Spirit

Who would’ve known as a grown man, I’d still be that lost boy fogging the glass with his breath?
Then placing his hand there, leaning back observing that moment of art, as a symbolic thought crosses his mind, wondering…
if he’ll be able to touch the world enough one day to where his print is left behind…
ha!
left behind…
somehow poignantly funny, because being left behind is another thought he felt so akin to-
as his wrist hovered adjacent to the horizontal window PANE
straight across he thought, mirroring the same structure that carved horizontal lines that once broke his resolve and enhanced his curiosity while biting into his wrist-
penetrating that thin line of shallowness he revered as his surface, which he clung so tight to-
because he felt no one could feel his PAIN..
no one but this window PANE
yes, the window did-
for it sees all and stays silent, transparent and non-judging-
the greatest attributes in a best friend
he wondered how could something be so quietly comforting and loyal, yet easily crack and shatter under pressure
showing vulnerability at the first signs of discomfort
innocently divulging a truth of some kind imparted by the force it became victim to-
that force, became measured by shards of glass looking back up at him
and somehow he felt the pain inflicted upon it
a traumatizing act, because when glass is broken, there’s some impossible feeling of guilt and empathy that takes over us
but is that sorrow for the glass, or the broken person he sees in it?
or maybe the ensuing eyes that peer questioningly, overwhelming his consciousness with the torment of perceived judgement
he stands shooken and found out, feeling almost naked so-to-speak
if only for a moment
those pervading voices breech and surround his senses, though it’s all in his mind
often times that man was I..
I, that broke that glass
that broke that one stable friendship and bond that accepted me blindly conditionless and willingly
within its shattered pieces, I saw a man of many different faces
don’t we all?
It’s crazy to think, but selfishly everything serves a purpose, and you know glass never let me down
sometimes it showed me raw truth and reflective bits of myself on the outside looking in,
or at least what I wanted to see
and other times, a distorted or prismed perspective of the world outside of my own unobstructed view-
often given me a sight and thought that I wasn’t able to conceive or digest prior to peering through the eye of that glass
after indulging my pallet and gullet in a foreplay with spirits-the fluidity of that temporary serum it bared within so purposefully, satiated my emptiness
again…everything serves a purpose
yes, glass came in many shapes, it molds to the needs of its environment like me
and it’s our environment we seek most to control or fall in line with,
and the environment of the glass I had in my possession was a control that sometimes gets the better of me
And often as I look through it, peeking through its crystal like specs-
I may not always see my prints, but I know they are there,
for I touched it with such a purpose,
and if only for that moment…at least in my own way, I touched the world,
yes, I touched the WORLD!
and within that connection, that touch, that purpose
something was left behind
my print
because I touched the world
maybe you’ll notice..

Realist

The term rings off real sure, but to me it is lacking. Wisdom is knowing that you don’t know enough or everything. One can always inform themselves with other insights and perceptual beliefs. To me a realist is stunted in knowledge and growth, a realist is a trap and/or a bail out word. For example, being a realist, or pragmatic, is simply thinking with all the information in front of you to make a safe yet narrow-minded opinion. Having a felony will follow me around all my life limiting my possibilities. True but not, that is the trapping side, the bail out side of being a realist is that it relieves the responsibility of embracing the metaphysical aspects of life, like love, faith, hope, imagination etc. Two hemispheres in our brain, left and right, you don’t use that left side of your brain when you are a realist, you see things as separate and distinguishable from one another in that they are opposites, one can’t exist at the same time of the other, because opposites contrast instead of compliment. Now there’s no room for paradox and possibility with right brain thinking. The left side is for creativity and abstract continuity, unity and likeness of all things, the right side is for pragmatic and the concrete disposition of things, the separation and opposites so to speak. If you see things as flat as ratios, percentages, facts, numbers and statistics, then naturally you will view people, possibility and chance as such. This type of thinking is so limiting within self and onto others. I become and amount to nothing more than a statistic after a downfall, with only a minute chance of over coming your objective opinion. Being a realist is a virtualistic compromisation and a perceptual scapegoat, why can’t a person view themselves and others beyond the pan of either this or that. No, indeed there is a middle, an in between route, a combining force that is manifested by belief. Eyes can betray us just as the heart and mind can, so seeing doesn’t have to be the end all be all for truly believing, because that isn’t believing, it is surficially or circumstantially knowing of something by its exterior, while neglecting its internal layers. Just think, if all felons decided to be realists, then there’d be no need for hope by changing self if we all conceded to this mass perception of impending doom for all opportunity, rebellion and anarchy would be a constant because what does an animal have to lose once its caged doors are open all the while knowing he will return to captivity soon enough? I was a realist, til I realized I was dying faster that way. Once I began to step back and notice the abstract beauties and metaphysical wonders of and in life, I began to have hope and slowly I began to come alive and started to live again. So I’m no realist, I’m not jaded, I may be taboo and tainted, but I am a hopeful optimistic romantic within my thinking, seeking symmetry and synchronicity with life, not apart from it. But what I wonder is how much more would I be able to accomplish if you thought this way too, because it used to be I, myself that limited my life, but now it could be you. Be a left sided, not lop-sided, thinker, even if you have right wing views, be idealistic and take the time to create your own beliefs, even if seeing things for what they appear to be seems so much more convenient. Take that time and use your mind and choose to see more. Being narrow-minded is a choice, being a separatist is inhumane, and being a realistic is cheap and easy and has no imprint of originality. Facts, I’m a black imprisoned father of two sons with a few violent felonies. In that line, read more than facts and a statistic, and see that there is a person with more depth than the sentence alludes to, but understand that it will take more effort understanding that as fact then accepting the short sentence in itself as truth and all there is to know. What’s a record if it’s broken? What’s statistic if it is defied? What is a ratio if the numbers flip? What is a percentage if it rises or decreases? What is a number if it changes? What is a fact if it is disproved? Make room for possibility, no matter how sensibly impossible it may seem, and see more even when your eyes can’t see it tangibly, at that moment, develop faith, because then you get to enjoy the ride of imagination and hope. We manifest our own destiny by our thought patterns. Be thoughtful and thought provoking, see things for what they appear and then imagine what more they could be, then see that to fruition. You may just find enough room to free me from your narrow sights, just as I have freed myself and others that I come across. Thinking you know it all is not thinking at all, so what more is life if you stop seeking, if you stop believing you have more to learn, if you refuse to see all reflective sides of a prism while only concentrating on the side that faces you? So today, can you start believing an inmate can be more than a number, and that he can conquest, accomplish and create unimpeded by apparent realism? Will only denied the person that ceased to try. We have to change the narratives and connotations, if not simply just recognizing them and their weight, on certain terms and words, and take on deeper meanings so we can establish a sense of self, seeking more in every meaning we reason with. Often we disparage those stuck in physical prisons, while still unaware nor able to free ourselves from our invisible circumstantial and internal prisons which keep us in captivity most of our whole lives. Realistically, there is more to reality than a realist can ever really see, experience is an infinite abundance of realty able to be cohabited once we realize how to perceive and live a real life without unnecessarily imposed limitations. Don’t try to confine that which you can’t comprehend into a small box so you can feel safe. Do more than address, assess in excess for access.