in sports news...

Illinois just ended Wisconsin's 38 home game win streak to improve to 20-0 on the season, their best start in the 100 year history of the school.

The Patriots will play the Eagles in Super Bowl XXXIX on Feb. 6. I stand behind my belief that the Eagles will win, despite the Patriots being 34-4 in their last 38 games, having two-time Superbowl MVP, Tom Brady at the helm, despite being favorites to win. I believe it is Philly's year to put the cheese on the steak, so to speak.

The Wizards are 10 games above .500 and have surpassed many people's expectations for them. They beat a very good Phoenix team on the road a few days ago.

John Thompson III, son of the legendary coach John Thompson, in his first season with the Georgetown Hoyas has them at a healthy 12-5 (4-2 in the conference) and they just won their second straight conference game against St. John's, tonight. They beat Notre Dame with a dunk at the buzzer a few days ago.

Maryland sucks right now, being handled at home by a recovering NC State team that had just lost to a great Duke basketball team. They fall to 11-6 (2-4 in the conference). time to step it up.

an apartment in chelsea...

i'm assuming the nytimes article that was sent to me by mr. johnson was referring to the chelsea neighborhood on the lower west side of manhattan...a swanky area indeed, if i do remember correctly ( my memory fails me, i do believe the area i am picturing was soho, but really it doesnt matter)...anyway, that was not the focus of the article but i tend to get caught up on things like this because it is my dream for the near future to be a mulling, brooding, successful artist of the written word in the big apple. this seems so far away for many reasons, one being my depleted sense of confidence in my writing (ok, so i've never been that confident), my lack of motivation and this unemployment issue. so much shit is hanging over my head right now. i find it difficult not to move into the fetal position and curse the day away through angry tears; angry at myself for seeing the passion and excitement that lies ahead of me, but having no clear idea of how to move toward such a fate. in times like these, my dad would tell me to pray on it.

on a lighter note...i've decided to start another blog specifically for my poetry. i write a new piece every other day i would estimate, so i think that my creative writing deserves its own domain. it will be under blogspot most likely and it will allow me to begin to organize my work at least in a timeline fashion...a chronicle of progress or something of the sort.

i am also thinking of another spin-off blog dedicated to my "love" life as it were, will be, never was...a tell-all feel to my interactions with women. of course this would be a somewhat anonymous blog, allowing for more thorough disclosure throughout the entries.

there is a need for rest and a need to wake up in the morning. the week is new.

a simple thing

the anatomy of a word--
love, backwards evol

recently

seen in a leroi jones
poem. i write with heart

and bleed the intangible
(feeling)

thinking my hairs standing
on edge
are reason enough to trade
two truths-- lonely

and dull (my mind)--
for one lie...

the simple things
don't matter to me,

like a postponed reply
from my muse or the need
to feel warm lips
in the midst of january cold.

the memory of emptiness
is embarassing, even more
that no one is watching

my hands mold a companion
out of thin air.

the simplest thing--
a green light changing
from yellow to red,

i go from there to
meet a simple end
in the intersection
of a forgotten stanza,

where the bones of
a word are buried,
where nothing said
is too much to hear,

a would-be death
to remember.

dreaming of mlk dreaming the great dream.

who knew dreams were for the waking,
who knew dreams were awakening,
who knew dreams were awakened,
he who knew light was for the taking.

and we need not be sleep to dream,
and we need not sleep to dream,
and we need not dream the same dream,
our dream should be new for time coming.

i will not wear the mask
i will not mask the pain,
i will not hurt to tell,
the dream deferred, the dream that failed.

awakened: awakening: a dream that lives
as spirits do for all souls
for the wayward, for the true.

he who lives in the past the present and the future
dreams one, dreams all before color before creed

we should shall must stand together, stand tall
to dream the greater dream,to dream again, forever

car accident

last night i made a left turn into a taxicab on its way up north capitol st. i let one car go past before turning, thinking the coast was clear but apparently it wasn't. I should have taken a closer look. One of the passengers in the cab said the guy was going way too fast, but it really doesnt matter how fast he was going...i should not have turned unless the coast was totally clear. anyway, i got a ticket for 25$ (the cop on the scene was very nice, telling me to always appeal in situations like these b/c at the least any points given to your license will be dropped, even the fine may be decreased). I guess in the end the most important thing is that no one was injured. It really did happen in slow motion. I always heard people mentioning that after accidents...now i can co-sign that sentiment.

After 15 years the volvo, recently dubbed the "wonder wagon" by my brother and his boys, is out of commission. more importantly, my driving is now controlled by my parents allowance of the keys to their car. this brings me back to having no money and desperately needing a job. i really needed a cigarette today after driving across town to get a check that was mailed to me. i haven't smoked yet today but i'm sure i will later. anyway, enough ranting, my life is not exciting or interesting enough for two paragraphs. i fault no one for closing my blog before reaching the end of this pathetic entry.

lethargy

i probably have the least amount of energy i've ever had in my life right now. i am not starting the new year off right...nurturing the same habits, nearly embracing new ones and as dazed and confused as an odb rant (r.i.p.). my first real assignment for the Washington Informer is tonight so i guess i need to be awake for that. More on the event later tonight. For all those who are reading my blog, let's have a big sunday morning hug :)

usc big time!

no, i'm not a fan of USC but i was on their side in this game, the game that should have occurred last season (though some would argue for LSU v. USC). They handed Oklahoma their second national championship loss in a row. It's funny because all the commentators pretty much thought the Sooners had it locked up. I honestly wanted to see a close game but a blowout ensued quickly. Congratulations Trojans. You deserve it.

