versions of truth

All we are just pushing versions of our truth? Seeking confirmation from others that we are on to something? It is difficult to deal with the uncertainty so we struggle to seem to certain of something. Are there answers? You see I get that there are determined answers in math in science but so much of life seems lived in the gray. So, in this grey I feel like nothing absolute other than the desire for something absolute. I am absolutely sure that I have no answers. So, at times is seems like life is sitting down with missing puzzle pieces. I do not know what the original picture looked like. Or am I simply the puzzle piece. That it hard to accept because of puzzle piece is simply an object and I feel deeply that I am more than that. However, if we were puzzle pieces it would make sense because of the desire to control others.

I think I was looking for something. Wow, a weird sentence that may lack conciseness but it reflects truth. It reflects the my journey. The search for something to interrupt the mundane. To feel something even if it flees before it presence becomes normal. I search for so many things in the midst of so many distractions. But to grasp that which is real is the goal. I crave that which is authentic in a land of fabrication. Maybe, I am the phony? Have I truly grasp anything that I truly wanted or have I simply settled for that which has found its way into my arms.

suffer

Why do people suffer? I am not sure there is an answer for that. At least not one that soothes my soul. It seems to manifest on every corner as people have ended up in places of pain. I can't justify pain. So, I am not content with personal choices and accountability being the hallmark of why things work for me and maybe not for others. There is nothing special about me. It is precisely this myth that allows for me to sleep through the pain emanated from street corners .

craziness

There is craziness in that cleaned up spills still leave the residue of stains. Some stains remain ingrained in the fibers. With every fiber I struggle to remain hopeful. Hoping that eternal tales of a better life are not more lies that serves as a subsitute for present day change.

conquered land

It is difficult to live on someone Else's soil. You see at times it feels like blackness is forever homeless. Are we doomed to be nomads? I crave soil that feels familiar, that loves me. Am worthy to be loved? Or will the stories I have been told about blackness confine me? It can be so confining looking for free territory in conquered lands. As those lands are littered with the landmines of indifference. Even the language of god seems to be filtered through white ink and as it dries on my backdrop the question becomes how could I not love them? How could not covet their privilege? How could whiteness not become the dominant themes that set the tone for what I define as acceptable?

Silence

Damn! Who knew that silent words could be louder than uncontrolled screams? As silence has become the drug of choice for those addicted to the narcotic of cowardice. Silence is the new politically correct and indifference and apathy are the tunes that shuffle through our Ipods. I pause, and crave a time when silence was not so cultivated. When people words were formulated to ferment revolution not navigate and nurture their narcissism. Damn, when did silence become fashionably attire? More importantly when will the season change? When will voices rise in unison to detest the course we have taken? When will voices be used as more than instruments that trumpet I? I wonder, there is no self-righteousness in my tone. I feel like I am just tone-deaf because I am tired of the silent tracks that dominant the American Playlist.

When did we become Enemies?

It seems that, as time goes by, women and men have become more adversarial in their relationship. I am simply questioning, "when did the shift happen?" When did it become a percieved battle between the sexes as opposed to a collective struggle for equality? We have been asleep at the wheel and allowed for destructive ideologies to enter our communities. Ideologies take us away from each other and interject us with a bitterness towards each other. It is no wonder that relationships seem to be a thing of the past. Along with the idea of a good man or woman, or simply the notions of the simple.

Exit signs

It is sad that our comically short attention spans cannot span the length of a commercially As commercially created conflicts confine us from the truth. What is the truth? The truth is that we seem to be asleep at the wheel as we drive towards destruction. The question is are we to drunk off ignorance to be given keys to drive. I would love to see us drive towards freedom but at times I feel like a backseat driver unable to divert the reckless course capitalistically approved designated drivers. Where are the exit signs on the freeways of oppression? Or are we simply forced to play the role of spaced out children who do not wake up until the car stops? When will the car stop? When we need vehicles be built that can transport us to happier times. I long for those days. Let's Get Free!