You can love an old man because somewhere deep down we all are good

You can give him the chance to be better

You can love an old man

You can love a cranky old fart

but don’t make him president

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It’s hard to look closely and recognize everything that we have lost on the small scale. Usually we do keep ourselves focused on the here and now when we could instead benefit from gazing at the larger picture. But that’s not the case here. I’d like to look closely and focus on the minute details that, once isolated, are easy to excuse. To focus on these grains of sand is difficult though because they incessantly start to blur until you can only recognize the beach that they pile together to form.

The beach is just easier to see.

All the things we’ve lost are thrown carelessly into this oblivion. Each singular identity becomes lost into the greater appearance of the coast.

We all know people either like or don’t like the beach.

As the winds shift our lives around in the swirling fates of unpredictable destiny I can see the traces of the dead.

As the sea laps its gasping tongue against the shores of what is gone it creates a middle ground that is neither living nor dead. No soul has ever sustained their existence in this trench of the void for very long before having to commit to the sand or the sea. We saw my grandparents traipse this watery slope as they left their life of the ocean to the sedentary dunes of the beach. To the still land where rest is complete. We saw my uncle slide gradually from life to land and now the times of his life have left the tides to remain off shore where they dry and scatter in the winds that influence us all. Yet occasionally a soul will leave the mighty deep, where colors and textures drift freely amongst the varying temperatures and life, to cast itself upon the rinsing shelf of the surf, where the turbulence of change, and the pressure of the life left behind tries mercilessly to pull back its lost treasure into the bath of boundless possibilities.

Rarely has one washed up onto the middle ground between awake and asleep so early and remained for so long. The blank space between here and there is no place to take up residence.

That is a soul lost to nothing; not to death nor to complete loss, but a wanderer to nowhere – a place of waste. For a time that, itself, becomes waste. We’ve lost beautiful souls to death – the loss that unites us all. It’s on rare occurrence we lose a soul purely and purposely to the beach itself. That is not its place but that is where it remains.

When a ball tries to roll into the sea it rides the edge of the water as it laps back and forth on the sands until it is ultimately cast back to the land where it belongs. When a buoy attempts to float onto the beach from the rolling ocean the endlessly moving surface of the water gently pulls it back to the wide open sea where it too is meant to be.

When a body washes to the shore the natural cycles of the Earth attempt to pull it back to the drift of the waters, to return it to its natural place in time. Its timely progression will occur on schedule as it is meant to occur along the path of its natural rhythm. We’ll all be pulled back to sea until the time is right to be cast from its lively waters and deposited into the drying, decaying sands and soils of the land.

I don’t know what this one body is doing, disregarding its aqueous alignment and repudiating its remaining days burgeoning amongst its peers until it is delivered felicitously from the depths. A voluntary despiriting of desperation. A martyr for martyr-sake.

Don’t wish for the beach ahead of your own schedule. Don’t wish for the beach before it is your time. The beach just might accept you.

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the R-word

I have thought a number of times that the R-word is my N-word.

Well, not exactly.

The N-word, what with its history of torture, pain, and suffering isn’t exactly the same as using the R-word. The N-word I don’t believe has any possible meaning other than to degrade another person.

It’s used between and amongst African-Americans, sometimes jokingly or showing friendship, and sometimes showing hostility or as a put-down. But all that’s another story and another whole conversation.

It’s your European-Americans (white people), and all other nationalities and cultures to whom the N-word is off-limits socially; with good reason. So in the past when I’ve used the word “retarded”, it’s not quite the same thing as a term that invokes the legacy of hatred as achieved through centuries of systemic racism and personal, direct degradation.

So it’s not the same. I think the R-word might be my Confederate Flag actually.

Hold on, though. Let’s take a step back.

The R-word is a real word. The word “retarded” has some varying definitions at this point in time. Google first and foremost returns with its meaning as “less advanced in mental, physical, or social development than is usual for one’s age”, a definition it also deems as dated and also offensive. It also has the meaning of being “very foolish or stupid”, similarly coined as informal and still offensive.

Merriam-Webster: “slow or limited in intellectual or emotional development”, with the post-script sometimes offensive.

We can go on but you get the point; a real word that was taken on by society and used in a widespread way to the point where the meaning has changed.

