I've been dying for 34 years. It's a slow process. Every year I celebrate how many years I've been dying. I never thought I'd make it this far.

Statistically I should've been 21 by the time I got it right. Knowing that I've beat the odds doesnt make me feel any better. Instead of dying by some random act of violence, I am aware of the fact that I'll be aware of what I die from. That death seems harder to me. I would much rather prefer the clinical unfeeling anonimity of a bullet, than that of a disease that has a name, that we haven't managed to cure yet.

I think this is why babies sleep so much. Even in their infantile minds, they know the day that they are born is also the day that they begin to die. Being that dying can be a long process, you need lots of sleep to prepare for it. When we're older and more comfortable with the idea of death, we tend to sleep less. Why is this?

I think man wants to live forever. I don't mean some magical fountain of youth type of eternity. I think we live on in our children. How else is it that my son looks so much like me? If not for the fadedness of the pictures you could replace me with him and no one would know the difference.

The only thing that bothers me is that I probably wont know when I die. I'm probably going to be one of the lucky ones who dies in his sleep, not screaming like the rest of the people in the car. I hear that I stop breathing several times a night. I used to wake up when this happened, now my body is so used to it I no longer do so. I guess theres worse ways to die. Still I would prefer to be awake when it happens so that I might embrace it. To quote some old dead white guy "I will not go gently into that good night."

I dont write this to elicit any particular response. As usual I'm merely writing what is on my mind. I've noticed that when I write something serious it seems to get glossed over. In the year and change that I've been posting things here it seems that my audience would think that I'm a baffoon. Think what you will but this is me. I'm not playing the ratings game or the popularity games anymore. To quote Shrek "I've got layers, like an onion." This is but one of them. For those of you that prefer the baffoon, hiccup a diccup till it make you siccup!

i don't look at myself in the mirror because i'm a narcissist,
i simply like to watch myself exist.
now i'm in a fog and mist,
now my reflection is anonymous.
ponder this...

i've seen a reflection of my soul in the store window.
caught in limbo 'cause i was dressed all in timbo's.
having vivid fantasies of playing polo with ralph lauren on a tommy hill,
and my paper-thin spirit was still grieving from the versace kill
in florida. opened the door to the store and i walked through the corridor,
to see they had a blow out sale on nautica.
i've always been a lord of the button down flies,
and being they were half-priced, i just passed 'em on by, looking for levis.

but guess, what? all my favorite clothing lines and hip designs,
were being liquidized and it made me sick to my eyes.
i don't understand, when i had no ends, the price was quick to rise.
i'd buy a pair of "trends" even if they didn't fit my size.
purchase a surplus of "fads" from merchants whose ads
made these cheap ass fabrics that were so worthless and sad
just look priceless. they used unethical devices
to attack my sense of self-worth during my prepubescent crisis.
it fed into my insecurities, so instead of being righteous,
i want everyone to see me like this. "son, it's all about who looks the nicest."

ice is falling off my rolie onto my body, "shoot!
i hope to hell it doesn't melt and ruin my armani suit."
while i'm sweatin' this, some kid who doesn't got any loot
is buying my necklace along with my same exact khakis and army boots.
"what?! this is blasphemous!"
since adidas tried changing its logo, there ain't been nothing as wack as this.
it's probably a stunt being pulled by animal rights activists,
because of all that third world country garbage, but i'm a pacifist.
so while these monkeys sweat over my name brands that exchange hands
from enslaved lands, i wonder if i'm the same man
without reward for what i bought but can't still afford.
this is the type of self-realization that might have killed the lord.
i didn't mind working for free as a walking billboard,
but now i want my money back, as the ice spilled and poured
onto the floor. i did see a distorted reflection of my nike hat,
now i don't know how others might react.
for me it was an unsightly act that helped me get my psyche back.
i stood 5 feet back, afraid that it might strike me like "shaclack clack!"
you think i'm kidding? think it's no big thing?
what i seen made my heart hurt, stomach turn, throat burn, teeth cringe, spine tingle, and ribs sting.
i noticed that the swoosh symbol was nothing but a whip in mid-swing.

i don't look at myself in the mirror because i'm a narcissist,
i simply like to watch myself exist.
now i'm in a fog and mist,
now my reflection is anonymous.

