Friday, January 29, 2010

Ars Poetica

If you are a writer.. or even a reader.. one should explore the meaning and historical value of "ars poetica".. a phrase that translates to the art of poetry... yet means so much more. how our actions when expressed, should actually feel like the expression.. writing about the beauty of poetry, or signing melodies about the love of each tune and voice..

here are a few links...

and one of the most famous, and my favorite piece..

Ars Poetic
by : Archibald MacLeish ( read on who he is as well!)

A poem should be palpable and mute
As a globed fruit,
As old medallions to the thumb,
Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown --
A poem should be wordless
As the flight of birds.
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs,
Leaving, as the moon releases
Twig by twig the night-entangled trees,
Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,
Memory by memory the mind --
A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs.
A poem should be equal to
Not true.
For all the history of grief
An empty doorway and a maple leaf.
For love
The leaning grasses and two lights above the sea --
A poem should not mean
But be.

the last line be far is the most eloquent summary of what ars poetica is.. and should be.. a poem should not mean but simply be. the existence of its powers should magnify its greatness.. and one should honor it for being, instead of describing.. and that the description aligns with the reality.. like a literary comic book.. it is. real.

thanks. enjoy.

First Guest Showcase/Highlight.... Coreman2200

Blog: More than 2200 Questions
Guest Feature 1/29/10
Link to Post:

A magnificent piece of space and time. Occupying energy... Exploring and maneuvering through life’s assumptions and apprehensions. He is a master of thoughts. Invitation extended through mutual contact, we connected so eloquently. Raw to Raw, as real became jokes, mental stimulation, and laughs filled with interest for more. And until recently I lived on earth. But He has managed to take me to Jupiter. Expanding my perspective on how gamma rays, energy particles, and physics is a metaphor for life. I am still circling moons… you should travel with me…

Fearful Of Seeing Self In Judgment
..And so, again, it begins.

One can easily imagine that he who judges knows too well his own face in mirrors.
However, it seems quite the contrary - the judge appears to be more aware of
the mirror, and that surface's property than the validity and actuality of what it reflects
More inclined to disregard the depth of whom he opines
as though the face of his subject grow more tangible if so simplified and so flattened; heartless.
The mimetic lifeless visage merely a montage of faults, nicks and scars..
Not the truest grooves he inwardly sees in self, not the mountainous terrain he traverses within...
Nor the well of reflection that lies Behind his eyes.. Nor the fathomless pain beneath his skin.
The cold touch of the mirror's glass only affirms his stance, and in turn by happenstance
he who stares back to see no such humanity in the eyes that judge him
too only finds validity in his impression of soulless reflective glass..

...And so, again, it begins.

Indeed… make sure you read this over and over.. until the feeling, the emotion, the action itself sits in your soul.. That fear of seeing self …. Lies in the judgment we run from… and who are we... but a reflection of the evils we retreat, and pride in. who are we yet only the person who can change self. It is so easier to let others determine and alter yourself.. yet in the end.. the reflection lies.. with the face seeking the image.. self. Examine yourself, and ask yourself this... what is it that’s holding you back? Fear? Judgment? Or the mirror image?

Thursday, January 28, 2010

a glimpse into a teacher's diary...

A glimpse of a teacher’s diary... Struggling with finding peace in knowing my small efforts will one day make sense… laboring the mind seems so much more draining than manually having the body walk the actions. Caring hurts. Frustration does not exist without emotional concern.

Concepts, theories, pedagogy, training, lifestyle, changes, solutions, questions, discussions… all this and yet we circle ourselves to the same point of existence. Depending on each other for support, for encouragement, for information, for confirmation.

Yet I fail to see who advocates for those who seem weak??? When three stand out of 100, is the 3 who are great, or the 97 whom have failed us are to blame, or are weak for having accepted the malfunctions and complacency on all levels of life. Where do you point the finger... do you even point... or just do. robotic.

And when does doing become taking on a 5 headed monster that will never die, because he seems to have eternal incarnations… with difference faces, different titles, different opinions.
When does the scale actually work for its purpose of not just weighing bi polar systematic approaches and perspectives… but actually stop titling, stop leaning, and find balance between reason, and reality. Between goals and expectations. Between truth and robotic like symptoms that seemed to have programmed us that enough is okay now. Rather than reaching for more.

I don’t understand… she told me balance lies in those that keep you standing.. yet if we examine the structure of the finest buildings.. they lean and depend on what seems to be the most ironic of pillars, steal, metal plates… but what is it that holds them in place..

