Sunday, September 24, 2006

Dead Man Walking

I hate this feeling; I hate its source; and I hate myself for allowing it to persist. Life is the most precious gift of all; born of passion. But what darkness that compels me to give it away; whether abruptly, or the slow sting of this curse, compassion for my enemy, where there is none for me. Who shall nourish a lonely heart; that while this skeleton possesses meat, my enemies shall feast. She tells me that I can do this. But the spirit is a heavy price to pay; that I shall gain what at the price of my life? Then when it is finally over; when there is no more meat to be taken; will I then rest in peace, or shall my bones also be pulled apart? Heavy eyed; yet I look upwards to my Lord in prayer; then forward towards the mist. Only faith sustains me here; for I feel no love. Now step aside! For this skeleton still has meat!

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Trained Fleas

Resolved to take fate by the throat and shake a living out of her.
-Louisa May Alcott-

Sometimes to follow our dreams we must first wake up. For, the obstacles that bind us in poverty are effective, and sometimes calculated. Like trained fleas, many that live in this culture have learned false boundaries and have since ceased to dream beyond them. Discrimination once served as a stained glass ceiling around our communities. Evil it was; as a boogeyman that comes out in the day; and the residences learned well, where not to tread. Today, after the removal of legal restrictions, though glass ceiling are no longer stained, mental chains remain; sometimes through generations, for some trained fleas teach their young. We must resist and fight back, for the spirit of our lives is at stake.

Saturday, September 16, 2006


In my time, I have found sanctuary in prayer, dreams, and in fantasies. Somewhere between the aisles of my imagination; beyond the sands of distant shores, where there my soul caresses, sinking softly from warm to moist, and slanted sunrays across my chest; amid these shimmering sky-born lights, reflections old and new; amid these lonely days and nights, my fondest thoughts of you. Then, gently receives my gentle touch, my legs, my thighs commit; I softly breathe in heavens mist, and more I long of it. Full lungs of care, the sweetest air, submerge these ancient depths; where warmth shall fade as levels sink, and all our dreams are met. There lies the entrance to hidden caverns, to distant under shores, and sanctuary in ye whom I adore.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Pros of Fear

Clich├ęs such as “The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree,” concerned me greatly as a young boy. Especially that the closer I observed my father as Mr. Hyde, the more convinced I became, that I did not want to follow in his footsteps. I worried that some genetic flaw, out of my control, would one day bring me to crave his addictions, and that I would lose myself forever. In response, I prejudiced myself against the things I feared; vowing never to use nicotine, illicit drugs, or liquor. I believed that each of these things hold the potential to destroy a life. Therefore, that which cannot be repaired should be avoided. Over the years, peer pressure would take many of my friends down a dark path; some never to return. For me however, peer pressure was no match for the fear I had of (1) becoming my father, (2) losing myself, (3) failing in life, or (4) letting myself, and the people that count on me, down. While the apple may not fall far from the tree, it has infinite potential to roll.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

From Where Does it Come?

Whether it is of failure, loneliness, ridicule, harm, disappointment, or the unknown; rare is the soul that has not been touched by fear -of some sort- at some point in its life. Some people are able to rise above it much easier than others. Fear seems to wash over them and simply pass away; while in others, it is absorbed into the very marrow of their bones, where it then drives them to defeat. From where does this fear come? In 2 Timothy 1:7, it was Paul that wrote, “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” Therefore, fear must be an adversary of God’s will.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Breakfast is Served

In this dream, I am holding a rifle and sitting in a tall tree. I am inside a hunting reserve of extinct animals, and looking out at a dinosaur. The dinosaur looks vulnerable, so I choose it as my prey.

Using my rump muscles, I scoot along the branch and then leap out from the tree. Airborne, I began to fly and approach the creature from behind. It does not see me; but it quickens its pace, traveling to the far side of the lake. I want to put it down with one shot, so I hover above its head. I then fire a single round into its brain and watch as it crashes to the ground like an elephant on an old National Geographic show.

I then fly to the other side of the lake and watch until I think it was safe. Minutes pass, and I fly back over to the creature and land on a limb that hangs above its head. Its eyes are open; but lifeless; and its body periodically twitches.

Suddenly its nostrils flare. It sniffs the air and life reenters its eyes. In one swift motion, the creature springs to its feet and glares up at me. It has the look of a hungry man looking at a menu. Then, with pure aggression, it leaps at me, thrusting its mouth and bladed teeth through snapping braches. I scoot backwards along the limb; so panic stricken, that I forget that I am able to fly.

I fight vines as the creature violently bits the air, leaves, and branches around me. The sound of its sharp teeth coming together is dizzying, and I try shooting it once more. This time my bullets only bounce off its hard head, infuriating it even more.

Just as I run out of limb, I look across the lake and see the entrance of the reserve. The gate is tall and heavy, standing over thirty feet high. I jump from the limb and begin to fly towards the gate. The dinosaur chases wildly after me, knocking down small tress along the way.

By the time I reach the gate, the dinosaur is only a short leap and a bite behind me. I tug against the locked gate twice before running out of time. I fly higher and land on a rusted knob that is protruding from the gate, only slightly above the creature’s head-level; so I am sure it can reach me.

The creature then moved underneath me, looking up and sniffing the air as it speaks, “Umm, chocolate coco puffs!” and I am jutted awake.