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 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've digested each experience with gratitude. Here on @vehicledigest.net you'll see what allows me to display my enthusiastic lifestyle. Allowing the words to be my vehicle through creativity, elegance, and wit.