2005 BCS National Championship Game- FedEx Orange Bowl
USC 55, OU 19

poem.

i listen to the night's incessant call-- the siren, the wind, the ticking clock.
time waits for no one, not even me--
i feel it running out the door like a love gone sour,
never to return, never looking back
at all the pieces it dropped along the way--

i call them memories.

new year.

happy new years and all that good stuff...'05 is a ? just like every other year, just the way it should be hopefully positivity behind tomorrow's door. shake rattle and roll myself into the prosperity waiting for me. be merry.

jokes on me, pt. 2

ok, so i admit i'm not qualified...no background in law, political theory or otherwise but damn this must be the most frustrating time of my life...well, save sophomore year of college but eh, that is the past, and after this post, so be this disappointment.

the joke is on me.

The ideal candidate will be a recent graduate with a B.A. or B.S. in the social sciences (excluding psychology), political science, or related fields. A background in law, political theory, international relations, or American history is preferred. Minimum GPA of 3.3 is required. Must have strong, demonstrated writing skills. Previous experience in conducting research for a professor and writing/editing experience are desirable. Must be able to work independently on multiple projects. Candidates with an M.A. are encouraged to apply as well.

i think i shall apply anyway,
and today happens to be the last day for applications.
writing/research/editing position for a community outreach program.

why excluding psychology?

burn the christmas tree

there will be no mistletoe
sponsored by mastercard,

no diamond forever or
secret santa stuffing stockings

by fireplace burning the cold
of outside to ash while drinking coca-cola

with polar bears.
--

the doors of the mall are closed,
last day of liquidation of the entire

market was yesterday, while the
world was sleeping on serta sofas

watching a plasma tv hanging from a chandelier,
ears plugged, dreaming to ipod staccato--

the latest punk riff rip-off from the late great jimi.
--

there will be no hi-definition instant replay
concussion, no bud light game-time decision,

thrown chairs and sucker punches have left
the building along with the fat lady,

the bars are closed, no ten-cent wings,
no table-top dancing drunk off cosmopolitans,
high on ego.
--
burn the christmas tree.

leave the angel.

ask forgiveness.

listen to family.

remember the year.

pray for progress.

search for reason, never take handouts.

there's more behind the blinking lights.

be merry.

the golden room...

is filled with family. we've been here before, thanking the Creator for not only the happy moments but for the painful ones that reminded us of how important family truly is. there were opinions, tears, and gifts, and laughter, and hugs and kisses exchanged through testimony, dialogue, argument. the golden room is where the heart is never large enough, where the mere presence of family can lift one's spirit, can restore hope, in even the most dismal times. i am thankful for my family on this day, on the presence of my brother Brandon, who i went up to philly to get from haverford on friday. i'm thankful for the support of my parents in my transitional period (from boy to man...no, i'm not there yet). I love my little brother Richard and must work toward helping to instill a love for knowledge in him--to embrace challenges. the golden room is open-air, all are welcome to walk through the doors, there is a lot of love to be given, to be shared.


--

drama has a way of creating itself right before your eyes. i need to walk away from it.

--

waking up before the sun...

seems almost unreal, not quite all there the world is new totally, the day wide-open to possibility.

and then, as the light rises priority replaces pondering, possibility is replaced by responsibility. the day owns you and to know it, well knowing it is what makes it difficult to leave the bed.

that's what i felt today.
it's what i feel anytime i beat the sun to my computer.
it's all the excitement a post-grad drifter can
hope for.

a day in the life

...of someone else would be nice. i wonder if they would do drugs. what if they died the one day i occupied there body. would i die too? so yeah i'm pondering words as usual, thinking about the significance of taking this job opportunity before me (Nielsen Media Research). I feel the need to cry a lot lately. I feel emotional investment in every passer-by. Is this the soul of an artist. I need to purge, so purge, i will.

I spoke to my first love about a week ago. She told me she was mad at me. See, she's getting married next year, but not to me. Apparently, the "idea" of us is still fresh in her mind and for this reason I doubt I will be able to go to the wedding, although I want to. I mean she was the one for a long time. Granted we were young, but the feelings were real. I still care about her deeply, even though I hadn't spoken to her in more than a year. Her call was unexpected but needed. She is ok and that makes me feel good.

I've felt for a long time now that 24 hours is just not enough time. nope. not enough at all.

maybe the person's body i would inhabit would have a job. i could make money and smuggle it back to my hands in my own body, then i would have money. yeah, that could work. i think.?

two poems

Cyclic Karma

Audience:

The y-shaped entry
To paradise allows
For a man’s ego
To be attached to panty
lines,
For desire to grow
Out of another man’s misfortune
(i.e. she leaves him for me)

(i am a shepherd of karmic retribution)

Victim:

You are
Nothing more than
A reminder of my shadow,
How I come and go
With the sun—
Not even laying my head
Down to rest upon your
Open heart.