I grew up where kids called each other “retarded” and no one thought much about it. It was another era, which makes an excuse for then, but is no excuse for now.

It was years ago I first saw a campaign that brought attention to the hurtful and undermining uses of the word “retarded”. It was probably long overdue to shed light on something that has the potential to be as hurtful as this word.

I argue the R-word and the N-word aren’t even in the same ballpark, though I do think they’re similar in the way they’re hurtful words usually chosen to be directed towards someone who has no control over their condition whatsoever or in any way. A person can’t choose their born nationality, skin color, or culture any more than they can their naturally-born mental, physical, or emotional abilities (or inabilities). A person is born an African, a Christian, or with Down’s syndrome as simply as being born blonde, or poor.

We’re moving on from the N-word because the relationship is too weak between that and the R-word.

The R-word is also a verb. It’s used in science to describe the influence of a chemical that can slow down the speed of a reaction, or in general the verb means to delay or hold back progress.

“The process has been retarded by a strong combination of indecision and lack of leadership”.

After childhood I’ve most often thought of the verb form of the word and used it appropriately when speaking.  It rarely came out of my mouth as a means to describe how stupid a process or decision might be – but rarely still does indeed mean sometimes.

I’m not perfect; not trying to be hurtful.

The R-word campaign (R-Word.org) came about years ago to discuss the topic and to ask people to think before the next time they say it. The R-word doesn’t dawn on most people as potentially being all too bad, but if you ponder the social connotations it’s easy to understand how and to whom might be affected by the trivial use of this word.

When I think of my top 10 list of offensive words or derogative terms it wasn’t the first word to come to mind. It probably would have been around #15, after all the various racial slurs and crude terminologies that have been created over the years. So even though I don’t think I ever upset somebody by my use of the word, I could easily and quickly identify the potential. If I’m to minimize the suffering of people around me and uplift my fellow humans around me I wouldn’t want to call them something that would hurt them, even light-heartedly, jokingly, or indirectly.

To go back in time just a little bit, the word didn’t taste like gasoline on my tongue or make me feel ashamed later in the day if I had used it. But I know it wasn’t right. It wasn’t positive. I’ll take sides with the R-Word Campaign people and even say it is probably most often used offensively; even if it has alternative meanings and connotations.

This is what puts it in the category to become something similar to the Confederate Flag.

It’s the ability to learn that makes us a higher species, if you want to call us that. It’s the ability to learn that makes us human in the highest sense of the word; to adapt and to respond appropriately.

The Confederate Flag also has its hurtful meanings to lots of people – just like the R-word.

It has a history that differs from some of the current-day definitions and emotional responses it causes – just like the R-word.

It too is something a person can use without the intention of hurting another person.

In effect, the R-word is a thing I don’t have any problem with in its original form. But after I see how other people have used it, which has been to isolate, or hurt the dignity of another human being, then I see the harm it can cause.

Once I came to learn and realize that although this word isn’t by definition a bad thing, but to entire populations of people it is something that causes hurt or insult, then I had to adjust myself.

My speech. My thinking.

Once my thinking changed that is when I had learned, adapted, and essentially one tiny cell in my body and one small component of my soul evolved into something greater, though miniscule as it may be.

And therefor I remain dumfounded by the Confederate Flag and the adamancy with which people defend its symbolism.  It has a history, the various components of which one can argue until the end of time, but it is also something that time and society has altered. The Buddhists don’t continue to capitalize on the symbol that later became the German swastika even though to them it was a religious symbol centuries before the Nazi Nationalist Party existed.

People often use the “old days” or “I’m from another generation” as an attempt at reason in trying to dismiss or legitimize the continued use of the N-word. Similar claims of “heritage” and “history” tend to surround the prolonged use of the Confederate Flag.

They both should have been long retired.

I feel that way about the R-word nowadays. We might have made mistakes in the past or maybe things have just changed in the world we live in, but we have to change with it either way. We have to accept what people tell us when they say something causes suffering. I don’t have any intention to argue with someone that the R-word has meanings that don’t have to be necessarily insulting or offensive. I instead attempt to understand, and once I understand, I accept.