I got no comments on this one the first time I posted it. It's probably commercially known by now, but when I presented it to you all it was some really hot shit. Here goes: I hope you enjoy it again, for the first time.

Sha Clack Clack

i know you are but what am I?

infinity

if i could find the spot where truth echoes
i would stand there and whisper memories of my children's future
i would let their future dwell in my past
so that i might live a brighter now

now is the essence of my domain
but it contains all that was and will be
and i am as i was and will be
because i am and
always will be that nigga

i am that nigga

i am that timeless nigga
that swings on pendulums like vines
though mines of booby-trapped minds
that are enslaved by time
i am the life that supersedes lifetimes

i am

it was me with serpentine hair
that witha timeless stare
turned mortal fear into stone time capsules
they still exist as the walking dead
as i do: the original suffer-head
symbol of life
and matriarchy's severed head
medusa, i am

it was me the ecclesiastical one
that pointed out that nothing
was new under the sun
and through times of laughter and times of tears
saw that no time was real time
'cause all times were fear
the wise seer
Solomon, i am

it was me with tattered clothes
that made you scatter
as you shuffled past me on the street
yes, you shuffled past me on the street
as i stood there conversing with wind-blown spirits
and i fear it's your loss that you didn't stop and talk to me
i could have told you your past as i explained your present
but instead i'm the homeless schizophrenic
that you resent for being aimless
the intuned nameless,

i am
i am that nigga
i am that nigga
i am that nigga
i am a negro
negro from necro,
meaning death
i overcame it

so they named me after it
and i be spittin' at death from behind
and putting "kick me" signs on its' back
because i am not the son of
sha clack clack
i am before that
i am before
i am before before
before death is eternity
after death is eternity
there is no death there is only eternity
and i be riding on the wings of eternity
like: yah! yah!

sha clack clack

i exist like spit-fire
which you call the sun
and try to map out your future with sun-dails
but tic-toc-technology can no tic-toc me

i exist somewhere between tic and toc
dodging it like double-dutch
got me living double time
i was there before your time
my heart is made of the quartz crystals
that you be making clocks out of
and i be resurrection' every third
like: tic-tic-tic

sha clack clack

no i won't work a nine to five
because i am setting suns and orange moons
and my existence is this:
still
yet ever moving
and i am moving beyond time
because it binds me
it can set me free and
i'll fly when the clock strikes me
like: yah! yah!

sha clack clack

bvut my flight does not go undisturbed
because time makes dreams defer
and all of my time fears
are turning my days into day-mares
and i live day-mares
reliving nightmares
that once haunted my past

sha clack clack

time is beatin' my ass
and i be havin' dreams
of chocolate covered watermelons
filled with fried chicken like pinatas

with little pickaninny sons and daughters
standing up under them with
big sticks and aluminum foil,
hittin' them,
trying to catch pieces
of fallen fried chicken wings.
and aunt jemima and uncle ben
are standing in the corners
with rifles pointed at all of the heads
of the little children.

"don't shoot the children", i shout.
"don't shoot the children!"
But it's too late.
they've already been infected by time.
but this shit is before my time...
(i need more time! i need less time!)
...but it's too late.

they start shooting at the children
and killing them:
one by one
two by two
three by three
four by four
five by five
six by six
but my spirit is growing
seven by seven
faster than the speed of light
'cause light only penetrates the darkness
that's already there
and i am already there
i'm here at the end of the road
which is the beginning
of the road beyond time
but where my niggas at?
oh no
don't tell me
my niggas are lost in time
my niggas are lost in time

my niggas are dying before their time
my niggas are dying because of time.

Are you kidding me? That was and is some of the deepest shit I haveever heard in my life! Word to my dead gold-fish! I have nothing else to say! Nothing can be better than that. I'll write again when I've gotten over the enormity of the knowledge that was just dropped on you niggas out there. Dayum that shit was tight!

