The Flooded What--13 Minutes of FreeFlow Writing

I remember times when I wrote to be free.
Now I write only to free the enslaved minds from times of thus described
It could be live or recorded and shown on Hulu.
Some might call it voodoo and I’d then be inclined to call their thought process do-do but I would refrain.

I feel somewhat ashamed and pained that my own hometown is still arguing over whether or not to consolidate. Goverment and Education!

I’m sure there are much bigger fish to fry or grill, but it is what it is.
Why not focus on what is being taught and learned?
Pretty soon, if they don’t get it together, school books may just be bought and burned.
Tossed in urns and lost at sea.

I remember when I fell asleep one time and it felt like my soul was lost at sea.
But not really lost.
I was on a speedboat and, now, I just grace NYC with my presence.
At the same time, try not to speed to toasting too early.

There is always a just time to celebrate but I be feeling like there is much more work to be done.
Ignorant folk already figured out that there is much more dumb to be done. 
And I figure that the projects are heaven until those who are slummed get a dose of the suburbs.

So what herb flavor did you blow lately?

Sedating the medulla and cerebral cortex into the rubber soles of goretex.

More sex is what the horny want.
Be it not necessarily what they need.
Sometimes its greed.
Sometimes is just a matter of being.
All in all, through my engine-revving study of the Four Noble Truths, this here is just a matter of how I see it.

I got it so why should I have to try to seize it? God gave it--- so what is there other to do than believe it?

And even, if there ain’t no God, everything is matter of choice and will.
The same folk that choose to be non-violent could be the same ones who exercise the choice to kill.
This here life don’t seem anymore than a matter of the free, the choiced and willed.

I wish clef lip kids could get a free grill.
The hungry could get a free meal.
The broke could get repaired and healed but I guess, to me,  it’s like controlling diabetes.
You decide what you will or won’t be.

If I witness a murder, is it better to say, “I’m glad that shit wasn’t me”?

I prefer not to get cloned because Lord knows I don’t need a double me.
And I use to and still do love the Double Tree, Hotel.
But now I remember the days at the Red Roof.
Me Ari and Brad.
And days that my momma had her drug run-ins.

Look at our society and see the shifts in consciousness.
Drugs run in the front door and stick up mental faculties.
Some folk benefit, opening up the minds eye.
Other folk lose hold of the mind,
Collecting benefits from a Social Security Department,
Who issue the 9 numbers, credit for being unable or crazy.

Kinda hazy it is to me how things are.

We choose not to provide for ourselves much anymore so the government'll do it.
Giving them the freedom to make the rulings,
And now this thought process has got me to thinking about whether or not to start my non-profit.
But I see that it’s more a matter of how you do it when you do it.
I’m glad that I remembered that.

As I sit, (cuz in a few minutes my lunch break here in the West Village will be over), or rather sat,
I started writing this just 11 minutes ago.
Just to flush out---color-filled thoughts, un-judged, unashamed and un-lost.
What this cost is nothing more than some time and focus.
Sublimed-up, lined-up like uncut potent-- non-spoken.
This here is liberation.
Line 40 Column 43 penetration.


Written December 7, 2010 (Edited December 8, 2010)

SEEKING SOLACE: PEACE IN THE MIDST OF WAR

I find myself sometimes only seeking solace.
With understanding s of my novice skills, the plan is to orchestrate deals so that I may make something real out of these dreams that many call illusions.  

See it, believe it achieve it! Seemingly, at times I find myself caught in the machine that some call life.
I have found no other choice but to love but sometimes it is an emotional roller coaster!  
But what a ride.  

I love this life thing.
and as my heart continues to sing and my mind continues to harmonize, I love to do the same.   
I know there’s more to me like there are more cities to Tennessee.  
Like there are more mixers for Hennessy,
And I can and will grin at me while standing in the mirror facing my own symmetric chemistry.  Challenging the inner me.  
Not again asking God to enter me because I know now that God lives in me….this has become my radiation of energy…splendidly….
But I still ask,  “Who am I ?” “And who do i choose to be?”  

And who me in the midst of denial phases when you question the I?
If I go nowhere at all, I am still are somewhere. I am now here.  
So if now I am here and here I am now, then now I are prepared!  
Of course I am.  Indeed the world spins and soars at the same time.
Not coming down, but only moving through cycles.
Cycling while ciphering, while caring for and sharing more than our small human minds could ever imagine.  

Imagine, Stalin masks draped over male slave craniums while working their way up a corporate ladder.  
While women and children climb behind them feeling the torture of loosened bladders….
At time I unleash the matter of the mind to expand time…
I climb, they climb,  we climb…..so please move your digits from being stepped on….
Because those climbing up the corporate ladder are trying to move digits while being stepped on
Stepping on those under them while conversing on brand new cellphones…..
Climbing to Heaven……Finding a heaven…grinding the lessons….where timing is every...thang…

But the punch clock promise seems Amish….
Mixed with a clasp of Catholic….Unsuccessfully, I tried to master the art of spoken word….
AKA written verbal heard and only realized that I had already mastered it…..
so now it just lives thru me and on the walls of willing listening hearts I  delicately scribble this literary art With crayons  plastering and remolding art……on hearts….
Thrown darts that touch like acupuncture pins,
This passion packs a grin while stepping into so-called sin and making it a long lost friend…
Time mends and trends grow only to die, only be re-birthed…

