What I think about

Peripheral

I created this prison
With concrete grudges
and guards that don’t sleep
Confined behind bars
that only exist in my mind

I’ve taken cases for crimes I didn’t commit
And, nowadays, I don’t commit at all
I’d rather be safe than in love again
Put my faith in drugs again, knowing
It solves and creates problems
Just like this bottle
Sipping loopholes like hot coffee

I’m doing the best I can
But these cans are stacking up
Like Egyptian pyramids, making everyone wonder
How the fuck they even got there

What I think about

A/C Units in Hell

Humans only learn lessons through pain
Proven, again and again
Light bulbs go off in the darkest moments
And, right now,
We live in rooms lit dimly enough
To barely make out faces we don’t wanna see

Hell used to be hot
Until re-discoverers and governments
Shoved shit-loads of A/C units down here
Pacified in a prison of programming
Regularly scheduled lies told good enough
to sleep at night

6-8 hours of freedoms we hardly recall
Sometimes I wanna stay sleep
But my body won’t let me
This box beats without me
Hips hop to work and fingers type away
As my mind thinks of ways to cope
In this cool place called hell

Poetry

Granny

I grew up under a tree of knowledge
Who spoke both mother and father to me
When things got hard for me,
She was like God to me

So much so,
That I believed God was a female
And that man was made in Her image
Physical clues
Left in the nipples I don’t use
Understand,
I view my Granny spiritually

We connect digitally
She sends texts back and checks social sites
That would, kind of, make her my InstaGranny, right?
Right!
It’s who she chose to be –
The 65 year old
Scrolling through posts is how it’s supposed to be
Maybe, 65 just doesn’t seem old to me

She wears her age well
Walks with it
Cusses while she talks with it
I was raised in her home so she’ll die in mine
Forget nursing home visits

See, love limits don’t exist when it comes to family
I wrote my first poem when I was 6
Now I’m 26
And continue to write poems for my Granny

Short Stories

A Different Toon

I used to daydream about what life would be like inside of a cartoon but I never thought I’d actually become a character. I had been working with the Shadow Agency for about 11 years and they never ceased to amaze me with the missions they would have me carry out; this being no different. Freeman, the director of the Shadow Agency, called me into an office of about 12 people who looked like kids but had the demeanor of militants. They all stood up and saluted as I walked in and didn’t sit down until I did.

“What’s with the children?” I asked as I sat next to a serious seven year old.

“These are your allies, Kevin.” Freeman said as he made his way to the front of the projector. “We need you to bring down a familiar being, shall we say.”

Freeman pressed a button on the wall that lowered the projector screen and what was playing had me both confused and giddy.

“Eh, what’s up Doc?” A familiar phrase blurted from the screen as Freeman paused the video on a four- foot tall, gray-haired rabbit. I couldn’t help but smile at the five-second clip, an opposite reaction to my teenage allies who simply stared at Freeman, waiting on the next bit of information.

“Freeman, I don’t-“

“I’m going to explain.” He interrupted. Jack “Bugs Bunny” Rabbit and every character transmitted through the cartoon platform are all products of a terroristic influence. Bright colors and animated entertainment keep the youth hypnotized while messages of war and racism subtlety creep into their subconscious minds.”

I stared at Freeman for a moment, trying to grasp what he had just said. “So, you basically want me to catch a cartoon?”

“Not just catch.”

“Kill?”

“Precisely.”

Three hours later, the allies and I were strapped in the Cosmic Portal where we would soon be transferred to Bugs’ location. “Remember, the place you will arrive in is nothing like this world.” Freeman said before initiating the transfer sequence. “The only way you will be able to complete this mission is by using your brain and your allies.”

Before I could allow his words to sink in, my chair began vibrating furiously, matter started to deconstruct right in front of my face, and huge flashes of white light temporarily blinded me. A few seconds later, vibrant colors and a flood of sounds slowly crept back in as if I was experiencing a crescendo of reality or seeing and hearing for the first time. As the world came into focus I noticed the allies around me, waiting for me to adjust to the new world. The one I sat next to in the briefing room pushed a button on his watch and spoke into the receiver.

