Nigger Free

Posted: December 5, 2018 in Uncategorized

Daaamn! ! ! Just let a brother be, I’m over here minding mines trynna be nigga free. Is dat too much to ask or something you just can’t see.

We both want the world you without niggers and me niggas free. You live in a world filled without care, no concern and all types of liberties/And me, well you see I just wishes to be free. The difference?

In a world where perspective is everything this case is no less/You view me as a big nigger and my dumbass wear the word NIGGA like a crown, badge of honor hanging like a gold chain draped from my shoulders, or fancy necklace/ Hell, some even wear that shit proudly scribbled in big letters right cross their damn chest.

It’s real simple, I view myself as more than you see a divine human being who is quite aware, with many nuances, knowledgeable and very complex/Seeing this leaves you in a quandary, left puzzled, bewildered over wrought, and down right vex.

Allow me a moment. Let me explain. To magnify oir amplify the situation at hand/You first need to know something it’s about this setup, the whole entire getup all put in place by none other than, that’s right, THE mothafuccan MAN.

It’s true in fact. It’s too much if I’m blessed, not enough if I’m stressed the life I lead is consistently put to the test, always having to go hard on some give me liberty or give me death.

I say I’m not guilty but still pushed to confess, but lets address what’s been assessed you need me to lose, need me to be second best, and when I don’t concede, nite nite nigga, lights out, you force my last breath but even with that there’s still no contest and hearing this all kicks up a bunch of fear and history of regrets.

Let me share this, to hold first place is a race to to keep up a hustle trynna keep pace, stay grinding out here there’s no rest for the weary don’t wanna lose face but YES I’m tired of this shit always having to sit patiently I’m told I must wait, my turn done turned over its rolling in its grave

I only got’s one life to live its my life I’m trynna save but no matter how hard or no matter how swift/ I goes to the limits my clutch is burned out so many gears I done shift and sweats I done broke having broken my back trynna shift these odds in my favor while the cards done already been stacked. and all for what I ask you, you guessed it, just to be another nigger wolfing in the mothafuccan pack.

To be Nigga free in America what could that mean? I’m open to all ideas maybe collectively we can all glean. This is more like an exercise not an invite to be seen we should always strive for more be the best that we can be at every turn and every chance not just crabbing in the barrel to be the next H.N.I.C.

Yes we’ve been beaten we’ve been tortured even hanged from tall trees that nightmare alone is enough to wanna be nigga free/Take advantage where you can step up to life’s game beat the rigged system and live up to your God Given name/Embrace the pitfalls and all that’s on the journey there’s so much glory to be gained, but if it ain’t nigga free then it would all be in vain.

See a nigga ain’t a nigga unless called out by name and though through out time we’ve collected on this claim, I extend to my brethren the word nigga should be shamed/

So oblige me if you can we can be nigga free, to keep King’s dream alive lets believe in the moment explore the possibilities. I say do away with this bullshit let’s rewrite the mothafuccan script do away with the mindset set that niggas just ain’t shit.

See a brother ain’t a nigger and neither is a black man, neither replaces the other and on this I must demand. That we have a change of heart and we start to plant this seed that maybe in our lifetime we can all be nigga free…..


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He Said Very Little

Posted: July 31, 2018 in Uncategorized

Very few words ever spilled out his mouth rather were silently written in subtle gestures and mundane actions assumed to be frivolous in nature but were yet another installment added to the volumes of tacit I love yous, I respect you, I am proud all to be found in his untitled anthology.

Silence seemed to be his comfort but might have held him captive to an arsenal of weaponized emotions occasionally falling victim to internal friendly fire. Only if he could have found some modicum of freedom, some freedom of expression, any expression of meaning that gave the rest of us a clue.

Many assumed the worst few assumed the best some just assumed he didn’t care but perhaps it was that he cared beyond any quantifiable measure and he himself found his own emotions insurmountable. As a man of few words, maybe he was trapped in some sort of ironic mental crosswords considering he was a wordsmith but always appeared to be at a loss for words at any given time.

