Being In My Given Box: The Conflict of Art and Activism (#ThirtyThirty)

  Sometimes, I want to be on the frontline.  I watch my friends, advocates of a rainbow of beliefs, as they take full action into their chosen battles. From sexism to institutional racism, sometimes it feels like I'm surrounded by super heroes.  I get to be a part of really cool workshops or hear about things like "Social Justice Camp" all year and, as excited as it makes me, when it's time to self-reflect it makes me feel like triangle player in a full symphony.

  Every now-and-then, I doubt my impact and begin to feel like at isn't enough. For the last three years, I completely abandoned my take at your local open mic, home studio, and/or blog to try my hand at social justice. I had done my share of mentoring programs, but it seemed like nothing compared to what I was surrounded by. Long story short, I've created a collective of thoughts and notes to release some of the emotions that came from these experiences. This being one of them... I feel like I'm gonna have to wrap up the thirty thirty thing soon. We'll see what that turns into.

Enjoy!


Your sons will learn to suffocate their first day at school/

They will come home bleeding insecurities and impurities/

Their backs may be thrown out, knotted up, and hanging onto loose leaf assignments until the sun rises 

They will breathe again/

When the sun rises/

There be laughter and ruckus again/

When the son rises/

But when son rises

The township will be back for him/

In the mourning/

Fret not/

They may be home sooner than expected/

Today's curriculum is about standards/

For them twice as many/

White boys don't have learning disabilities/

They're just not paying attention/

Your boys don't pay attention/ because you're broke, they starvin',

and they can't make it halfway pass a C, before they're being tip toed across the board/

This time, next year

Your boys, their policies

His word, her title

Times up, don't pass

Hands up, don't talk

Hands up, expel

Hands up, don't flinch

Or I will send you black ass home early/

Your boys/

Will come together with other "your boys"/

At the double knotted conclusion

That they are being trained

By the enemy/

In fascist fashion, which lacks compassion/

These boys/

Will distort their face lines

And contort their waistlines/

Blowing hand signals and makeshift bugles/

In the name of /

regional patriotism 

During lunchtime/

In the name of/

Misguided guidance

Via white compliance/

In the name of/

Bus lines 38 & 39/

That will sneak them pass master Morgan's tower/

Back to their rightful IPS districts

In the name of the drop-out rate/

Imagine the look on Mapleton-Fall Creek's face/

When Gambold bought out what we thought we could call our space/

The memories/

Collected in the corners of the bathrooms/

Fights had, but not resolved/

Assignments started, but not finished/

Rumors carried, never to be cleared out at milestone reunions/

What do I look like/

Renting out Arsenal Tech's gymnasium/

To reminisce on Short Ridge's cafeteria?/

How can any BOOST conference be productive/

When privatization is being disruptive?/

I don't think they want to graduate this year/

They might not walk/

There are so many corporate agendas/

And Board of Education overseers/ who look so far off into the distance,

They're oversight soars right over the people we have schools for, in the first place/

Things like investments towards better test results/

When preparation for the test insults their opportunities to expand in adulthood/

Let's all be militants, nurses, and social workers/

Honestly/

I don't think I want to graduate/

I might not even walk/

Would it be so bad, if I just can home early?/

A Couple Hundred For a Cripled Heart (Dirty Thirty)

  Hey guys.  If you've ever seen or heard advice that goes along the lines of, "Be good to yourself", or "Love has to come from you", who ever told you that may or may not know how much gold they've given you.  This piece is reflective of that process for me. From creating my routine workout/breakfast, to walking from 33rd & MLK to the Starbucks on Kessler & Michigan, talking to myself about myself. Self love is such an ultimate key to maintaining your life.

  Don't think so hard about it, right now. Just read this piece, and try to figure out how to get here for yourself.  Enjoy!

3/30:

You're not as heavy as I remember/

Your legs were just limp with history/

Have you ever walked for so long, you started collecting memories from the side of the road?/

Have you ever went nowhere so fast, the door was locked/

And you ended up trekking back home, with a heavy head, healed heart, and a talkative spirit?/

You would kick, when I got distracted/

I tried crossing the street enough/

You would put you weight down in the middle of the first lane, to convince me to stay in mine/

You're not as heavy as I thought/

You arms just dangle inconveniently/

I wished you would latch on to my neck/

To be more comfortable/

Hindsight is everything, but cushioned/

It forces me to look forward and exercise my posture/

Let's get used to standing strong in adversity/

Perhaps I should let go of things I keep in the back of my mind/

You aren't heavy at all/

Your core just deep/

Center just flexible/

You lean forward in faith, and I balance that faith on my gut/

Let's both believe/

Let's continue moving forward prove it's truth/

Let's no longer use second person pronouns to deny we are the same entity/

You could never be me/

I could never be you/

We are I/

And I/

Don't feel so heavy, anymore.