“He’s here.” The kid said.

“Ask Freeman if he has any Intel on Bugs’ last location before we make any moves.” I said.

The seven year old just looked at me blankly and pointed behind me. Before I could turn around, the crunching sound and oblong shadow had tipped off who it was. A furry finger tapped me on the shoulder and took one last bite with a fierce crunch.

“Eh, what’s up Doc?”

Short Stories

Infamous

Mic

Terri woke up with sore ribs, blurry vision, and Channel 11 news blaring from the television. “Unfortunately, police are still searching for the bomb in response to a threat received earlier today.”. Jeremy saw a woman smoking a cigarette on the couch, staring intensely at the TV. There was only one lamp on in the small motel room so he could only see her slim figure and that she was twirling a knife between her fingers. For a moment, Terri thought about lunging at the woman but not with the rope tightly binding his hands together.

“Why am I here?” He asked.

The woman turned to look at him but said nothing and turned her attention back towards the TV.  He immediately noticed her sex appeal even in a threatening situation. Nature had a way of making the most beautiful things in the world be the most deadly and she was no different. Her smooth, brown skin and soft curves disguised the ruthless demeanor she carried. Between the urgency in the reporter’s voice and the silence of this woman, Terri was beginning to panic.

The woman dialed a number and said a few words in a language that Terri couldn’t recognize. The woman got up and headed to the back room while mumbling some things to herself. Terri waited nervously as heard sounds of bags unzipping and metal pieces clanking together. The woman returned with a tripod, camera, laptop and a loaded gun.

“What do you want from me?”

“Only the truth.” She responded as she positioned the camera in front of Terri. A bright light shone from the lens as she powered the camera on and began typing on the laptop. Terri was confused at this point and had no idea what his fate would be. The woman turned the laptop towards Terri so that he could begin to see what this ordeal was all about. The images on the laptop left him speechless as he saw his daughter at school playing with the other kids.

“What the fu-”

“The bomb is here.” She said, pointing towards the closet in the corner of the classroom. “There are 47 innocent children at this school, including your daughter, and their lives are subject to your honesty. See, Mr. Tate, no one is excluded from the karmic debt they acquire. I’ve watched you lie to your wife, friends and family yet play this virtuous role that is only a surface reality. Today, the truth shall set you free. Or we’ll both watch your daughter’s body separate into little chunks.”

Terri looked at the woman with a blank stare, realizing what this was all about. He watched as the woman turned the TV up to hear the reporter give more dramatic news. “This just in! We have a live feed from the suspect.” Terri watched in horror as his face appeared on the television for millions to see.

“Question 1.” The woman said.

What I think about

Daddy’s Little Girl

Cute

The phrase “daddy’s little girl” didn’t register internally until I was 5 feet away from my ex-girlfriend’s vagina, staring at hair that wasn’t hers. I was inside of a hospital room sitting down, listening to sounds of support from a few family and friends as my daughter nearly gave me a panic attack from not coming into the world on time.

Although it sounded like the doctor was saying “cornea”, the correct medical term was Meconium, which basically meant that my greedy ass offspring was eating the fluid and feces that would normally be stored in her intestines. The doctor made a decision to kick everyone out and proceed with a C-section in order to safely bring my child into this world. There could only be one person in the surgery room; it was either going to be me or her mom.

After a few seconds of staring at each other, the look on my face clearly saying, “Bitch you better not deny me the privilege of seeing my daughter’s birth,” the doctor promptly escorted Ms. Holmes to the waiting area.

No more than 3 minutes later, I was dressed in all blue scrubs with a light blue shower cap looking like I could’ve starred in the next episode of HOUSE. My mom snapped a quick picture of my sister and a nervous version of myself before I went to perform surgery.

