Saturday, June 29, 2019

Bad Writing at it's Best, Because I Don't Believe in Giving Advice

Not everything is as organic as what we'd like.  We would love for words to flow like water, and money to come as easy as a breeze on a cool spring day. 

But rarely, if ever, does that ish happen.

The thought was this summer would bring the time I'd sorely been missing.  Money from the school would be able to finance some adventures, and all would be well.  (Rarely does that ish happen) 

I ended up being forced out of one school because of their finances, and then being fired from another school district, which felt more like a set up.  So now here I am down one job, dipping into savings, and forcing fingers to keyboards trying to find an explanation to life.  In therapeutic environments, this is called processing.

Not everything is as organic as what we'd like.

I remember posting a response in a forum.  The question was something to the effect of how do you find time to write with kids and a family.  Me being young (and quite stupid now looking back) replied something to the effect of 'you have to make time, you have to carve out your niche of moments when the kids are sleep and the hubby's at work'...something to that effect.  

Could I have been more naive?

I know now, that finding time to write is only part of the issue.  There's that feeling of having something to say, or having that inspiration, or being able to follow that plan.  And inspiration don't always work on your clock, and work on your schedule. 

So this is writing me, carving and forcing and looking thinking...this is some of the worst writing ever.  It's brooding and complaining and filled with run-on sentences, lacking feeling and emotion.  But I'm writing.

Not everything is as organic as what we'd like.

If you haven't noticed by now, much of this blog is filled with free-writing. It's sitting at my keyboard with the desire to write.  No plan, no outline, no real thought pattern, just my day, my feelings about it, and given the time to express it.  

The journey is not always therapeutic, but it can be honest. 

With a wife, two small children and two jobs to cover the bills, I'm lucky to just free-write.  How do I find the time?  There's at work off-time, or late nights (which I love--current time:1:39am), and sometimes great planning will allow for a few moments before that badge hits that time-clock.  So no it's not easy, but if you want something bad enough, you will sacrifice.  You carve, you force, you cry, and perseverate in traffic, with the window cracked, the piano playing softly on the radio, your cigarette burning slow as you dictate the paragraph about the lover scene into your phone with the hope you can find it, or even remember that it's there later.

You carve, you force, you sacrifice.

It is what it is writer.  It is what it is poet.  It is what it is editor.  We can not stop writing, we can not stop creating, it is ok to let that baby sleep, and your sig other rest, and do you.  Be you. Breathe you.  And write.  So I leave you with a knife, and tell you to carve.  I leave you with a machete and tell you to force.  I leave your soul an morals conflicted, and tell you to sacrifice.  

The one thing I will not tell you to do is stop.

Wednesday, June 5, 2019

We'll Call It Prose (update)

We keep minds blown with fresh poems protruding through the dome. Tryin' not to stress off forever homes, because mortgage became the factor rather than rent last year.

And it’s still a Dada’s world, two years in with new life climbing up that five month ladder. And am still mad like that hatter, but Sara’s in Wonderland in running shorts rather than Alice and that funky ass blue dress. While crazy I try not to be, while frequently taking breaths because none of the girls want me to yell.

The dream, is a work in progress as progressions on new books stands strong on the frontline. Any graphic artist wanna donate some talents to a struggling self publishing author who has little to no time? If not the plot will flow forth with fatherly sentiment, political mind frames and experiences of finding peace while helping mind fractured milieus.

Did you get all that?

Because my self esteem still sits on high without 420 additives adding confidence like sugar to sober brownies. Overstanding obstacles while completing goals, giving Gratitude to The Most High. Ain’t really religious but learning what it takes, to get by as time flashes by.

So am thankful for the time you took; while tossing in this hook, hoping you check out my other book, Chicken Soup and A Shot of Jack. It is actual and factual that I am thankful for just your eyes. You’ve stuck with me this long, I apologize for my absence, but living life is sometimes the only prize.

I am ‘bout 4 post behind so please keep ya peepers peeled, as in the heels of this will come another.