Milestone moments would simply be a beat of time that ticked onward without his involvement beyond his presence as though he was never really there he was just a physical form and his spirit self was off somewhere else having fun on its own.

In conversations my inner Barbara Streisand always kicked in enduring his blank stares that I read as disinterest “Papa can you hear me?” or maybe my Judy Blume voice “Are you there God, it’s me Margaret?” Then thinking may be it wasn’t me. It was probably best to characterize him and anything pertaining to as him being perpetually trapped in a Diana Ross song

Do you know where you’re going to?Do you like the things that life is showing you?Where are you going to? do you know?Do you get what you’re hoping for?When you look behind you there’s no open doorWhat are you hoping for?Do you know?

But how sad was it that the question remained unasked it remained unanswered it remained unexplored. And now all that exists of his remains is a presence of stoic looks forever etched into the canvass of my brain because during his lifetime he said very little.

Unfear Your Tears

Posted: February 10, 2018 in Uncategorized

We are more than our fears, our struggles, the haters and emotions, we are more than our tears so un-fear them.

Dizzy spells from years of a tortured hell welled tears in the corners of my eyes as I saw time fly by asking myself repeatedly but why/ Why must I suffer better yet silently die as I hide deep inside fighting against the myriad of lies trying my best not to ever show emotion especially not cry because eventually over time the pain will subside/ Plus men are called weak if their eyes don’t stay dry. So buried goes our hurt we become emotionally shy because not one single dude wants to ever be known as that guy.
Perched at the rim a drop drips from the brim trickles down my face a start to no end and I feel it all begin/ an anger rages deeper within now a river of saline traps years of failures & wiht very little wins without cause the fear kicks in once again my head starts to uncontrollably spin feeling like I’m all washed up like a whosit, a nobody a pathetic has been the man that never was but is the answer to the riddle, the unspoken or hardly ever asked question, the proverbial missing link, building block notably referred to as the game-changing linchpin.
There I was all caught up in my feelings a manic mess, my scattered and tattered emotions swinging from right to left, feeling sadness no gladness, sacked and depressed, trying to dismiss this sense that I’m overwhelmed and bereft as a black man a victim of human rights theft and in this life that truth generationally, historically suppressed bursting into brief moments of ridiculous jest but regardless of what I stay true to the journey and continue my quest.
Though the spells of dizzy become dizzying ever greater as I struggle to ignore all the simple-minded haters dream takers your basic naysayers the kaleidoscope of race baiters in all their shades and hues some of them Darth Vaders converged become my thoughts opposing pundits and commentators ‘cuz they do for us nothing don’t ya’ll see they’re instigators carbon copies-imitators, seeming down for the cause but are agents of the man plain ol’ infiltrators.
The issue that plagues my people is the masses turn to sheople and what needs to be emphatically stated gets side-swept, devalued & underrated those issues get conflated and there goes my happiness commodified & regulated, commercialized & fabricated, my happiness moderated, berated then truncated, no happiness now I’m feeling broken dispirited & deflated.
All this from a single tear drop I tried to hold back that gave way to the onslaught of an emotional attack my delight of being a proud man known to all as being black the pride giving way to the weight, the stacks of facts so high the damn done broke, I’m crazed like a maniac, I’m not sure but I think my life as I know it’s been culturally hacked I’m anguished &enraged I’m going off script heading off track meandering my way to the truth absolute unbridled truth’s an aphrodisiac.
And as tears flood my face, the flood fills my pores, like a deluge to an arid desert it nourishes my thirsty core, my soul becomes watered my angers washed ashore, all that’s been stolen I’m told there’s still more, my fears now removed & my happiness restored, my emotions in control and the pain is no more so as I live in the struggle building ties of good rapport the torture and the hell I’ll just learn to ignore, I’ll continue to explore be a lion causing uproars, find’n young’ns make them hear me and be their mentor, become a known Griot that writes stories of folklore. See My time has just begun God is opening new doors, and when all’s said and done my credentials stay hardcore but for now I call it quits job done cuz this poem settles the final score!

Not Your Magical Negro!