Today the final Confederate statue came down in New Orleans. I hope one day I’ll look back on this day and realize how much further we’ve come since this day; it was yet another small step to discontinue the idolized worship of our most misled and embarrassing 4 years as a young country. Holding on to the ideals of this era demoralizes the common man and woman. I hope in my example of learning, realizing, and accepting the hurtful use of the R-word that others might come to similarly learn, realize, and accept the hurtful use of the Confederate imagery.

As New Orleans’ Governor Mitch Landrieu said to his fellow New Orleaneans today, we are able to “choose a better future for ourselves, making straight what has been crooked and making right what was wrong. Otherwise, we will continue to pay a price with discord, with division and, yes, with violence. To literally put the Confederacy on a pedestal in our most prominent places of honor is… an affront to our present, and it is a bad prescription for our future.”

The lesson for me is when someone tells you you’re being hurtful you should believe them. Reach into the deeper parts of your soul where you find your humanity, and love for others, and try to understand why. If it challenges one or many of your long-held beliefs then give it time and continue to think about it. Return your thoughts to the first step – listen – as you struggle to move onto learn. If you believe you’re on a path to reduce suffering you will eventually find yourself at the final step – change.

Our stubbornness is nothing more than a break pedal on the highway of life. It’s the changing of our minds that is the changing of gears allowing us to go forward faster.

Think with positivity. Speak with compassion. Act with empathy. Breathe with the rest of humanity.

Retire the R-word.

Retire the Confederate flag.

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Ten Poems


Peace starts with me and the people that I talk to

Love is as old as the hills that I walk through

Freedom is expensive and you’re gonna have to argue

Justice only shows its head when life has double-crossed you

The lessons come with patience and a price that’s unexpected

But happiness is with me every second

We’re connected. 


I stand in the wind both arms in the air

hands to the sky, chin high unaware

One being, flesh & bone seeing life in his eyes

sunlight be the whole key invited to rise

like sight to the blind or light to the sightless

vision to the young women, men & the righteous

now we gonna light this torch with the passion

fire on the rise these hands gonna pass it

head in the clouds how long has it lasted

face in the past both hands unmask it

step out the race break away unfastened

chill for a minute with your legs on the hassett

speak til you’ve lost all blood in your cheek

fight for the weak, life’s bleek for the meek

try’n to plug these leaks going week after week

my hunger for love gon’ flood these streets

I’ll keep to the script, tight lipped with the secret

frequent the sequence known to defeat shit

freak with sinking ships thinking I’m deep

    thinking I’mma walk both sides of the street

my wise poetry hides potency openly

speaking real words til the world starts noticing

dig with a pen, these seeds grow hope

just feed what you want and starve what you don’t

break bread with your best friend, breath with your brethren –

listen to the lessons – they’ve been referenced

next in the line, you’re destined to rise

this light gon’ shine

    my life in the sky

draw heat from your whole heart, march to the beat

compete with yourself to clean what you think

speak to your weakness, get your holes filled in

give to the children what you been building

love your brothers, all race and all colors

no hope in the world if we don’t love others


The day we die we’ll realize how silly we were

Until that day we’ll think but never be sure

We’ll remember our roots that stretch through and through

That we have the same baseline, heart rhythm too

We’ll see how fast the years passed by and wonder if 

we lived it to the fullest or did we blunder it

We won’t be concerned about money

We’ll be thinking about our family

We’ll be smiling at our friends

transcending gravity

The day we all die and say bye to the world

we’ll realize how silly we were

for sure.