Birth

The operating table was divided so that I was unable to see what was going on below her shoulders. Now, of course I was way too curious, so I snapped a few pictures of the gory procedure.

“Are you ok?” I asked her.

She just stared at me, clearly showing she had never been this high before. She slurred her words and mumbled something that I couldn’t understand but I nodded in agreement, doing my best to be calm and supportive. At one point, I thought about pulling up YouTube to play Salt-N-Peppa’s “Push It” but decided against it considering she couldn’t really feel anything and there was no need to push.

At this point, the doctors were extracting my daughter and asked if I wanted to see. Abso-fucking-lutely, I thought. This was that beautiful moment that everyone talked about; the moment that alters a man’s DNA and causes him to fully understand the word ‘beautiful’ on a deeper level.

That shit was a lie. It wasn’t beautiful at all. My daughter looked like some shit off a Sci-Fi movie and I instantly became confused and nauseous. For some reason, I imagined my daughter birth to be seven pounds, fourteen ounces of pure gold floating out of her mom’s stomach, possibly winking at me as if to say, “Hey Dad.” Unfortunately, that was not the case. It seemed like I witnessed a murder with my daughter covered in blood, still attached to her mom’s stomach.

“Would you like to cut the umbilical cord, Dad?” The doctor asked.

I couldn’t respond verbally. The only thing I was able to do was nod my head and grab the shears, hoping that it would be over soon. After separating the two of the them, I was directed towards the waiting area so they could both be cleaned. My family greeted me as if I had just ran through the ribbon at the marathon finish line and, although I was smiling, still a bit traumatized by what I saw.

Twenty minutes later, I saw my daughter in the incubator, this time looking like an actual human being. Lil Ky

When we made eye contact for the first time, I understood that beautiful moment everyone spoke of. For those few seconds we were staring at each other, everything paused, everyone disappeared and I was in awe at the capability I had to create another person. I wondered what she was thinking and what world she was transported from. Surges of happiness spiked through my body as I thought of all of the moments we would share: her first words, her first steps, questions about sex and boys. Then I thought about the inevitable unhappiness she would have to experience: her first heartbreak, losing her virginity and understanding death. At that moment, I immediately felt an emotional charge go off inside of my body that seemed to rearrange my cells. It made me protective and caring in a way that I had never been before.

That moment was truly life changing. I stayed at the hospital for the next few days learning how to feed and swaddle my little girl and making sure her mom was safe. That was four years ago and I remember it like was yesterday. December 25, 2010 was the day I met the love of my life. Kyren Ann Marie Robinson.

Ky

What I think about

Love & Other Bullshit Words

I find it funny how nobody ever dives deep into the thoughts of guys who get treated like most women do nowadays. It’d be silly to say that only the women get fucked over to the point of emotional distress, but that’s what I would call a surface reality. I’m only speaking on behalf of the black community because, well, I’m black and certain emotions are frowned upon.

My first “real” girlfriend was in middle school and nobody could tell me I wasn’t in love because I really was. Well, as much in love as a naïve 12 year old could be. I grew up under my Granny who was both a loving and hard woman, just like any other old school parent. My dad sacrificed 10 years worth of freedom for a couple dollars not long after I was born and my mom was in the streets finding her way as a result of it, so to have this other 12 year old girl give me emotions I’ve never felt before, it was mind blowing. I felt like I had something that was actually happy to have me. Although I talked proper and wore my shirts tucked in, I was really good at basketball and told funny enough jokes to fit in with just about everyone, especially the ‘cool’ people, so I hardly had any problems being accepted.

The temporary love of my life grew up in a neighborhood three minutes away from our middle school in what was called, “the Wood” (short for Studewood) and she was recognized as a part of a popular click that could dance and talk shit extremely well, which was important back then. Hell, they were basically the TLC of Hamilton Middle School.