Posted: October 19, 2017 in Uncategorized

I’m not your Magical Negro… you know the educated one that smiles on cue and makes you feel safe; Not because of my fare skin or proper speech will you give me a pass, a key, full access to open up equality’s gates.

I’m not the Magical Negro! You know the one that says all the right things, makes the right moves always on the right side of the law, the one that forgets the injustice of the Man’s hand as the overseeing officer takes a nightstick, his fists, or presses a gun’s nozzle up against my clenched jaw.

See I’m not that Magical Negro awaiting your approval be it a nod of the head or a grimacing smirk spreading across your alabaster face as I pass by or approach and your body shifts to the center as you look around to make sure I keep my distance or give a signal that I know and maintain my assigned place.

That on any given day I know that no matter what in any situation, the infraction or how slight the offense you will always be right even when you’re obviously wrong at the end of the day I’ll be proven guilty before not as I cry tears of pain my life barely adding up to a Swan’s song.

Meaning no matter how beautiful I appear, or how civil I behave, or how stellar a performance wherein I’m all society’s rage that one step to the left that’s center of the line that if I don’t stay silent, play nice you might not grant me a life worthy of living to receive my just rewards over the span of a lifetime.

I’m clear that to you my life mean’s little to nothing I just exist for your hatred proof of your ignorance or lack of even the smallest bit of guilt that before you hear my screams of agony you’ll continue your crusade the blatant agenda to erase my presence from the pages of history’s will.

It’s like if history were a person and we were both evenly named to carry out it’s last wishes there’d be no 50/50 nothing to be split better yet you’re to get the bulk of the estate take the lion’s share as I shut my mouth play victim to your evil ways of being devious and malicious.

Think about it for me to be your magical negro I would need to be completely mute, dumber than dumb, and all the way blind, like so blind I’d never see justice for the slain, speak up for myself or learn how to shift the political paradigm.

I’d have to dismiss my ancestor’s contribution, 12 years or underground, the anthology the narrative of a slave, be they the one in the house, or in the field, or those constantly pursuing elusive freedom as they continued trying to runaway.

Like I’m not that Magical Negro designed to be yours finding myself holding hands singing songs of peace laughing at insensitive jokes who turns the other cheek while you rob me of my spirit plotting my death to become less than a reference, not hardly newsworthy, of very little meaning found at the bottom of a page nothing more than a footnote.

See the fact is that while I m not your magical negro not in any shape, way, or form not even a little bit I know I baffle your mind, scramble your brain and appear as an enigma or call it let’s see, let’s call it pure magic to survive as a proud negro, black man, African American performing tricks dodging the barrage the mistreatment, a life you view as unfit horrific quite plainly a life that is tragic.

So just so you know, know that I know, and for the record that you don’t, that whatever the case your needs are beyond the scope of my purpose you’ve been found out caught and brought to a full stop cuz being your magical negro you can bet for damn sure I’m not!

Damn! I Got Feelings Already

Posted: August 5, 2017 in Uncategorized

Her/His eyes searched my soul each time she/he looked in my direction as if gazing into the wonderous universe many galaxies and light years beyond anyone’s existence.
Love was not a word that could yet describe the intensity of desire that I felt each time I was in her/his presence and lust could only cheapen the feeling. I dared not dream nor imagine what it would be to get lost in the safety and comfort of her his embrace/arms.

Sitting near her/him my nerves tingled like wild brushfires as my heart raced uncontrollably becoming flushed with warm pangs of passion. If only she/he could touch me my flesh would melt underneath her/his fingertips. I gasped for air at the mere thought of this hoping to breathe in each breath she/he expelled.
It was undeniable her/his beauty, clearly his looks was made by the gods and praising their creation would become my new obsession. Whet was my appetite and my thirst seemingly unquenching as I began drinking her/him in greedily feeding the fantasy that ran amuck in my mind.

She/He had left me breathless from the first time we met; arrested, shivering inside with seismic tremors, undulating pulses resulting from his vibrational frequency. I could only hope to be rescued from her/his captivating aura, though the damage was already done. It was time to surrender the battle was over, there was nothing left of me to resist.

