"To be, or not to be" (William Shakespeare from Hamlet)
As it's been asked. I question the choice to choose or
Not to choose, in the fitting affairs of what would
You do in someone else's shoes (Walking their mile)

Place yourself in another;
The life of a sister or a brother. Racial barriers:
What are they, but one's blind hatred for another colour?
If you lived the life they do, how would their
Discrimination leave an affect on you?
When the same of the world, isn't the same in your
Sphere,– a harsh word said publicly neither sheds a tear.
But you identify yourself in the identity of what
You've been told; in a world where the new is just
A reincarnation of an old.

I guess,
The hate of back then is just a new,
Coming back around all over again. On repeat:
The hurt on ourselves; repeated on children's grandchildren.
High expectations we've set get so taller and taller,
While the worth of ourselves gets so belittled by a former.

What's change with yesterday's chains,
Shame that replaces a familiar name;
Those who don't give a **** are ******
In a nation under your nose; vaguely it understands.
What do you stand for on the stands of your life,
And who do stand with,– be it your God, your family
Your friends, a husband or a wife?

Be not kind in just for appearance and status.
Trade good from the bad given, the love you have
To dilute the hate. "I know they hate us,
But it was never the hate that created us"

It was love...

So to be, or not to be: Do you be the not
Of what they want be,– or rather not to be,
Of all the world's faults, that is the question.

i am
considering
buying tickets
to a lecture
on the cosmos
though my thoughts
have often
dwelt
amongst the celestials
in one form
   or another
i know little
beyond
what was learnt
at school;
cursory details
when the vastness
of the universe
is considered

there is a desire
to understand
   from where we came
   of what made us
   how we came to be
and
   our chances
      for a future
there is
a radiance
and pageantry
to the stars;
an expanse
that should incite
inspiration
   and wonder
instead
this infinity
is a subject
dominated by
doomsdayers
   and
      doomsayers
without much
pity left
for
the rest of us

if i do
choose
to attend
i know that
i’ll be lost
to the magnificence
of the dwarfs
   and nebulas
understanding
at best
half
of all that
is proffered

to be honest
i’m not sure
its worth
the £50
plus postage
when i think
i can predict
how it will end;
warnings
will be given
and advice
   imparted
unfortunately
there is
no guarantee
i will still
be listening

living off
of apologies and time
spent in desperation
recollecting and reflecting
on where
all of the good vibes went
then
I may have smoked them.

underestimating my
control
of the situation
like I'm not
educated in protecting
my Peace
and healing my whole
mind, body
and Spirit

deflecting questions of
my integrity
all
because I prefer
complexity -
it takes me
three lefts
to make it right.

also some
times
I have to remind
myself
that it's okay
to cry
boiling hot emotions
got this little black kettle
singing high

currently
I'm choking
on the
hard pill
of a broken home
..heartache
worse than a broken bone
this is admitting to myself
that
I could be traumatized.
True.

I need a
get away
like Lenny says
quick break
with Mary, Garcia
and Vega
the only chance I ever get
to take flight.

in all Honesty
I am really
tired
of people
pushing me
and pulling me.
college drop-outs
they think
they schooling me
they are
tools to me.
Shorty,
swing my way
with that hammer
No
I'm not
driving for that *****.

some say real
Love is
Black
some say it's
blue..
I say it's both
you know
the winners
always leave with
a little
bruise .
or two . .
or3 . . .

there probably may come
a time of day
where
you have to choose
whether
to lose
yourself
in this matrix
or
to fight
by your own rules
and well

Here

is to you,
my Little Light
your presence is proof
that some
times
choosing
True
Love is
the right thing to do.

A single path ahead,
Uneven, torn, and sinking.
My heart held up by thread,
Smothered, snuffed by thinking.
Eternally new fears,
And judgement from peers.

When do we begin dreading birthdays?
When does the count down to the new year begin to sound like the tick tick tick of a time bomb?
When do days become hours
hours become minutes
minutes become seconds?
When do we finally stop and realize that we’ve lived seven years longer than our best friends?

Time is a fickle mistress

She moves so slowly when you’re young
When you want nothing more than for her to rush up and greet you
Then
in a blink
She’s gone before you can even utter a “Hello.”

But how are we to appreciate something we cannot feel?
How are we to gasp at the presence of something we cannot see?
How are we to sing a beautiful melody we cannot hear?

I wanted to see you today.
Catch up like we always do, but don’t do enough.
But Time, I guess, had other plans.

Assignments were filling up my inbox, papers just couldn’t be ignored any longer, and I was tired from not sleeping well the night before and my cat had to choose today to knock over the T.V., shattering the screen, and my mother called, you know how she can just drone on and on, and then I had to stare at my fridge for at least twenty minutes before deciding the chips in the pantry will curb my hunger fine, then this emergency at work and this thing with my sister…

Then
before you know it
it’s two in the morning
and I need to go to bed.

But those are all just excuses, aren’t they?
A bunch of moments to distract from the guilt from not seeing you.

You see, Time is a man-made creation
not some external force of nature.
Sure, the sun and moon glide across the sky,
but the meaning of that was assigned by us.
The day doesn’t begin when we open our eyes
there are plenty of cheap coffee mugs that say otherwise
So it doesn’t have to end when the light in the sky dies

Time is not a fickle mistress.

She’s in the gray hairs that grow with our wisdom,
In the wrinkles that are carved from our laughter
In the aches in our bones from dancing just a little bit too long

We are time.

And I’m sorry
I’m sorry for not making Time for you.

it's been used
quite meaninglessly
twice
    maybe
       three times
and
in between that
it is simply
a dust trap
in hindsight
it was
a waste

i must
have known
that it would
barely
     if ever
get used
lured
beyond sense
     and reason;
the novelty
behind the idea
silenced
any concept
of logic
     or prudence

being able
to say
i own
the same typewriter
as such
a great mind
must mean
something

even so
         if not
it shall remain
on display
esoteric
ironic
impotent
amidst the pages
of my bookshelf

I haven’t forgotten
the sound of your voice
or the way lines form
next to your eyes
when you smile
Though
I’m sure you’ve forgotten
those things about me
and everyday that passes
I think less and less
about that
or whether or not
you think of me or
if you lose sleep at night
like I did over you
The earth still turns
the sun still shines
and today is still today
with or without you