You’re the light in my eyes

You’re the sight in my life

You’re a blinding surprise until I close them at night

You’re my wheel on the runway

landing at home

Where the cardinals chirp

to the beat of this poem


I remember holding a pen-cil
getting started back in kindergarten it was intense still 
I’d sit ’til I mastered the print while my friends studied the sten-cil
My lines got nice as I worked it
from block letters to cursive
my classmates copied off the wordsmith
but grades were not the purpose 
A’s were just my service
the days would pass I’m sure it’s
how a hobby starts to surface
Then I turned up the ways
I could turn out a phrase 
My knowledge grew on college ruled I could fit more words on a page
this amateur walked from pencils to Manitowac Bic pens
It instilled some big grins
I’d read what I’d write share it with kids and get friends
While some sat limp in their chair like a test dummy
I felt I had an outlet that let out the best of me
I read more and saw Dr. Seuss as truth
the places I’d go if I grew my roots
and I loved The Grinch it’s
a mastery of balancing Halloween with Christmas
the green monster sponsored me to write some stories
with some children’s poetry that I expect was boring
But I wasn’t up for recognition fame or exhibition
just a game to stretch the little thoughts envisioned into diction
I’d hit the pages with the best imagination
writing nonsense in a way that would last from days to decades
still thoughts flipped fast to pass as animation
ink for the script but lead for the test page
I knew the best ways to skewer essays
get the best grades and start the next phase
I make change in the wake plus make what’s in front of me
I try to stand tall to get these words from under me


She’s my angel out of thin air. She carries thoughts of contentment from which the smell of Spring receives its sweetness. The dew drops fall more thickly from the petals that surround. The clouds roll as oceanic ripples from her heartbeat. She is epic. 


i weigh the sun rise as mourning for the day that came before it

and take exception to the soul that might ignore it as expected

the honor in the moment when the night is pushed to margins

is the heart of all beginnings when a dream is resurrected

i’ve seen it many times respected double takes and second glances

bring advances to the spectrum known to limit my perception

engulfed, adrift in memories of unprotected yesterday

the lessons play a stringing web of tangible connection

we dance between the hours where the moments seem to carry on

the mechanized occurence of this atmospheric marathon

if the warmth that i embrace can only settle on me briefly

i’ll pay the movements to the music for the heat that never leaves me

trade winds with breath blessings for the melodies created, scale the measures of tomorrow in the timing once balanced

rise to the tunes plucked on latitude arrangements and represent the harmony erupting unchallenged

if destiny can strike a chord elusive to progression few could hesitate to bring the message from the swirling currents

but expectedly the rhythms scintillate with hurling purpose

and can dignify occurence of the moments we perfected


the rain

like tiny drops of heavens

falling down to all of us

tapping my shoulders

wetting my head with love

feeding the soil and my soul


fire flies

fidgeting flights of twilight

jittery whimsical sights 

flashing signals of life

a quick glimpse for tired eyes

flittering fluttery heights

shining slowly 

flashing hiding

flying glowing

making their rounds at nights

tiny invaders

silent indicators

rising with flare

riders on an invisible carousel of air

quietly drifting

calmly shifting

at dusk we all come here


I’ve learned

it’s easy to make life look normal

it’s easy to make life look fun

it’s easy to make life look.

I’ve learned

it’s possible to go far

it’s possible to change course

it’s possible to.

I’ve learned

we all are on our way

we all are important

we all are.

I’ve learned

there’s a way for you

there’s a way for them

there’s a way.

I’ve learned

you have to sing

you have to try

you have to.

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We Are People Of The World.

We feel each other’s presence in this global whirlpool

where spirits travel on trade winds

and pheromones of foreign bodies infuse the space around them.

We exist with one another like ancient tribal families

who dance around the same fire and share cave space

with equal protection from rain and wind.

We feel each other’s pain when an appendage of

our communal body is mistreated or damaged.

We share in the unifying joy of accomplishment

as when the gravity around one individual is weakened

we all rise with them.

We Are People Of The World and our village is vast.

Our hearts are joined with brick and mortar

so no wedge can separate our unified bodies.

No idea can interfere in our cohesion.

No person can interrupt our harmony.

We dance like a constellation across the heavens

moving to the natural oscillation of our soul winds.

Our vision is gifted from celestial knowledge

guided by timeless wisdom renewed daily with the rise of the sun

as its life-giving glow breaks the crevice of the horizon.

Our pulse is part of a collective rhythm

growing increasingly perfect with each measure.

We Are People Of The World

and despite the tectonic shifts that move our planet

and spread the seafloor there is no separating our family.

We walk the same Earth and share the same warmth

nutrifying all bodies with the same energy.

We are one existence.

We eat different meals at different times

but we give the same thanks.

We share the same gratitude for another day of life

and hug our families with the same ferocity.

We cannot be turned against one another.

We support each other beyond any claims laid by nations.