But I knew better. We spent nights on the phone talking about everything, not just dancing and shit talking but about shit that made me realize that she was very similar to me. From about 6:00 pm to 7:00 pm (which was all the phone time I was able to have at the time), we talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up, what life meant, how dumb parents can be, and most of all, the feelings we had for each other.

The one thing about middle school though is the peer pressure. That shit will get the best of you. I remember going to a talent show they had at the local high school right up the street. I planned on surprising her because usually my granny wouldn’t let me go out on the weekends to play with my “hoodlum friends” but that particular weekend she decided to let me go. Of course, the church-going snitch had to chaperone us but I was just happy to be out of the house on a Friday night. I showered, loaded my hair with wave grease and starched my South Pole jeans and shirt, which was pointless because my Granny made me tuck it in. But best believe I took it out once I got in the car.

Everything was lit up at Booker T. Washington High School. Kids were outside cursing and kissing, some of them smoking and drinking in the parking lot waiting on the line to move. My granny gave me five dollars to get in which was just enough to not be able to eat or drink during the step show. Snacks were the least thing on my mind that night, I was fascinated by all that was going on and excited to see the BTW Gents- the most popular step team in all of H.I.S.D.

I gave the lady my five dollars grinning from ear to ear and headed inside to all of the commotion in the foyer. I immediately spotted her two friends which meant that she wasn’t too far behind. I walked up to them to see where my girlfriend was and, although I knew they would be surprised to see me out on the weekend, the look on their faces showed something a bit deeper than that.

“Hey y’all, where’s D at?” I said calmly.

Neither of them said a word, instead, they pointed towards the vending machine right on the side of the auditorium. Excited, I skipped my happy ass over towards the double doors, anxious to surprise my baby when suddenly my feet stopped moving.

My brain couldn’t process what I saw fast enough and I found myself having to think to breathe. My girlfriend of a month and a half was holding hands, kissing some light-skinned nigga with cornrows. The campus police officer came around the corner and flashed the light on the crowd of horny teens which sent them running directly towards me. The worst part is that I stood there frozen as she looked at me, noticing her giggle at something he said and walk right past me as if I didn’t exist. They made their way to the auditorium to watch the step show as I stood in the same spot for about a half an hour trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

By the time I made it back to my Granny’s house, I had realized what love actually was. When you’re a naïve 12 year old, love is a phrase some people say to feel like grownups. Not knowing that even grownups don’t have a clue to what that shit really is. But then again, that’s a whole different blog for different day.

Poetry

It’s Way Bigger

In the midst of Seagram’s Seven
And sierra mist
Twisting illegal cigarettes,
All I can think about is how I feel
Hoping this dope
Provides enough dopamine
To motivate hope And bring dreams to reality

Or should I stay in a dream state?

Live inside eye-magination like
Imagine a place with no race
Seeing beautiful faces with appetites for
Love – Up above

In skies where time lies dormant
A place where, nobody’s conforming
To rigid lies that get pawned off as normal

What does my heaven look like?

Like midnight on New Years
Like new growth on old fears
I wanna be rooted again,
I don’t wanna leave,
I’d rather branch out
Far enough to touch those who
Think about leaving as bad as I do

Nobody wants love as bad as I do
I wanna meet my dream girl
Who sings like that “Sweetest Thing” girl
Mean,
Little body
Similar to Badu,
Oh soulful

With skin that glows emotions
Slow motion is everything when I’m around you
The inside of my chest is a snow globe
You low key.. shake up my intimate

See I fall in love with these images
Figure if I write enough sentences,
The universe will bring you to me
In the image of these verses

I wanna be in love again
Not outside it
Divided
Left in a cold room, quiet
Crying silent
Pushing limits on this highness, like
I’m dying to meet my Highness

Literally,

Every little piece of me is symmetry,
To something that seems to be

A whole lot bigger than me

Short Stories

“That Moment” (Short Story)

That Moment

Jamie was looking for a lighter as Ryan began rambling about her once again. Judging from the glossy look in his eye and the slow drag he had in his voice, he was clearly high already.  As soon as he started to get a little buzzed, he would tend to get in his feelings about Leslie Peters. She had only been working with us for about 3 months and in that short amount of time Ryan had determined that he was damn near in love.

