I came to realize,
that writing is both a blessing,
and a curse.

For those whom I don't write about,
my writing is beautiful,
filled with depth,
and worded perfectly.

But those whom I write about,
are often angered,
by the fact that I express my thoughts of them at all.

My tongue is a double-edged sword,
it is healing to me,
but damaging to you.

But still,
I write anyway.

my skeleton never liked me
very much. it cracks in unusual
places, ribcage poking out of its
skin prison, the frailty of it
breaking beneath the musical
whispers of the wind through hollow
spaces.  i see

light bursting beneath the flash
of a camera and my skin
incinerates - do not look do not touch
do not look - and the charcoal in
my lungs is set on fire. i wake up
with ash beneath my tongue
far too often. my skin

despises me now that i have
bruises in places no one could
kiss better. there's this scar above
my right knee, which dislocates when
my life falls out of its socket, and it
reopens and blood pours from the
renewed wound too often. i think

i have a body that likes to believe it is dying.

I cant sleep,
I'm afraid that I might dream..

For most,
dreaming's common, some even have themes,
Some even foresee the future, some even have schemes,
Some have a plot and ******, even opening scenes,
Some even might get frisky, have you opening jeans..

but my dreams differ.
my dreams, are dreams, of the Tigris river.
my dreams, are visions of an old poor giver.
Old, forgiver.
walking along the side of the Euphrates with Hades,
go figure.

my dreams differ.
at times i hear the angels in the heavens as they bicker.
At times i see the time of my own death on a ticker.
click click....

I always try to slow it down. Its become a regular thing..
But the Fates are constantly pulling my string.
using it as a guitar, Such a harmonious scene.
Especially for a man, not destined to dream.

My mind wonders, but more so it wanders,
Its plausible that lack of sleep will be my demise...
But till that day comes, i'll continue to daydream, because my only nightmare is closing my eyes...

-afj

Most schools have projects, in science classes and such.
Most of us, mastered the science of surviving in projects.

It's those at the bottom who need the most help, but cant even get proper school supplies.. where's the logic ?.

But oh, the rags to riches story is prevalent isn't it? Nope, the only rich I know is Professor Richard.

And that's not even something worth mentioning, he does more lessening than lessons lets paint the picture..

But these young kids don't understand, they try to curse them, place them in prisons, its a trap from birth..

Give them these Rick Rosses as role models, knowing they don't have fathers, instead of Tupac Shakur, showing them worth..

My bestfriend Tony once questioned his dark skin, just like i once questioned my brown.

how profound, a couple 4th graders at the time, having to prove that they were "down".

Crazy how Tony proved he was down, now i visit his site yearly on November the third.

And things aren't getting better, but nobody gives a ****, haven't you heard..

The prayers our mothers chant, ritually every night.

Praying to the Sun gods, perhaps one day we'll all unite.


-afj