Stuff I Write About

Listen to your inner voice ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ If I may The Devil gotta funny way of keeping the mind so preoccupied that you nev'a getta chance to really - think To really- sink deep down into the core of yourself so much so that you can hear that echo sound when no one else' around you feel yourself reverberate. Fate bounces of the walls of you soul and fills those holes you had your big car, plasma t.v., black card, and designer shoes in. Sometimes when you lose control, you really win. The devil gotta funny way of keeping the mind in a state of static shock keeping us locked and in awe of what we ought and ain't got When we really ought to be glad we got at all Static nev'a changing The Devil is funny that way.

This bout of prose comes out of experience, lessons from a battle that I want to share with anyone struggling with themselves about who they are or what they should do in life. I understand your grief, but I submit to you follow the path of joy and throw out the unknown, when fighting, passion and purpose are bullies they'just double-team you anyway.Date: Anyday Time: 3 O'Clock Place: Passion meets Purpose, After Class When the Real Learning Begins +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Today passion pushed my back up against a wall, while purpose looked on over its shoulder. I cried out, "Enough! You can have my lunch money already. I need to go on a diet anyway."I've been eating too much junk lately.just snacking on whatever would appease my fancy,just to take up time,just to occupy my mind - with things that don't matter much.just so I wouldn't have to hear the quickening of my heart beat when I saw y'all coming.just so I ...

**Just Something to Think About*** Happy Love Month I sit and watch love pass by, behind a giant glass, like sea things in an aquarium. Hoping, wishing, that it will circle back around me so I can get a better glimpse this time. Stretching and craning my neck to get one last view. Then it's gone. Knowing I'll never touch it, bound by this glass, I leave the tips of my fingerprints pressed against its coolness. And my heart yearns. So.. I sit and watch love pass by, behind a giant glass, like sea things in an aquarium. It circles, dips, and dives, not knowing its contained, not remembering what it's like to be free. Quiet and content and oblivious to me. Why won't it look my way? Why won't it take hold of me? Why won't this glass crack like my heart does? So I can jump on love's back and we could ride off on a wave to the sea So I press my face against the glass to listen to sounds of undercurrent circumstance And imagine the impossible. I look up and wonder...