Ryan, being the shy type, would admire her from a distance, only expressing his feelings for her in daydreams or during breaks with Jamie. They would usually synchronize lunch breaks in order to meet at the car for a quick smoke session. They had been best friends since freshman year of college and became “420 friendly” around the same time.

Jamie turned the music down and took a long, deep hit before speaking. He turned to look at Ryan and said, “Do you know what the definition of insanity is bro?”

Ryan stared, half-way confused and replied, “It’s when you’ve gone crazy, and if you’re trying to say that I’m crazy for how I feel about her…“

Jamie sighed and took another couple of puffs while Ryan trailed off into some more emotional bullshit.

“…and all I really need is the perfect opportunity to say something. You feel me bro?”

“Yeah nigga whatever”, he said while passing the blunt back, “But listen, they say you’re considered insane when you repeat the same action and expect a different result.”

Ryan was silent, and then took a hit as if to allow what he was saying to sink in.

“Almost every time we smoke, one way or another, you end up talking about this girl and honestly bro, it’s starting to get on my nerves. If you like her, you can’t keep running your mouth about her to ME, you have to tell HER how you feel. And nigga don’t take this personal but you really being a lil’ bitch about the situation.

Jamie was the only person that could come at him like that. They had been patnas for so long that the trust was there and, on top of that, he was right. After an awkward 3 minutes of silence, Ryan calmly replied, “You right bro, I’m a get at her today.”

Now, of course, Jamie didn’t believe him but nodded in agreement anyway, not wanting to break his best friends’ spirits. “C’mon bro, we gotta get back.”

*

The brief ride on the elevator gave Ryan just enough time to over-think the situation at hand. Once again, he had committed to finally approaching her but this time he promised Jamie and, more importantly, himself that he would make his intentions known. The nerves were starting to creep in with each beep on the way up to the 8th floor, sweat began building around the top of his forehead, and even the voice inside of his head was stuttering while trying to rehearse what he had been practicing for the last 3 weeks.

Leslie normally got off early on Fridays so he knew he had about 30 minutes to make his move before she’d leave. Confident in the introduction he’d been practicing, all he needed was something to drink to battle the cottonmouth from smoking. Between the nerves and the Kush, Ryan was barely able to talk to himself his mouth was so dry. Should I go for the Sunkist orange or the Welch’s grape, he thought staring at the vending machine. It’s funny how hard it is to make decisions when you’re stoned.

Just as he was about to push the button for a Sprite, he heard a voice that made his heart flutter and then momentarily stop beating.

“Hey, Ryan how’s it going,” she spoke in a perky tone.

He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Her voice was as sweet as Skittles but stern enough to be Sour Patches. You would’ve thought it was raining inside the office’s break room the way the sweat instantly started running down his face. The rehearsed lines, the pep talk from Jamie and his confident demeanor had now all went to shit. But it was now or never.

Ryan licked his dry ass lips, took a deep breath and responded, “Hey Le-Leslie, what up-I mean, how are you?”

Leslie giggled to herself. “I’m ok, just ready to get the hell off. Today’s been crazy.” she said as she fixed a cup of coffee.

They were the only ones in the break room, an ideal situation for Ryan to make his move but he couldn’t think of the right thing to say. It’s like the introduction he came up with in the elevator proved to be disloyal and disappeared from his mind at the worst possible time. Nigga just say something, anything!

“Hey Leslie, I…umm…wanted to ask you something,” he managed to mumble.

“Yes, Ryan,” she answered, giggling.

     Damn she looks so good, he thought to himself. Ryan rarely ever made direct eye contact for this very reason. The mini-me behind his zipper was beginning to make an appearance revealing his attraction to her. He pleaded with himself to focus on anything besides THAT: Jesus, Granny, dead kitties, starving children in Africa, anything to decrease the tension below.

