Here I go again
Dating the Wind
When It blows west
Times are the best
but when It blows East
Unleashed is the beast
Sovereignty in me
Subdued to the least
by Miscomprehension
and Bipolarist addiction
I’m left with my love
More a state of affliction

It was a Sunday night,
a Sunday night that was
truly a Monday morning,
but the darkness,
coupled with
the heaviness of my body's
desire for rest,
to me it still felt like
nighttime.

The sweetly scented candles
flickered silently,
their aroma
filling my nostrils
as the sounds of
a
cliché romance movie
filled my
eardrums.

The dry red wine
poured smoothly
from
        the bottle to
                             my empty glass
        for the fourth time
   that
night.

Yes, it was a Sunday
night,
the pain and miscomprehension
clouding my mind
more than
another glass or
another hit
ever could.

How heavy
it all
    weighed


down
on
me

that
Sunday night;

That Sunday night,
I knew
I loved you,
but you never
loved me
back, and

That
Sunday night,
in the
darkness,
I sipped slowly,
blinked softly,
and
out
came
the
tears

that
I
had
resisted

for
many
nig­hts
just
like
this.

It was a Sunday night
when I finally
cried.

Again.

What can I say
That has not been said?
What words do I have
But those in my head?

How could I phrase
When words can’t be found?
How could I know
Miscomprehension profound?

What do I wait for?
Where do I go?
Who do I search for?
How should I know?

So do what you do,
Just say what you mean;
There’re words you owe me
Somewhere I’ve never seen.

Yo to keep it 100 -
If I could go back in time I wouldn't.
Let the records hold they place.
I'm done tryin to convince you both the things I been threw.
Before my jersey was in  the rafters,
I was like Vince before he left the Raptors,
Bounding over boundaries like I had shox in my shoes.
You see I tried to impress the judges - I was shocked by the boo's,
My heart turned colder than Toronto cause all my exes were actors,
See I had to ditch diplomacy ; depend against my attackers,
I felt like a loan warrior and then suddenly - I grew,
My limbs stretched further than my imagination,
My torso was more so like a river basin,
but as my body grew in size , the guilt I carried did too,
Before I knew it - my shadow covered the ground like a sheet,
Amazed by the mass I had amassed - I was in disbelief I now stood more than 81 ft,
Now everything I never knew was within my reach,
But peep
The burdens that I bear be on some revenant.
I fed my guilt, it fed off me - I was JUST like Rick Moranis.
I'm Ja Morant or maybe more like Miles Morales..
I'm more and more embarrassed ..by the Aurora Borealus..... left by my shame.
I was forced to swallows my pride - **** be ****** up my larynx,
But I'm boarding up my barracks,
And I'm suggesting you to do the same,
I'm running gags like lil homie from home alone,
I been on DND ever since karma called my home,
Mfs want my jazz but not my blues - I'm more like Karl Malone,
I tried to blame the refs for my fugue state,
when it was me that here .. in the first place.
The victim was the culprit.

Over me it loomed -
dropped an anvil of anguish like they do in ****** tunes,
I'm hangin on by a thread not even lilo could stitch me,
Had to walk it like I talk it - fate tied the shoes on my tongue,
My skin singed by the sharp pain of the 1000 looks,
My skull crushed under the weight of 1000 books,
I had to eat my words, I couldn't stomach it,
My indigestion was incomprehensible,
My miscomprehension of of my tendons was indefensible,
The guilt of feelin like a ship with no direction.
That gut feelin to cut feelins cause **** get deep like a Cesarean Section..

Wise are the parents who give
their children difficult names.

Names that are a chant to God,
a sacrament with every utterance.

Or names that light a fiery rebellion
in the mulling brain.

Names that speak of the glory
that was before the slave ships.  

Names that display the wonder of sky,
the Eagle, Buffalo, Wolf, Deer.

Names that should hurt and choke
when mispronounced.

Braves names spoken
by brave and unafraid people.

Names shouted loud by those
who fearlessly, openly love.

Those who dropped their names
in the easy English soil, reclaim them!

Speak it in the accent of the old country,
the tribes of the African plain and rivers,

the screech, rumble of the clouds, creatures
that gave you your forever sound.

Gather your jewels from the ashes.
Mine them until they get their attention.

Collect the pieces of your lost continents
from their miscomprehension.

Your difficult names predate centuries
of their arrogance, ignorance, prejudice.

You are history
not their rewrite.  

Don’t explain your name’s meaning
to those who have forgotten your story.

You are the original and
they are the stereotype.

Bend your syllables, vowels
into a new understanding country.

Keep your difficult names
proudly unassimilated.

Keep it
your home.