We come together and appear homogenous

despite the various shades of skin reflecting from our faces.

There is no religion can that divide us.

We Are People Of The World and our identity is one.

Though some of us have never met

we stand with our spiritual arms linked

in a chain of humanistic unity

signifying the goodness inherent between brothers and sisters.

We are the family through which existence continues.

We are the life that prevails despite the evil that brings death.

We are the natural spirit that aligns all people

amidst the deceptions peddled

by those set to benefit from our conflict.

We are love without fail.

We are achievement without effort.

Our destiny is a timeless renewal of hope and progress.

We live on time with today.

We are the promise that brings a more beautiful tomorrow.

We Are People Of The World with no reason to hide.

We have a global network of caring faces.

We are there for our friends when they find themselves trapped.

We reach out our hands to pick each other up from the ground.

We speak up for each other and speak well of each other.

There’s no division amongst our ranks.

There’s no hierarchy between our members.

We are the natural order that cannot be compromised by politics

or religion.

We carry each other’s flags and wave them

because they are our own.

We represent the freedom to live that is inherent in all places.

Our shine cannot become dull as long as there is breath in our lungs.

Our eyes are collectively radiant.

We are the world in all its magic and majesty.

We are the love between all things.


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2016 Wrap Up

During the final hours of 2015 I was thinking about how the more I got back to what is real in my life, the more life felt like an epic dream. In 2016 the dream continued. Nothing has ever been more rewarding than focusing on what’s real, wiping away all the fuzz, slowing down, thinking positively, appreciating the small moments, living quietly and in appreciation, striving for mindfulness, trying to make actions more deliberate, and trying to see more clearly whenever possible. Marrying a bright, thoughtful ray of starlight only added to the luxury of being alive.
Our friends grew in number this year, adding several new people and families to the small but quality list of people who are there to share a laugh or help you up when you’re down. Our friends Hans and Jessie we met back in the spring time and went on to become family. Over the course of the year we met nearly weekly to cook dinner and play Catan until the wee hours of the morning. We celebrated birthdays and became Godparents to their youngest, Evyn. I think they have been one of the largest contributors to the past year.
We went to Taiwan and celebrated our marriage in a traditional reception with all my wife’s friends and family who poured in from all corners of the country to welcome me and smile and sing the praises of my wife. We celebrated our 1-year anniversary about the same time.
We had a great summer planting a little garden again. We went tubing down the James and celebrated my wife’s birthday with the most excellent dinner at Acacia. We went to the Lebanese, Greek, and Italian Food Festivals, Broad Appetit, and MakersFest at the Science Museum. I finally saw Aesop Rock, one of my favorite artists, for the first time and had the great pleasure of seeing Sharon Jones for the 3rd time before passing away a month ago. She was a woman who really affected her listeners and audience. I have no idea how some people do this but she made you feel like you knew her personally. She was accessible to her fans and there was an emotional connection between her and us. She went from corrections officer to the almighty Queen of Soul, not recording or releasing an album until much later in life but sky rocketing to the top of the genre with much love and support from her band The Dapp Kings. She battled cancer headfirst and was very open about her experience and attitude towards life all along the way. She talked to us all as an audience during her concert this summer about how she had been beaten down but was never going to let herself stay down. “I have cancer”, she’d say. “But I told Cancer – you don’t have me!” Later I read about how after she returned to the stage how it was never the same for her. Her shows were full of such soul, and impromptu acts of music. She would dance every soul and funk dance I’ve ever heard of. “Now I’mma do the wop” she’d say going dance after dance through song after song. She went through her same routines with her new and freshly short cut hair and things seemed nearly the same, but she said it took so much more energy now. It was great to see her in-person, before and especially after her battle. It hit me like a ton of bricks with NPR emailed me the headline “Sharon Jones dies of cancer.” Cancer killed her body, but it never touched her soul.
My wife had a surgery this summer that let her be relieved of pain. As tough as she actually is, it had really grown intolerable and I felt bad for her to have to live with such discomfort. Her surgery gave us a cancer scare but in the end it gave me the opportunity to take extra care of her, allowed our friends to come over and show how much they care, and it introduced us to a very good surgeon with whom we really enjoyed working but hope we don’t have to see ever again. Things slowed down for a while during her recovery but she was on her feet faster than one might expect.