There are missing links.. and one day I just hope we can see the image we aim, not accept the one we have created. The beauty behind passion fruit and pineapple is they are guarded by hard, prickly, bumpy outsides… yet tender and sweet to the core. The illusion is created to mask their beauty… without the desire one would never have experience the joy of such flavor. When will our desire to have something that works… meet our action of actually trying… when will we actually taste the flavor and sweetness of personal knowledge that a system aims to assist in developing… yet that is actually only cutting our children blindfolded…

and if your lost in the imagery of my words.. I applaud you... Yet this educational system is not gem.. We must not be afraid to be the 3 out of 100... At any moment…

Tuesday, January 19, 2010



snippets #1-5
its funny how the color
changed with this weeks emotions
what a coincidence
(its funny) because
Maybe I should start using pencil

I wonder if all my windows are closed
To the sun shining
I cant see if I have pulled up the shades
Twisted the blinds
I don’t know if my room is ready for such light
For his light to shine.
His love

Attempts to capture the good in all people
I loose site of myself
Aiming to please those important
I loose focus on myself
Turn my dreams into theirs
I loose site of my life
No more
I have just bought glasses

When things get blurry
I have a habit of washing my face
Instead of douching my eyes
Opening my pores for no support
And cleansing myself of those who love me
All because a battle alone seems easier
so bright, so strong
so determined
too nice, too strange too foreign
what I need, may not want
but its working
hugs and kisses, gentle connections
I miss him
Its working

Monday, January 18, 2010

dream with me

This was created from a challenge posted by Black Positive Image. Please check out her blog! and also follow her on twitter: blackposimage. She is beautiful spirit and soul nestled in the mold of greatness! Love ya Sis.

Dream with me... My King Day Challenge...

With the sparkle in my eye, I gaze at the sun. Day-dreaming of a day when nightmares are figures of imagination instead of reality. For too much time has passed for us to not desire an understanding of each other. Beneath my blankets of hope. I envision a land without worry.

For let us appreciate the simple things in life. It seems that one must snatch life, for us to experience death. Over and over, our people are stripped, by those with the same faces. Strapped with nine’s whose aim is vengeance. Killing what could be history. We are set in the past of destruction. Black on black violence. Why does one have to struggle with loss, to be thankful for each gift? Life alone is perfect with each breath and day.

Too easy to pass judgment, when really you fear possibility. The chance that you too could be stuck, standing, staggering from corner to corner, searching for souls to sacrifices cents. It seems that Shelter must be removed, for we must walk in the shoes of the homeless, for us to be truly appreciative of our own living quarters. When will you face fear with dedication? Complacency has gotten us this far.

And with every ache and moan, we follow discourse as if it will lead to gold. Disconnecting each realm, holding our body captive as capsules, full of inhumane nutrients. We will never go hungry or broke so as long as dollar menus corrode veins, providing salaries for surgeons and plastic infused reductions. Self control and self love must begin today. For our belly will not moan and fill the same, with love of everything, until it has experienced rot. Until we are faced with days of hunger, nights of sleepless hours, as pain eats at the core of your soul. Malnutrition and satisfaction will never seem too far from reality. Until you too are stripped of the luxury to eat. Consumption has become the lesser of two evils.

And yet we come from royalty, internal treasures designed to maintain legacy. Stolen, branded, lost, studied, and still we forget our worth. And with all the riches of the world, under one sun. Wealth is not given, nor seemingly earned. As glory can be bestowed, it can thus be taken, the wealth is in the wise. For the wisdom comes when one has lived… long enough to find pleasure in the simple things of life that can never be replaced. Long enough to value that time is more than just seconds placed in chronological order it must not be taken for a fool.

And so stolen minutes with the sun, trace back to all the people who have walked in my life, and been gently removed. This world we live in is real. Cosmic energy filtered through tunnels that reposition people in your life. Accidents don’t just happen. But it seems that we must all learn the meaning of unity in every context. When friends become replacements for family, learning that bloodline only carries name without the knowledge of our strength. Dependable is not based on gender or age. Blessings come with those defined by existence and longevity, stability and purpose. When the enemy attempts to invade infrastructures and support systems, you find out where loyalty lies. But why must we be stricken with distraction and destruction to feel each other’s pain. Why does it take natural disasters for us to help and heal without disdain? For we are a people of the same blood, the same breath, this air has supplied us with enough to co-exist, why not do it together? Disunity has gotten us graves.

And what of this world we walk. This land we have been forced to live on. What of the souls that inhabit space and time. The stillness in the air, the darkness in the night, what of the power of the stars. How not us forget to explore all aspects. For it seems we have been caught in one dimension, self. Even though we sleep in a state of darkness, disguised by bags once filled with hope, dreams and nightmares are real. Reality is that your actions will retrace there steps, ultimately coming back to you. And if sight is removed and voice is muted, only then shall the people watch what they subject their souls to and begin to dwell in possibility. Living in dark, only then shall we really see the light in all things.