Noticing more co-workers coming down the hall ramped up his nervousness again, providing a small window of opportunity to look her dead in her eyes and finally explain his true feelings.

“Ryan?” She reiterated, getting a bit impatient at the awkward silence.

Ryan took a deep breath and started, “Leslie, I just wanted to tell you-”

     Riiiinnnnnnggggg. Leslie reached in her pocket and, without even looking at the screen, silenced it.

“You were saying?” she said, with a smile that released every butterfly that could have ever been hiding in his stomach.

Now or never he thought again. “Leslie, when you first started working here I thought you were-“

“Leslie! I’ve been calling you girl”, her boss blurted, coming up from behind him. “You were supposed to drop off that report before you left.”

Leslie shook her head quickly, realizing it slipped her mind. I’m so sorry, I totally forgot about that! Here, come with me and I’ll get it for you,” she said, heading back to her desk. “Catch up with you later Ryan?”

“Sure”

*

Jamie was doing his best to keep from laughing but between the left over high and Ryan’s sweat drenched dress shirt it was impossible. “Until you talk to her, yo’ new name is gon’ be Houdini mouth cause all them fucking words you rehearsed just disappeared” he said while laughing. “Houdini mouth”, he mumbled to himself, still laughing”

“Can you shut the fuck up?!” Ryan demanded as they both made their way to the elevator.

“Nigga, you shut the fuck up! Jamie snapped back, still giggling. “Shit, obviously that’s something you good at.”

Jamie was doing his best to contain his laughter in the elevator with other coworkers on board and all Ryan wanted to do at that point was to get to the other half of the blunt they had earlier. He was getting impatient with the elevator stopping on nearly every floor when the sound of Skittles and Sour Patches echoed beyond the elevator.

     No fucking way, he thought.

Sure enough, Leslie had somehow made it back into his presence. Ryan knew this had to be some sort of sign from God as he stood amazed at the Angel directly in front of him. Leslie gave him a quick smile, seeming surprised also, and then stepped inside of the packed elevator. Ryan immediately began losing the battle of laughter, nearly in tears in the corner of the elevator. “C’mon Houdini,” Jamie managed to whisper between snorts and tears, “It’s show time.”

Ryan didn’t acknowledge him but knew he was right. His body instantly felt light, full of adrenaline, and once again sweaty. He had to make a decision now or forever be considered a pussy. Without allowing his mind to convince his hands otherwise,  he jammed the emergency stop button and the elevator violently stopped between the 1st and 2nd floor. Leslie jerked back, landing right into Ryan’s arms and before she could respond to what was going on……

Poetry

Separation

This floor feels harder than the inevitable decision I’ll have to make

Sleepless nights reflect more mind & less body
Physically, my body aches of uncomforted energy

Same thing mentally

The regret sets like the sunrise
Each morning contemplating would-be kisses of a normal routine
Doing my best to distinguish between good or bad habits

Too soon to tell I guess
Living in the space between heaven & hell,

I confess that
The emotional part of me is always biased to what ought to be
Wondering if your mind is busy with thoughts of me?

See I busy myself with everything But you:
Drinking
Smoking
And idle events that distract the strongest desires to touch you

I Fucking HATE
That I Loved You

I gave away the deepest parts of me

And although I try not to be bitter
I can’t help it

Sad to say that I have no interest
In being interested in anybody else
The way I was with you

You’ve made me so selfish
To not want to share the little bit of real love I have left because

NOBODY DESERVES IT

Most women tentatively flirt with ideas of having somebody perfect
In human terms

Me having flaws that would’ve disappeared with time and hard work
Instead,
The more time we spent, the harder the hurt
The harder it became to work through workable issues

Shirts I slept in became tissues
Refusing to miss you
Refusing to kiss you
Refusing to make lists of why I should stay with you

It’s funny how the “I Miss You’s”

Can quickly turn into the misused.