We were blessed that my wife found gainful employment this year also. First was working with my sister part-time and later she came upon a part-time job working for the state of Virginia that could actually offer her full-time hours until the end of the year. She returned to work quickly after her surgery and even started interviewing for other full-time permanent positions since the one she had was contractual and time-limited. Her boss at the state ended up becoming a friend and part of the family as well. We’ve been to her house several times and she has been to ours. We’ve met her husband, had cookouts, traded gifts and food, and tried to help each other out wherever possible. We’re all quite lucky for all of this really.
This Fall we had loads of fun with Halloween. We decorated the whole house and dressed up together for the first time. We went to Howl-O-Scream at King’s Dominion, Sleepy Hollow Hayride/Woods, and the Ashland Berry Farm for our annual scare-fest with our friends. We also caught Halloween on Hanover Avenue for the second time though this year my wife officially trick-or-treated for the first time. In November we had our first weekend away with just the two of us spending 3 days and 2 nights in the gorgeous Blue Ridge Mountains. We went to Natural Bridge and stayed at the historic Natural Bridge Hotel. We went to Lexington to have a nice walk and visited Al and Ernestine Hockaday’s separate boutiques. We saw VMI and left the next day to check in at the Peaks of Otter Lodge before heading down to Blacksburg. We walked around VA Tech for the first time and went to one of my favorite restaurants that I wish would open a location somewhere near Richmond. Peaks of Otter was a beautiful, wonderful stay. I’m sure we’ll probably repeat this weekend again over the winter of spring.
Thanksgiving was a special time because we had our friend Jessie and her children with us this year for what will be a series of endearing memories for years to come. They spent the night with us on Wednesday night, we had hotpot for dinner and watched Home Alone before going to bed and heading up to Ashland for Thanksgiving Day. We came back that night stuffed and tired but they stayed and visited for a while nonetheless. I watched The Nightmare Before Christmas with the kids while Jessie and my wife talked at the table for a while.
This December we went back to Christmas Town at Busch Gardens which was the first time with our family. I think everyone it enjoyed it and it was good to do something like that with my parents who don’t usually get out for things like that. We’re going back in another week with our friends in what I’m sure will be a really fun time. We’ve decorated our new Christmas tree and put up lights wherever we can fit them. We’ve watched Mickey’s Christmas Carol, Love Actually, and The Holiday and I’m sure we’ll get to our other favorite Christmas movies in due time before we leave for Key West with my parents later this month. Christmas and New Years in the Keys should be another great time and something to remember forever. I haven’t been to Key West in a long time and my wife and I can’t wait to go together.
There’s so many more good times and memories from this year but there’s no need to go into extreme detail. My cousin moved to Florida this year and my sister was diagnosed with, and later beat, lymphoma. I learned enough Mandarin language from my wife to say I’m officially starting to learn some Chinese. It’s mostly random things with about half the phonetic alphabet and numbers 1-10, but it’s a fun start.
We had a great year for music. De La Soul and A Tribe Called Quest release their first albums in many, many years. Blackalicious had a great release after a long hiatus. Atmosphere, Common, DJ Shadow, Wax Tailor, Norah Jones and had a good year bringing new music to our ears as well. Roots Manuva’s new album transcended the definition of art it was so creative.  I listened to a lot of Morcheeba, Ozomatli, A Tribe Called Quest, and Redman especially. I made a mix and had an obsession with the vocalists from Thievery Corporation as well as Nickodemus. I also went through a major Pork Records phase, both collecting old releases and listening to them each evening. I made a contact to someone representing the label on Discogs who ended up sending me a free Tetris album after a couple communications.
My wife took a picture with Santa for the second time and many other totally really awesome things happened. My wife at Christmas time is one of my favorite things this year. We had some medical bills and all sort of things this year that enhance our ability to communicate and work as a team as well as loads of other small challenges that are good to conquer and from which to move on. Our friends have been blessed with expecting their first or second children this year and all of them are healthy and well.
Open your arms to life.
Ponder the clouds.
Feel the sea.
See the people.
Hear the notes.
Relish the food.
Smell the memories.
Find your place and balance
– and live.

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