Profound thought of the moment: When I'm through giving you all my knowledge and my theory, I add a mother fucker so the ignant niggas hear me! - Lauryn Hill

This poem never grows old to me. Every now and again I find myself thinking about it. When that happens again, I'll post it again.

What the hell made you think the sun rose and set in your ass?
Fast I remove you from my itinerary
I tense you worry and exaggerate
becoming jealous at the drop of a dime, wanting to kill all womankind
You are a perfect ten with the perfect tan goddess
Who could sell Evian to a drowning man, honest
Trying to stay sane walking that tight rope
I'm throwing you off the deep end you better pray shit floats
You gave me chills when your mind went Beverly Hills
made cleverly deals, and now you think you Brooke Shields
Hated my foes, now you one of they one a day hoes
Used to search my ass straight for weed I smoked some days before
I'm crazy yo forever goin farther than just screwin em
Making me feel like Joseph and Mary's hoein in Jerusalem
Abusin em is how they wanna be treated they nosy too
Should I just slap em like my brother Mike told me to
You just a tease and you play like I'm not in your league
Capturing my mind claiming I'm your biggest fantasy
I'm unattachin, what think you can despise me
If I couldn't hear your words and only judge you by your actions
Your love is sorcery, drowning in emotion poisoning me
unfortunately your memory is haunting me
I'm feeling pains, that I can't even describe
But if I had to, bitch you fuckin buried me alive
Your love counterattacks, unrealistic terroristic acts
Like the Oklahoma Federal Building I collapse
I want her back, but I know that I can't force her
Thinkin bout takin my own life like Marlon Brando's daughter

I'm back in town, stoppin it, makin perogative home
She too far gone, provactive as Sharon Stone
I'm feeling crucified by the very nails I
Made and drove into myself, passed to the next guy
Phones ringin in the middle of the night (Who's that? Nobody?)
Your whole game is getting mad sloppy
Meanwhile in my hotel lobby my hobby is removing groupies off my body
It's getting cloudy, smoggy, visibility low, foggy
Four and a half years, I screwed up once
But this ain't your first time, don't be a dummy
You got champagne tastes with fuckin beer money
Fearing bummy we had ups and downs but managed
Now the going gets rough, look how you vanished
It proves that life is a comedian like Martin Short
You standin next to me I wanna file a missing child report
To find the girl who always planned we'd run away together
Pray together had a child and swore we'd stay together
You had your chance shoulda been nice
your game is deader than Vincent Price
Giving up your ass like you Heidi Floess
Fuck your pink cop crossing guard obsession
You're half-dressed looking like a Soul Train scrambable contestant
(bitch)
In my arena, should I fight or just leave her
Catch amenesia it's enough to make me catch a seizure
Catch a breather, Shane do you even need her
Should I take the three-eighty and assassinate her like Selena?

Yesterday I seen someone who looked just like you
She walked like you do, so I thought it was you
But then she turned around confusing me
Babyface couldn't bring no cool in me
No Love Connection channel five no Chuck Woolery
Us growing old together is what I envision
You dealing with him, but let's not make no haste decision
The mechanism is getting rusty, you won't trust me
You claim when I blow up I'll leave you for some model tall and busty
I can't believe you placed this cock above me wrong
I know you like a book but I just cannot find what page you're on
Now you put you in the middle, your voice is just a riddle
Say you want me back then change your personality like Cybill
How hard I try, I just cry more
With no reason to live, many to die for
Now as I sit in a smoky bar the night about to end
I'm passing time with strangers but this bottle is my only friend
Across the room I see a couple with no cares at all
Hugged up kissing reminding me of us before our fall
High so full of hope and passion looking at her man
The way you used to look at me when I just held your hand
You gave me vast pain, to live in the fast lane
I caught the last plane, to give you my last name
I'm caught up, my family come first, that's how I'm brought up
This tragedy's worse, than one I coulda thought up
The couple stood up, I'm feeling drugged like I took Mescaline
The couple I've been watching all the time it was her and him...