Her/he was the victor of this unspoken struggle and my silence was the punishment for allowing myself to be tortured by her/his charm. Would it ever be known how I suffered each time shre/he parted her/his rosy lips to speak that I was mesmerized by her/his voice. Was there anything to gain from dropping a crumb of a hint that might lead her/him to the trails of emotions she/he had awakened inside me.

My love would be unrequited and the looks of longing remain unmeasured, she/he would be none the wiser of what she/he stirred within me when I looked back at her/him. She/He would be free from any blame for the broken heartstrings she/he had plucked to nothing. For truly she/ he was guilty of nothing, had comitted no crime, she/he was only the unwitting culprit who had stolen my breath away.

And I, forever trapped by her/his gaze would always be ready, wiiling, and able to receive her/him without hesitation, without barriers, without knowing, if she/he could possibly share the tiniest piece of herself/himself to ever feel the same.

Vestiges of a City Loved

Posted: August 3, 2017 in Uncategorized

The pages of my life turned at each street corner, with every step like a word, every sidewalk like long sentences in a paragraph, every block like a brief chapter, every day a short story lived./ Underneath the dingy, dimly cast street lights I felt the eerie shadows of darkness creeping along side me keeping my lonesome company. In a city of millions being alone was easier than fitting in.

Convinced there was much to be discovered, I set the aimless task of knowing each and every inch of the city’s landscape. Fearlessly seeking the next thrill in search of fuel to feed my restless mind. Train rides became long expeditions that stretched across boroughs like the great ships that sailed the high seas and vast oceans, eager to discover new world’s, every destination promising a hidden treasure above and below ground.

People were but court jesters, something to marvel, be amused by, their presence of little consequence, figures to be captured and frozen in time like an artist’s muse, then dismissed at will as I walked by. I was of the belief that I could do and have whatever I wanted, it was there for the taking and I took plenty. I was a magician using the city and all within as my props, honing my craft of illusion to entertain the masses then vanish into thin air.

Entranced by it all, time stood still wherein the center of the universe was New York City; its sky scraped with architectural wonders that twinkled at night like glowing fireflies. A frenetic energy and pulse palpable even to outsiders, the natives moved through space owning their surroundings like gang members protecting their turf. Each person shuffled about as if moving in tandem to the broken beats of a drummers cadence, flocking to and fro, organized chaos at its best.

Waste littered gutters lined the canyon of buildings greeteing culturally starved tourists who poured into the immoral den of bright lights seeking a thrill of their own, and like an envied society hostess she delivered. An uncertain danger lingered in the air so thick it gripped you by the throat and if that didn’t choke you out the smog and stench was on standby. Sirens blaring abruptly screamed into your ears ripping your attention away then just as sudden trailed off into the distance. It was a symphony of sound that millions of diehards heard as the familiar serenade of home.

A place of legend and second to none it still wasn’t for everyone, but it was the perfect party mix of delights, distractions, and disappointments, should you be a resident or visitor. And whether you were born there, moved there, or just appreciated what was there it offered something tasty for everybody who hungered to sink their teeth into the juicy big apple. To trek these treacherous streets takes heart. Just as easily as you could live your life to the fullest you could just as easily catch your death and no one ever blinked an eye either way. It was either fantasy or reality, dream or nightmare. It was where I thrived, it was where I lived, it was where I loved, and it was where I once called my home.

As I Strive To Be

Posted: November 26, 2014 in Uncategorized
CandlesI AM not what you want but
 more than what you are
 too ignorant to see.
I AM just as you- HUMAN
Striving each day just to be
 
Scarred by leagues for centuries 
Further than my dark skin runs deep
We all know I AM a survivor
Enduring more than most
Can ever conceive or believe
 
Assaulted and maltreated daily
No sight’s end, promise or relief
There’s only concrete evidence
American justice offers nothing
Just a system of never-ending deceit.
 
But through all the verdicts & heartache
Even as precious young
Lay slain viciously
gunned down in HER streets
 
I WILL still stand tall
PROUDLY
Striving each day
Striving just to be
 
O. Wallen 11/26/2014