Am thankful again for you reading this,

Sincerely

Your Poetic Brother

Wednesday, February 20, 2019

Timelines & Poetry...Poetry & Timelines

So it's been a balanced start to the new year.  I could say a hellish one, but that would refuse to recognize  the good that's occurred--AND THERE HAS BEEN SOME GOOD!! 

So I think I'm going to do this post a little different, and kind of present a time-line of events if you will, because I think that will put things in a better perspective.  So here goes, and please forgive me as my memory is not what it should be, so somethings, may be off.

  • Jan 8, 2019 Fiance' Friend comes to town to help out for the week as new baby will be born 
  • Jan. 9, 2019 New Life happens and my baby-girl is thrust into world.  We all love Naomi!
  • Jan. 11, 2019 Fiance mother comes to town to help.  (Love GranMa, no issues so don't even think about stirring the pot--lol) 
    • *Note both my parents are deceased
  • Jan 12, 2019 Baby and Mom come home, Friend leaves, GranMa still there.  Big ole happy family!
  • Jan 18, 2019 GranMa leaves 
  • Jan 21th- Feb. 4th off from both jobs
    • Had a great time  with my family, realized just how much Moms do! Big Shout Out to Stay At Home Moms!!
    • Got reacquainted with my 1st born, now 1.75 years old!  She is either on and going, or off, down and sleep!
  •  Jan 30th Received call from Vice Principal; was told my contract for next year would not be renewed and that my position for next year would not be available.  Essentially told I would not have a job for next fall.
    • So this is a three-fold event:
      • 1. This is my second job, that I have at a school.  Of the jobs I have/had this is the lesser paying one
      • 2. I still have/will have checks coming in through July.  But I knew waiting all winter to try and get a job during spring and/or the summer is pretty iffy
      • 3. Didn't really enjoy the rest of the time off because now I'm stressing about needing to find additional employment for supplemental income
    • So I'm like damn how you get fired on like, paternity leave??  Can a black man get a break??  Could the timing be any worse.
  • Feb. 1st--Starts applying to jobs
  • Feb 2nd Back to work at the hospital (Schedule is Tu-Sat) easy shift, and easy way to ease back into things.
    • Also co-workers were super supportive and loving!! They showered little Naomi and family with gifts! Love my hospital co-workers!!
  • Feb 4th back at the school, also back grinding.  Continues grinding put in several applications for positions.  A brotha like me don't wait around.  Got two kids--'gotta keep the heat and lights on!'
    • Gets word from counselor, that someone emailed her, because she's my reference (Also a damn good counselor, also a damn good friend!!)
  •  Week of Feb. 4th just hella emotional.  Didn't want to be at the school, but I'm a man dammit, so we grind it out.
  • Feb 5th I received an email in regards to application--They want a phone interview, and I'm like hells yeah let's do it tomorrow!  
    • *But it's weird because it's not the same company who asked my co-worker/supervisor for a reference 
  • Feb 6th I get another email from a third company in regards to my resume, and they want to do a phone interview on the 7th.  So at this point I'm all in. 
    • My phone interview with the 1st company went well.  I had a second interview with another company set for the 7th.  Then I received a call from the company the counselor talked to and they said they wanted to interview me. 
  • By the end of the week I had face to face interviews scheduled for the 11th and the 14th.  (One on the 11th, with a different school district, two on the 14th with different non-profits)
  • Feb 11th interview with the school district went real well.  I felt there was a connection, but wasn't sure.
  • Feb 12th GranPa comes (still no issues, love GranPa, and still don't even think about stirring the pot--lol) 
    • He and fiance were able to get a lot done for our house, and it's always good to catch up with GranPa
  • Feb 14th Valentines Day--we just had a baby, and I was told I wouldn't have a 2nd job come the fall...ain't nobody thinkin' bout no romantic love--We Real Up In Here! (lol) 
    • Scheduled to be off from the school job, because had interviews set for am and pm
    • 1st interview went ok.  Didn't feel a real live connection, but went fairly well.
    • 2nd interview was interesting because it was for two positions.  One for an administrative role, the other for more of a role working directly with mental health people.  
      • Of course the 2nd role ended up being more of a fit.  Interview was good, somewhat hard to read, but I think we both got a good feel for how we could work stuff out
  • Feb 15th GranPa leaves
  • Feb 15th Cousins arrives
    • (mind you, still all her family)
    • Cousin is cool, they go out with Fiance and the kids.  My oldest shows who she is, but she's 1.75 years old...that's to be expected.  Plus she's cute as all get out.
  • Feb 16th we all head out to the kid restaurant that both Fiance and Cousin loved as kids, and of course we take our babies
    • Note: I'm tired after working two jobs and having interviews all week, but suck it up and go out that afternoon with everyone before work
    • We had a good time, but 1.75 got tired, and showed out a little bit.  Looking back, there was some really good communication between Fiance and I, and some recognition too.  So we made it through that Saturday.
  • Feb 17th No extended relatives, just the immediate fam.  No jobs to go to.  We rested well.
  • Feb19th  Got word from the other school district.  Got that job baby!! It's the one I really wanted of the three.  The schedule is right, the kind of work is right, and the money is right.