Is it too much to ask for all to dream with me. What hangs behind my garment of faith, and bags full of hope may not be the same as you, but just try. Because we easily create concrete motives of communication to discredit each other, forming words into knives split by the tongue. Let us just dream for a while. A reality fantasized by desire, understanding, and love. Contemplating that one step forward, will be enough to never look back. And are you willing to take the first step? Let us stop testing mankind with our evils, and see how far hope can take us…I just dream of a time with no worry. For if at one second we all can have the courage to step up. Living would be easier. So let us all gaze in the sun and day-dream for just a few minutes and put nightmares back into figures of imagination not reality.

Saturday, January 16, 2010

He touched my soul. And I cant let go. Constantly comparing moments with time. Prejudging individuals off the mold in my mind. And yes, he did touch me that deep. Had my thought surrounding his existence . problems, expression, solutions, I was thinking. Pulled in by his silence. Yet kept by his conviction. And now left with him lost, yet still with this addiction. Seconds traveled through elevation, I mourn his lost in my life, but he is still living. Powerful being. Life taught lessons so bad, he wants it to stop teaching. Drop out on experience. Because it was him bleeding. Bending and feeling. And all I could do was love. Stuck ,paralyzed by how he’s been treated, unknown words for the completing, only knowing what he speaks is what he is living. And then silence. The void of pain, hijacking reality kept me silent, in thought. Without words. Just gestures. But with love. And he touched me. Just his endurance through life impressed me. Could have never spoke or connected, but imprints would have still pierced me. Took the child out of me and brought back the innocence. Had me smiling when I felt weak. at my peaks. Tender affection. Could feel the state and friction. Frightened by escape and trapped by affection. And finally finding someone who didn’t care, but actually mattered. Gentle impressions of stride that spent more than seconds covered me. He impressed me with his simplicity yet changed me. Scattered love through spectrums of dreams tilted by life’s default and inflexible mold. Guilt ridden by failed aspirations and family death written into existence. He tumbled. He fell. He stayed down, sucked into black. Crawling. ground… yet lived. And slowly he is rising. Yet living. He changed me. In ways my words can’t come to be. Comparing intellect, and ability. Powerless sometimes. But strong through all. Manifesto power horse. Raging machine, inside. Yet his outlet keeps catching fire. At the Wrong time. Regardless his sparks still burnt my soul.

Prophetic Language Spoken Part I (july 2008)

Prophetic language spoken pt I

Prophetic language spoken
From lips that lick my insides
Tongue soaked
From fulfilling cravings
Simple descriptions
Sexy saturations
Off elevation
Achieving the purest satisfaction
Reason worth living
Got my heart skipping

Chills through my body
Sends him on waves
Up and down
Up and down
Up and
On air
Away from temptation
Yet towards completion
Towards him
Forward, and forward,
Yearning him

Heavy breathing
Body tingling
I can't help but close my eyes
Bottom lip biting
Back scratching desires
Waiting for reasons to miss u
Once gone,
Once awake
Once alone
Once done

Seems like slow motion
Moving through me
As he moves through me
Body heat
Strong chemistry
Glow in his eyes
Glow within me
Time to make him miss me
Leave imprints so deep
Hard to split dreams from reality
Memories from fantasy
My time to shine, glide
My time to ride

guest showcase

Someone said “The best writers are the best readers.” Words are powerful. They have the ability to capture emotion, put time into each frame of second, explore the realms of other worlds, and explain this one. Words are what people take for granted, what often times can be the simplest form of expression, or maybe the most complicated. But we give and take this power. For we can control how these words hurt, harm, heal, and honor. And so we forget this.

Writer’s block hit my last year harder than ever. My words no longer eloquently dripped from each finger. Gliding across the page, documenting each move, each expression, each memory. The lost of such has given me new insight and appreciation. Helping me become… a better reader.

And so I open my blog up to highlight, showcase, and recognize others writings. Here are the details…

I will do a bi-monthly feature/guest showcase. It will be one person/one group. I will give a review or my personal comments on the writer and the piece. Any background details, or links to personal webpage, or blog need to be sent prior to my post.

If you are interested: Send no more than 5 pieces to: I will read, reply, and pick one to post. It can be any form, structure, or format. The length should not exceed the necessary depth of the piece. Meaning: Please keep it to a length that you would pay attention to and defer from.

I look forward to reading how words can be manipulated, used, abused, and glorified in order to magnify another meaning…More information about the specific dates/deadlines for each month will be posted soon...



needing inspiration...

