April 7, 2019
If the reach could preach to the world,
We’re in the last fighting days for our girls.
Fought for the falling father; he knew his mother watched.
Up there now watching like she too, a little girl as he thought.
When we don’t want to write, we make up the shit that get us in fright.
A beast to speak.
Rules are for mules, but see me call my muse.
You know I got a fight I can put to use.
Fighting, is not the answer.
See what all the previous fighting got us; thus cancer.
Eating for another anxiety banter.
You’re not reading a negro from the ghetto.
Maybe a negro fighting for the ghetto.
Writing to the ghetto.
Running through the ghetto.
The real ones say, “hello”.
What fine young fello.
Little do they know I’m from a fresh coast.
Better faucet water; thus Oregon’s H20.
NorthWest but when drunk I might claim west coast.
PDX folk think I’m rare.
Oregrown, #AMWriting from here.
Unlikely to be known.
I just watched.
May 2019 book one.
I'm passionate about my story, so I challenge my readers to be as well if they aren't already. I once thought long & hard about the challenges we give ourselves daily, of finding an eternal feeling of joy and abundance. Through inspirational explorations of my past, I attempt to influence others to find theirs. Here on @vehicledigest.net you'll see what allows me to display my enthusiastic lifestyle; whether it be through creativity, elegance, or wit.