So I go through this whole time-line to show, there has to be some understanding.  There will be pitfalls, but there will also be joys.  Some things will be missed, others made.  There has to be balance. So in honor of time-lines and balance, I present to you some poetry (as if you wanted MORE to read) Enjoy this little piece, and enjoy perspective of balance.

There are some time-lines we find
to be extremely extraordinary.
Others be rough patches  of reality.
We recognize enjoyment while 
attempting to 
exit anger, block out negativity, & accept beauty.
All things do not occur at once,
meaning:
your car will not break down
at the immediate moment
your scratch-off wins you $800,000.
Nor will you find
complete happiness
at your highest climax,
with your 37th sexual encounter.
(However, that shit might be bomb,
  for about 73 minutes!)
Timelines follow universal order,
when disorder appears to 
dominate your being. 
Balance is a biah; but...
it, serves, purpose.
It. Serves. Purpose.
Try to remember that 
when your well paying position,
with that high profile, billion dollar company,
texts you a pink slip,
while taking your morning constitutional
the day after your two year old
has received their 
first set of stitches--
It's balance.
Timelines are tricky &
progressive.  Always remember,
you are not where you were;
and things will occur to 
propel you forward, or 
rewind.
Don't whine, remember 
winning must be unwound from 
barriers and obstacles and learning opportunities.
There is no progress without 
the struggle in regress;
you time is not
a, fixed line.  

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

Explore (poem)

Read me.
Like Southerners love sweet tea,
Like Africans love liberty,
Like Twitter loves tweets.

Read me.

Whether white snow
be thick on the ground
or citizens be blind
& justice can't be found.

Read me.

If need-be, be
blindfold; if my color
makes your judgement
cold--
For these words universal
to the blue circle,
we all live & share,
should not matter
the skin color or
length of hair;
just,

Read me.

And be easy
for eternity faces us all;
rich, poor,
plastic, fake,
Real as Fuck, or
plastered to the wall.
This may not be for some,
but stick wit' 'cha boy,
this ain't the only one,
so give it a try,
it ain't crack
no like
but you might just find something,
you like
so,

Read me.

Friday, January 18, 2019

Can Speak On (poetry)





We could speak on
saddle stitchin' 7-year-olds
holdin' down buckin' broncos
with a pair of fresh J's on the shelf
and a real nice pair of boots
protectin' 10 toes...







 
Or go space-age love story
with sweeping strokes
of star-dust, that
pales,
in comparison to your beautiful
soul; always get lost in your eyes.

(yeah right)


We could speak on
peace;
Being in the moment
and enjoying the eyes and outlines
of mother and newborn baby.
Or imagine a day when
perfection is at the intersection
of Eternal and Happy,
float-walking with loved ones;
on thick, water rushed sands
being sucked out between gripping toes
as the tide rolls out, and
baby teeth filled smiles
roll in

We could speak on
fear--
follies and floundering;
self-doubt while searching for
a Loch Ness monster, you know is real.
Be calm. Be still.
Listen to your best heart,
then follow.