• I am poem
• Be poem
• Who are you?
• What does tomorrow mean to you?
• Your thoughts:
o In 4 lines
o One sentences
o 3 words
o Kwansaba: 7 lines, 7 words, with 7 letters or less per word
• Definition, Expression, Meaning… Exploration:
o Love, Likes, Family, Friends, Happiness, Sadness, Success, Dreams, Justice, Freedom, Goals, Future., Past, Present, NOW, Music, Pride, Prejudice, Racism, Peace, Education, Knowledge, Short Comings, Improvements, Unity, Glory, God, Power, respect, Service, Community, Senses, Wisdom, Truth, History, Faith, Hope, Passion, Pleasure, Lineage….
• Current Events
• How do you prepare for change?
• What is stronger than strength?
• Passion vs. Pleasure
• The natural elements
• What is worst, judgment or fear?
• Letter to God/ Mankind
• Culture
• Remake Song/Song inspired…
• The rose that grew from the concrete
• Misunderstood
• Tattooed under you eyelids…

Monday, January 11, 2010

Truth Is

A conversation between my Conscious and my Heart...

I am a fidget-er, staying still means I am losing seconds of important living, only time I like to pause is during love, mushy connotations of massaging palm lines leads to false pretenses and confusion neither u nor I are ready to climb

Heart-Maybe massaging palm lines is where I will discover the story of why u would rather keep ur secrets closed and stuffed in your pockets...

Truth hurts more than solitary confinement that is created by self image and insecurities, sometimes words mean more than poems and prose but those bars that prison each of us in cell blocks of emotions that are not always forgiving or freeing

light flight

here is a kwansaba i wrote on light..the illumination of light and spectrum... i hope its not too much... and a kwansaba is 7 lines, 7 words, with 7 letters or less.. enjoy...

Trips along color wheels, spectrum light deflects
Purple-blues, light hugues, blurr focus expected
Spirals; connect the dots- game of explore
Jugle fever, mixture black light exposure- solid
creating memory to recap, hatch, to justify
Puzzle broken, taped to explode, freshly molded
Crimsons, golden ring- jump sky high lows.


Strangers, we met, forever connected: us.
Stubborn, I met judgement with you
A decision to collide with you.
Standing face to face with satisfaction
Beauty, your soul is a blessing
I watched the stars with you
Sat, walked the clouds with you
Talked to god through your greatness
Closed my eyes, to see possibility
Opened my heart, found endless beauty
Mind traveled roads, all circling you
Stuck in reality, leaving with you
You redefined my smile, to include you
Warm my soul, without your touch
Innocent mental combat, I battle you
Met my match, I balance you
Moving my lips, forever thanking you
Hidden treasure, your always on time
Six word stories documenting our lives
Cherish every minute shared with you
Sudden death of fear inside
Found strength from loving you
Opened, shared, explored our worlds together
Reflection, what I've been running from
All I have found in you
Reminder: faith should always move steady
True noursihment comes with letting go
I smile from thoughts of you
Asked to remain loyal to acts
Promise to be honest with you
My actions backing as mouth moves
Wordsplay not just me writing you
Adding propane to the fire, fiery
Ignite love, find peace, keep truth
A richness , its more than you
Hope our souls explore galaxies together
More than physical desires of you
Love me from afar, stay tru
I just want to keep you
So much richer from experiencing you
Finding the line between
Vulnerability and strength
The love and god in you.
A blessing, I have found in you.
Thank you.

Friday, January 8, 2010

from afar

i watched him sleep from afar
i feel the way his body slants in the bed
hear his breathing, slowly deepen
as he travels roads sleeping in god's thrown
smell his scent, caress each portion of my soul with my senses
melt each fear in my heart
without touch
i can visualize our bodies colliding
magically intertwining
minds exploring cavities, avenues, and roads
destined for greatness
smiling from your absence
miles away i can feel your energy
beside me inside me, around me
silence, trembles, heart bumping...
eyes closed, we sleep in the same bed
even from afar
he is next to me.

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

a men

I come to you in question
In theory
In practice
Wishing for clarification
Hoping for understanding
Needing balance
How do I give
All to you
How do I let go
And when blessings come How do I know
That line between
And lust.
How do I not confuse love with lusting more?
Desire with greed?
Where do I find balance?
In the simplest form
Lead me to clarity.
And stregthen me to trust my internal desires and convictions.
Knowing my inner guide is you.
Leading my journey
Stumbling,yet I walk
Arriving late, though I make my desitnation.
Time does not detour me.
Connect my desires with your lead.
Calm me.
Be my sight.
While I be of you.
How do I give in
Without being weak?
Where does the line
Between vulnerability and strength meet?