A Dirty Thirty, For The Lies I May Have Told Myself (30/30)

Another entry taken down earlier than published. No time to get into the inspirations. I hope the title of this article, and the piece itself, are explanatory enough.  

2/30:

If your heart is ever broken, write something beautiful/

everyday until it is over/

Write bright holes in your dark situation/

 until it feels like you are staring at the stars/

Exhale at every piece made, and give each one the breathe of life/

Pray to the sky, like it is made of ears and emotions/

 Like one of these nights, your glistening sky will breath back at you and tell you how your bright days are going to happen/

Pray until you see almanacs in your albums/

 Pray until that voice in the back of your mind no longer tells you that you should care/

 He doesn't care/

Neither does she/

Why do you?/

 Why aren't you writing?/

 How did you forget that friends are fickle, business interests are separate, and that your heart is best left alone?/

Your nights are dark because you gave your universe to someone who has yet to appreciate the backyard you've introduced them to/

And have yet to replenish your own set of stars in your sky/

Stop sitting up in the dark, if you're not going to be writing/

Stop facing the ugly, if you aren't going to create something beautiful/

Don't kill yourself, Theon/

You're killing yourself, like this/

You need love/

And the only love that works for real, is the love that has to come from you/

You don't have to go to sleep if you don't want to/

Sit up under the stars/

Make love to yourself/

Laugh at your own jokes/

And make fun of the people who aren't quick enough to catch the punchlines/

You need you, Theon/

I need you/

Don't ever/ 

Give up on me/

Mid-life Reflections & Literal Outburst (literally)

It's the 23rd of April, I know I know, shoot to kill me later.  There's been a lot going on outside, for there to not be going on inside. Perhaps because I stopped going inside, in the first place. Nevertheless, I am here for the first time this year to set things straight.


I'm not gonna hold anyone hostage with a massive post. Just gonna start slow, and drop off a few noted feelings and lies I might have told myself.  So, here it is. 1 of my 30/30 collection, short of two days. Enjoy:

1/30:

I want you to know that yes/

You are getting away with it/

I want you to know that/

The next couple of text messages you answer giggling

will smell like middle school mascots

And sound like backyard end zones/

You won't have to worry about speed/

You won't have to worry about shoving your palm, into my face on the way out to the driveway/

No ones gonna stop you/

All they will do is watch you/

Don't be coy

Don't be the idiot that spends weeks trying to master the arcade games on Shen Mu/

Brick on top of brick/

I should've never told you this morning/ what birds of a feather do

Now, my shit twitches on some of my flyer days/

But you won't have to worry/

This piece is our secret/

This piece is solely between me and the you you grabbed by the collar bone/ and woke into reality/

But I fell asleep with my arms wrapped around her/

This piece will never reach the light of day/

Trust/

It won't even take all morning for me to hide it/

Let alone finish/

This is a quick thought/

On the way to religious/

15 push-ups, with my hands in 'u' formation/

Crazy cause/

The harder it gets to push away,

The more rewarding it is to see what is beneath me/

'U'/

I realized you/

Aren't getting away/

Just watching me expand my vanish point, so you click your heels/

Not together/

But up and down/ to pretend that the rocks you are kicking are from the moon/

Well keep sliding baby/

In fact, could you move a little faster/ toward the east/

You are blocking the center of my universe/

It won't be dark here, for long/

And I don't need to be distracted by some bitch/

Whose shots are only called when she hits the switch/

If dig deep enough/

If I look hard enough/

If I scream loud enough/

I will taste the brilliance boiling up from my gut/

There was never switch/

I am the light of my life/

I lied/

This is not about you/

It is about face, and March will be over soon/

You were right/

I do burn across the galaxy instead of lighting for myself, alone/

Bitch, I'm the Sun/

Real friends are like planets/

We're all dizzy from taking shots in the dark and carrying the weight on our shoulders/

But when one of us shines/

All of us become colorful/

We are a beautiful rainbow of confusion/ and all you will ever know is how lonely it is to glow/

White is a shade/

I'll allow you to parade/

Around the little backyard you call getting away