Or we could
rally the rhythm
in your soul
dominating dance moves
barefoot under fresh dust clouds
creating energy
creating breath
creating feeling
creating joy
creating me
creating you
creating we

creating. 


Saturday, December 29, 2018

last for 18--spoken word

Greetings for the last time, for this year of '18.  It was a good one for me, hard, but good.  I know my family/friends have felt the grind, I know the city has felt the grind, and I know this nation has felt the grind.  So please enjoy this short one, as we put to bed one number, and wake another.  

May this end bring you peace, may the new beginning bring you renewed joy.  The typed version is just  below the video. 

Happy '19 ya'll happy 2-0-1-9!

poet402


Still there
still care, like carousels, we
ride in circles.
Don’t know if it’s the
“O” in the Word or
the “O” in the Love
we rotate on the rhythm
of past memories,
future maybe’s
consistently inconsistent
we sit silently--in comfort.
Uncomfortable in the present
so we pre-sent options
to our optics; retina scans
for social media, not
taking into account, our accounts
have been accessed for
other’s bank statements
Can’t count on the Fed
so we scale up with
fam and friends, at ends to
get ends, stay happy and
wave a limb when we can,
because some so-called triple-amputee
raisin’ Go-Fund-Me monies
for massive wall uprisin’--
These dummies so funny;
never shocked or surprised
(always stay frank--)
when the villain runs away with all
their bank,
(what do you think they’ll say?)
Stay Safe
Stay Relentless
Stay Real (as fuck) as
teen years end
on this new millennium
and the heels of hate
keep clickin’ and calendar
pages turnin’ from
18 to 19 to 20--
Maybe at or before 21, we can relieve
ourselves of the need for
guns and control elections
which were stolen by strong-hold dictators
east of us.  Unable to be seen
from Alaska’s back yard--
I think y'all get my meaning,
keep dreaming as we put
Kris Kringle to sleep,
and pull the covers up over

good ole ‘18

Monday, December 17, 2018

(Mirror Reflection) ?Workers Health Mental for Matters Health Mental Does

It is the ending of snacks, signaling the final call on the night. The fresh step of staff’s new bounce; a finale in the making. Far enough into the night, far enough into the work, for enough time passed where thin pinned patience somehow gets fatter, gets thicker, re-grows like skin cells to reach that final hour.


When the stale and musk air somehow clears just enough to breathe again, heavy fog seemingly whisks away allowing dry eyes to moisten and see gleaming, sparkling light.  Although it is dark, a day worked, is not a day wasted, and when in service to others, there is purpose. Purpose other than bottom lines of a financial sheet.
To care is the purpose, unlike any other.


Care not like cashiers keeping crush-happy canned goods from vulnerable bread loaves.  Care not like the malevolent manager fretting over late, overworked, work staff. Care not like callus teachers of their intolerable students or “the oldest professionals” of their johns, or filth collectors of full, plastic, cracked trash bins on Tuesday and/or Thursday.  
Care.


Care for unbalanced individuals; unable to function in free, yet judgemental and four cornered society.  There is no talking to yourself in the mirror, free and clear on the outs. The box will come, red and blue lights will come, handcuffs will come, the struggle, the violence, the lock, key, can’t go, have to stay, will come.  
The paranoia is real. The delusions are real.


The six small fairies standing on the edge of the doorway refusing to let them in, is real.
So the care, has to be real.


Work laughter comes at a price.  Equal to, or greater than the delusion, triggering complex and intricate paranoia, a simple giggle is like lighting the fuse for Macy’s 4th of July fireworks.
So the care has to work.

It’s the gathering; the glorious granting of group involvement which at times, is despised the most. It is inconsequential information to some who may be incompetent, but run like shoes in a Nike factory in Malaysia--consistently.  It is checking in, cornering emotional well-being, hoping and searching for some semblance of balance.