I don't know how I fell asleep so fast. I was in a cell with a man I knew nothing about. He asked me no questions, I told him no lies. When he did talk, what he had to say was always worth hearing. There was something comforting about his last words to me before I dozed off.... 'Don't worry little man, I won't be fucking you tonight.' That might not do it for you, but it worked wonders to ease my nerves.

True to his word, he woke me up for chow. Not that he had to. There's something about the sound of 100 or more cells being 'popped' open at the same time that could wake the dead. Waiting for my celly to show me the way I ended up missing chow. He wasn't hungry. But there was another problem. I had just been the victim of a robbery. It would appear that someone needed my sneakers more than I did. Damn!

I was faced with a dilemma. Without shoes, you can't leave your cell. Since I had just gotten there, I didn't have a backup pair of shoes, or shower shoes to wear. Basically, I was stuck in my cell. I could see who had my sneakers. But since I came in with them, they didn't have that 6 digit number on them to identify them as mine. Once again my celly spoke. 'I ain't havin' those young punks runnin' up in my house. And I ain't livin' with no pussy. Pussy gets fucked around these parts.' The man had an undeniable way with words. Seeing as I still looked pretty lost, he tried to help me. He gave me a lock, and a sock. Once again, I decided to learn fast.

The cells were popped again after chow to let everyone back into their houses. I waited in my cell and looked at everyone's feet. When I saw my sneakers it was on! With no preamble, no warning or nothing I started beating the shit out of the person who was wearing my sneakers. I got about 10 hits on him before anyone realized what was happening. That's when all hell broke loose. There were people yelling, whistles being blown, dogs barking. I never heard all that. All I could hear was the dull thud of the lock hitting him. When he stopped moving, I took what was mine and went to my cell.

A few minutes later, a couple of guards came to get me. My actions had done a few things. They got me my sneakers back. They had also gotten the attention of a group called the Latin Kings. Turns out, the guy I beat down was one of them. For my own safety, I was placed in protective custody. Great!

30 days later the problem was still there. You don't have a whole lot to do in prison, so holding grudges Was a popular way to pass the time. It looked like I was going to catch a break. Being a Latin King, there were rules that he had to live by outside of the prisons rules. One of them was, no stealing. Stealing is frowned upon, and should only be done when necessary, with permission. He had no permission, and therefore was in violation of their code or something. This was good news. It meant that the Latin Kings wouldn't be coming after me as a group. It didn't mean that he wouldn't be coming after me as an individual. I was told to seek him out during recreation. We could settle our differences there, like men.

It took forever for rec time to come. Remembering the 'pussy gets fucked' conversation I had with my celly, I decided I wasn't going to back out of this one. I couldn't. Once you start running, you have to keep running. I don't know if that's true or not, but it's what I chose to believe.

When I found who I was looking for, he's all I could focus on. He was tall. If I take out his knees, that'll bring him down to an acceptable height. I never saw the two guys creeping up behind me getting ready to grab me. Had it not been for my celly and a friend of his, it would have been lights out for me before I ever knew what happened.

Tall guy had a weapon. I hadn't thought of that. He looked real sure of himself, like he was used to using it. He might even have been good with it. Not for long. He lunged with it. I stepped to the side, grabbed his wrist and shoulder while pushing my chest against his elbow. The sound it made when it broke was very satisfying. The ridgehand to his throat was probably unneccesary. The kick to his groin was just adding insult to injury. Literally. It's good to see my parent's money wasn't going to waste. Those judo classes really came in handy! Before you get all happy for me, this fight sent me back to protective custody for another 60 days.

When I got out this time, I was transferred to a whole different facility. At this point, I don't know who they were protecting. Me or him. I left Somers prison with three things. My manhood in tact. My sneakers. And a reputation. Turns out, Tall guy was a big deal in his organization. My fight with him was fair. A kite was sent to where I was going. It got there before I did. It stated simply, don't mess with him. The charges for my fights got me an additionsl 3 years added to my 7 year sentence. Damn I must have liked those sneakers.