What The Carter’s Black Effect did, was remind me that I fight daily for a cause heavily rooted from a misunderstanding of people. Don’t call the kettle black here, because that idea is just my understanding of people. Check mate or naw? In War With GOD I, my fight was with my thoughts. In War For GOD II, the fight was with my past respect for women. I was hesitant to use ‘GOD’ in these titles, but I did. I was also hesitant to use said Chess reference, because I don’t know how to play it. Although what I fight for is reflective of a quiet storm in mind, it’s the gift and curse of the black effect. Now I too, am left puzzled by said writings.
November 16, 2018
In War With GOD I: In Black, you read about the two dark episodes of my past. My floatation tank experience, and for the other, I trust is subtle enough in between, because why else would I have come clean?
She’s a really good girl and all that good stuff…
I promised readers a conclusion. By a degree of gratitude to avoid any confusion. Through my dark times in life, I rose with them. As no different than my brightest times in life, I fell with them.
Either way, it was my decision. Nearly leading me dead or in prison. The GODDESS Kali was the synergy when ego went too far. Like Tupac far? No, Thugee type far. Loot the enemy like far.
I mentioned three years of those love letters, it could’ve been five. I’m just grateful I’m still alive. Because the first time I heard these kids wore crowns over here, everything wasn’t alright.
I didn’t think I’d see my uncle James again over by Pike.
But it was Tchaikovsky v Drake last week at the Schnitzer where I last heard these kids wore crowns over here. So, you’d think, I thought, I’d live forever in the alright. You’d also think the mezzanine’s worth the view for an extra few.
I had nice views from my 19th floor hotel room window downtown Toronto last April 2018. But even better views from my seat at the Metro Toronto Convention Centre, watching Mama Pasiyio speak about how many hours a day it takes the women of her tribe in Narok County (Kenya), to retrieve clean water for their people in the village.
This is from a source not often clean, but they walk it daily for their people’s well-being.
I left Toronto fulfilled. Closing on my first home five days after returning, I took off from Pearson International fueled and yearning. By a village woman speaking her world to a large conference hall full of upper-middle class citizens of North America, my perception of village rock transpired, how dare we fuss.
Talk about great views in perspective, who else among those conference attendees felt her blessing? Like an ambassador of the world, marking her story upon Canadians to implore.
Synergy, the process of maintaining it is balance and ord. When granted perceptive, you decide if you’re a part of the process or order.
Did I watch too much Law and Order? It did me right in the tank as I cosmically explored.
I often interrupted myself during the experience because the thought of Kali either symbolized a spider, or my humorous tone after reading my old love letters.
I’m not referring to letters written to females, but life….
Even though we ended up at Tchaikovsky v Drake last week, I still circle back on my layers of love if they ever existed. And how the Caucasian kids first sat in our seats up top for our views; they had to move because they didn’t pay the extra few.
From the days I hid being mentally sick, I write to you persevering through wounds I lick.
Exploring today where I publicly jam to my soundtrack’s hits.
I admired the mornings as a child but became afraid of the dark after losing balance and shit…. Structure! The dark however, was just my imagination in clutter.
After she first shined as bright as I thought my father would be smiling for after seeing him last with open eyes, he left.
…behind in smoke a boy inspired by his dad, but dad, I won’t be teaching what you believed for every man to get blessed.
I know, all you wanted was to lead, influence, and do what’s right by people in your best nature.
In his best nature, a once abandoned young boy who they hesitated to bring into this world, was early by GOD’s nature. To become my protector by favor.
And so, as she shined so bright in the dark, at the bar, we ended up speaking of similar childhood dreams we once had in the dark.
We spoke volumes of our worlds. I first misunderstood her words. And then, I misunderstood her world.
But that’s okay in the worlds of synergy. Soon we emotionally connected after finding value in each other’s world. Through our words, love was first comfort and respect, compared to my past crimes of just loving the sex.
The same way an individual can make you laugh, they’ll expose your tears. The anxiety of not knowing, is the same anxiety as knowing. Because after my first couple attempts to end my love for life, I wrote about it. Years later, I wrote about it again. In the meantime, I had a couple women remind me what the words in those journals meant.
So I ran.
….far and hard up the Mt Zion of dopamine to a higher meaning, forgetting about the before me.
What was I running from? Well, when I meet people they remind me how far I’ve come.
In my world, it’s because of you. But I blame my smile too.
A smile driven by emotions, energy in motion driven by a spirit.
Catching me in traffic, I’m typically driven by my BMW sprintin’…
The same spirit that drives me today, is the same spirit pulling me away from the nail that one day.
It was scary. But again, I ran miles up a hill for the same pain, physical and mental exhaustion. If you read wheels down, back then there wasn’t a landing strip. Instead there was a cliff….
Where I’d jump and fall through the layers of love….
I share this for each reader, who are a part of the communities that molded me, organizations that involved me, institutions that helped me, corporations that employed me, and the people who know me.
I forgot Church. Shout out to church.
Last weekend in Seattle, I saw my uncle James for the first time in nearly two decades. I saw a light in his eyes, fulfilling like a childhood dream of mines.
And if you knew his story… The last I saw him, this was all a childhood dream of glory.
But despite him never knowing how close I once came with a knife, he was happy for how well I’ve done in life.
I can remember his reaction, he goes, “you’re a writer now...?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I’m freelancing through layers of my past. Rewriting the Joe inspiration, yeah, right, congrats! For now, the planning is all I can do; affirm who I am, and speak my true being‘s glam. My body you experience was givin’ by those before me, including you uncle James. Because I’m also here to tell your story. This journey, too, is a gift. I embody it and it’s like cocaine. Passion is a hell of a drug. Can you feel me right now dreaming my love…?”
What’s written in italics I didn’t say to him. Because unfolding each layer of love is about experiencing people unconditionally. I’ve said enough so I’ll end this intentionally.
Like unions, we unfold. Delusional as we find there’s no core to scold. We’re a pattern if truth be told.
Puzzled at the views I showed?
Not everyone can look directly into the black effect’s glow.. 🙂