We’re tracking, and we’re tracking, and we’re tracking
Did she just dig up her nose and rub it on that other patient?...damn.
There has to be responsibility and consistency


It is the voices, and vices, the asking for medications, for Maalox, or antidepressant, or anti-psychotics. It is asking for headphones, when headphones aren’t allowed at this time, or side conversations which involve the freezing of eggs, or the loud scream of “vaginal itch” that happens right as the group gets quiet.  It is anything to avoid the prescribed activity.
Checking in is a responsibility


Suppose to help, suppose to educate, suppose to help self regulate, but the most common response is: groups are redundant.  They don’t help, I’ve heard all that stuff before, I’ve been here 7 months, none of this is helping.  What would be helpful is one on one therapy, not all the group stuff.  Even though most have not given an honest effort to trying any of the suggestions, therapies, or coping skills, that are provided during group.
Emotional well being is a responsibility


But still we hold groups, and give the information.  Sometime for the pacing man wearing headphones who needs a break in the music, to put a break to his voices.  And other times for the new patient, first time admitted, looking scared and confused.
Safety and comfort are also responsibilities.



It’s the mid-point for break, but more like the quarter point, but break happens anyway. Where a precious 15 minutes is all that’s provided, for providers to paranoid, delusional...darlings?--yeah, that’s it, darlings.  It’s the time designed to resuscitate and renovate minds’ state to stay sane...but still deal with the unstable. And we have 15 minutes to do this.


So who should be where?--ok admin, ok



It is the list for dinner, the lining up of the impatient patients, the walking outside receiving refreshing, and sometimes brisk air--depending on the season.  It’s knowing your patients are (for the most part) pretty stable; there may be some pacing, or nonsensical talk (yes nonsensical is a word and a thing), or impatience.  But seldom is there drooling, or yelling, or refusing to do what is expected/told.


It’s welfare; the health and happiness of a group. Basic needs are not always basic.  


Back on unit some may refuse the need of nutrition.  May complain and curse limited choices which may lead to confrontation. Other issues arise when patient fingers want to slide-down-throat, dislodging nutrients from inside out.  And there are those who take two bites of finger food, scrunch face in disgust, then toss it out. With a 90 pound frame, the shame comes in the psychosis of what beauty and health appear to be.


It’s welfare, sometimes providing the basic needs is not always basic.



The beginning is never boring, the unknown usually isn’t.  Many times it’s busy, bustling, and bouncing with movement erratic.  Voices ranging from whispers to crashing conversations & the occasional yell, outburst, or naked bottom urinating on the half-assed cleaned linoleum.  
It’s a psych unit, some of this is to be expected.


Clocking in, the smell is usually immediate, diaphoretic, evil and feculent.  The thought of I signed up for this, and these are patients who are sick run through cerebral cortex.  Pleasantries are exchanged in hurried manner; from “happy about to get off” coworker, to “burnt out in disbelief they’re still coming in” co-worker.  But there are smiles nonetheless.
It’s a psych unit, some of this is to be expected.


There is report, or fill-in, or daily meeting where all the juicy details are described from the shift and/or shit-shift before. Intimate particulars are described, funny stories are shared, and some plans are hashed out. There remains a consistent ‘blind eye’ to the time that patients have spent ‘locked-down’ on the unit--sometimes it is the only way to get through the morning.
It’s a psych unit, some of this is to be expected.


It’s close to mid-morning and you awake, invigorated, the air is fresh, your mind clear; you are solid with life right now.  You’re up for your coffee, or shower, or first run, or cigarette, or first kiss to the love of your life. You’re so happy to be alive.  Your thoughts are yours, there is only you.


This is early morning hypnotist brokering good will to your psyche and spirit. Complete that goal today, the reflection you see is the best reflection.  Today is your day; you rise, you assist, you succeed.


It’s like Obama was your alarm clock while Oprah threw back the covers yelling “you get today, and you get today, and you get today, everybody gets today!!!”


Today you got this, confidence rides in the sole of your shoe boosting your steps with bounce and vigor.  Face the world with the fact that you can care for others because, I can take care of me.


I can take care of me.
I can take care of me
I can take care of me.