This is why I am here—
To leave you.

--

After Everclear

The party was a blue-cup shenanigan
and my dance was one of spectacle,
of leaning back and waving my arms
from side to side, where laughter was
not my friend.

intoxication allows for one to fall
In love with the moment a woman
Speaks (no matter who ‘she’ is),
with cold fingers
Caressing the inner-arm of expectation—
That the night never ends,
the high never come crashing down
On your head, a hangover
of sorts, where you are asleep
and awake, all at once.

He told me not to fuck with it,
I told me not to fuck with it
And now it fucks with me
Aided by rum, weed and nas’s
Illmatic—dictating whether
I remember anything or everything
And all in-between.

Pissing in front of a mirror,
I know not myself other than
My shaft, erect, flaccid, erect again.
She won’t remember me;
I take the number anyway.
We come to the car to find
A Cracked windshield and I can’t
Stand up, no room between
Me and the floor for anger—

I am not responsible,
The devil made me do it.

conversation, perspective

Jai and I discussed making a more concerted effort to control our perspective on how we view our lives, actively defining one’s outlook is one of the basic steps to not only changing our general disposition toward occurrences, but also shaping that which is real around us. Honestly, this was one of the most fulfilling conversations I’ve had in a while, sparked by Jai’s interest in the scientific basis of existence, sort of an amalgamation of science, religion and theology. I share Jai’s pessimistic view of the state of things, concerning my life as it stands today. There are many endeavors I want to pursue, many goals I’ve set before myself, however, I find it difficult to move forward. The employment process has turned out to be a very frustrating one, and in hindsight, a journey I should have begun months before I graduated from school. In postponing my graduate school aspirations, it becomes even more critical that I maintain focus on where I want to go (where do I want to go?). My dad always says, “Idle minds are the devil’s workshop” and after a long hiatus from pursuing anything worthwhile, I find it increasingly imperative that I remain active, taking advantage of all the connections I garner through letting people know that I am serious about everything, be it poetry, employment, mentorship, etc.

In other news:
I have three poems in mind and I am brainclouding now:

Paid for silence: my perspective of a 14 year old girl being gunned down after requesting to be paid to keep quiet about a murder she witnessed.

The funeral: my feelings about the death of 19 year old Deloren Young, who was killed during Thanksgiving break, apparently over a “beef” a friend of his, had with some men.

Distraction: part fiction attempt to gain a better understanding of my own exploits in the realm of relationships.

…more than enough on my plate. Apparently, the bucknell seminar for younger poets application is due at the end of the month…my cave canem manuscript should be done by mid-january.

What I’m reading:
Hip: A history by John Leland
A thorough historical view of hip’s contents, from minstrel show of the early and mid- 1800s to the beat generation to the lost generation, to gansta rap. Interesting so far, especially the parallels of what is hip and it’s contradictory personality, being mainstream and non-conforming at the same time. I love Leland’s covering of the jazz age, touching on the importance of bebop, the blues and black and white influences on the music, the relational effect of the changing sounds on the musicians (and how they viewed music) and overall society throughout the history of hip.

The Listening: Poems by Kyle Dargan
This third-year graudate student’s first published collection of work. My favorite poem from this collection at the moment is Surrender IV: Muse. More to say about homeboy in the near future.

Wish list:
Pleasure Dome (New and Selected Poems) by Yusef Komunyakaa
Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
How to Be Alone (Essays) by Jonathan Franzen

new questions

so what now? now that i've decided to postpone my graduate education, assuming I was going to get in this time. the extra time allows for another stab at the GRE, about 10 solid months of new writing, searching for a mentor, some much needed work experience, i suppose.

(perchance early recitation understood, she has beautiful eyes)

i'm sick of volunteer work. i feel like i'm in the waiting station between college graduation and actual work of substance, some sort of movement toward career goals. i'm glad i got sick last week, gave me an excuse to stay home and do whatever, do nothing. i'm supposed to call the publisher of the Informer on Wednesday. Hopefully, I can get some sort of position there. Even if it's volunteer at first, I need something new.

(lips, yes, they quiver with every kiss)


i need a music giveaway. give me 500 cds of my choice and that should occupy me for a few months.

i need a smoke. i shall take it in a few.

(i can be your lover, i have enough friends)

yeah, the poetry is writing itself at the moment. keep reading.

blanket

-
i stretch
the thought
of your
kiss across
my bed
and fall
asleep between
your lips.
-

two statements to love...

sun: i would die for you.

storm: i can't find a way to kill myself, so, I must kill you.

right now, i'm somewhere in the middle of storm and sun, or maybe i'm on the outside looking in because of a certain someone or maybe because of a few special people. they are walking around inside this room and every now and again, they come to the window of the door and look out at me, smiling. i want to go in, but the last time i did, i had to be carried out by my own heart, which was almost stoned to death. i don't believe my body would have survived without the heart's help. my heart is a resilient muthafucker.