Mother Earth and Daughter Nature hurt….due to environmental prostitution and the gluttonous and Believed illusion of five-fingered greed being forced under their skirts…….
They both tried to yell rape in the form of earthquakes…domestic violence moved tectonic plates….
While the gale force tsunamis of harassment take down walls and the horrid hurricane water of poverty. Turn humans from the poor, who had a chance, into the poverty-stricken  to martyrs….
Sorrow it seems, is sprinkled on tomorrows dreams…

The small amounts of people who live the loving moments push those beliefs into tomorrows scenes….
While those who knowingly invest other things invest in tomorrows screams….
Whether it is the rich with a plan for the poor or the poor with a plan to get rich.
The game switches sides …Catch the glitch.... if the rich have a plan for the poor?  
Wouldn’t it only make sense that the poor would have a plan for the rich?
But the poor only plan to get rich?  Hmmm…makes me think a little bit…

See, it takes two to tango and one person can two step alone but the right foot needs the left foot for balance. Why would it attempt that balance through attempting to strut alone?  
That’s like man with no woman….…..
unknowingly, to the naked third eye, the alledgely poor un-knowledgeable  novice seeks solace while attempting to master masters. Conquer conquerors. Enrich the rich and pour into the poor.
Only for all of them to decided whether their glass is half empty or half full…....

Should they question it or experience it’s essence?
Does the essence lack essence due to how much essence in the glass?
In essence the real lesson what?  
A teacher must learn how to teach, therefore they must first be a student…..
A warrior must learn how to kill to preserve life.   
A poet and MC must learn how to read before they write and learn to write before they speak.
A child must learn  how to extend their arms in order to learn how to reach…….
And the freedom must first be dumb in order to be free……
And seemingly we must learn how to war just to maintain peace.

SIR STEVE FOX x CURTIS MAYFIELD'S "AIN'T NO LOVE LOST"

Thought it was best to share!  A friend named Kelley Davis asked me to write a piece for her about her about a specific subject.  This is what I came up with on the spot and now I've decided to make it a part of a new project.  Thank you Kelley for pulling such a wholesome poetry piece from my soul!  One Love!

Indecent Exposure X Zach Hyman

I love riding the subway and the grimey shit that happens on it really helps my creativity!  Everything is art, especially our public transportation.  I found this shot on the internet and I can't wait to meet Zach and do some art shows with him.  Here is a little quote from Zach about why he does what he does.  Be ye inspired!  Break the rules every now and again!

"I'm doing it because it excites me and excites other people that are comfortable with their body," Hyman said. "This is a little more innocent than a flasher. This picture is for me and the model."

"An A-Train Thang" X 9/12/2010 6:13pm

The first scribblings of a new Moleskin are delivered via the Downtown-Bound A-Train. 

Fresh off of live underground jazz bands and crowded subway platforms,

Where ladies stand with babies in arms.

The charm ,of New York City never ceases--nor ceases to amaze me, or--

The others I am unintentionally surrounded by.

Upon this A-Train,

Earphones plug the ears and backpacks crowd isles between the holding poles' available seating.

This is the Subway Series--where, even on time-truant days,

There is always a fair share of available defeatings.

Greetings are treasured.  

Especially those of seldomed happiness.

Most of them though, are those of negative connotation....

Like,

"Could you get the hell out of my way please!!!!!?"???!!!"

Or...

"F**k you too!!!"

This was, and is, your Downtown A-Train, making all stops to Lefferts Blvd. 

        

        "Step inside of the closing doors please."



Our Beautiful 2Morrow 2Day

Always and forever more, I'll love you like I love my brothers.

Although suckas try to railroad ya or Mack tractor truck-ya---

Those cats are just losers.  Opposite of winners--- Memph-City abusers.

I wrote this for you, with no beat. Only God inside the home of my mind as well as outside of my window.

Love being pumped to my heart, meeting my mental.

I see what they tried to get you into!

It started waaay back with Mr. Jackson.

Running the natives off and then thought they'd be relaxing.

But you so resilient and you have seen everything they've done.

Now I see why you got favor on me (us) baby, we (I) won,

We (I) were slum! Ducking in the streets when them shots popped off.

A 1/4 mile nomadic bullet took that homies top right off.

You scared me time and time again, but spared me time and time again.

I take it you were just showing and inspiring me how to be a man.

Martin died there, so you showed me how to lend a hand.

And lend a voice, to those who don't know how to expose feelings.

Deal with mis-dealings, mistreatments and what not!

I left you to move to NYC on some, "WHAT NOW?"

But I, maintained focus, it ain't take to long.

Right or wrong? Or whether I write it short or long? You know what I"m on---

You want me to own, moving along, loving me, my own.

And then it won't be long before I'm back.

Teaching through showing these cats how to act.

How to set it up, throw the right curve ball.

How to rightly field a grounder, how to make self so astounding.

Spent days through Central Park tossing lucky coins off into fountains,

Wishing only the best for us, un-unjust....it's just-us, baby.

Some of these folk crazy to fathom us separated,

To fathom us, "city of the dead" and label us "se-dated".

This be for my folk in the streets and those in that corner office.

For my folk in Forest Hill Cemetery, resting peacefully in the coffin

This is for those crying and coughing. I know you tired of being oppressed often.

I know it seems awful, but baby girl but we good now.

I just need you to stick wit me like Clyde and Bonnie.

I'm back in the hood now, doin' this just like I should, now.

They gonna say a lot and throw a lotta hate,

But we gonna play the game raw and wait for it to cross the plate.

Then abuse it like a corked bat.

then hit the lounge and tell the waitress to uncork that.

This is celebration from the pain and sorrow---

I love you today, with a state to appreciate a beautiful tomorrow!

Steven Fox - @ Hip-Hop Subway Series, NYC, 3/7/10.