colours...

white wine
black books
kind of blue
reminiscent of
summer brown
life much like hair
is an exercise of
dealing with greys
chasing
monochrome dreams
to get out
of the red
til then
i'm green
like envy behind the ears
and not in pockets
found lint
instead of her love
thought repair
was a yellow page
mission
but this purple
is all i got left
thinking damn...
orange would have looked good on her

players

I was at a dilla tribute party last year at a spot deep in queen west and the dj had gone through your "typical" dilla standards and the amazing samples that provided the inspiration. The crew I was with was dropping hints to the dj it was that time, the party was dying down the crowd had filtered and a few loyal supporters were remaining at the bar and a couple tables. dj finally dropped the record, a collective cheer/sigh went up and at that moment, strangers became family, drinks in the air, drunken staggers morphed into rhythmic two-steps, we acknowledged the DJ and stumbled out into the crisp winter night hooded and goosed up… players.

One of my fav things to do is drive or venture on foot or bike around the city while most of it sleeps. Driving slow, as Kanye West once put it, is a practice that meets at the intersection of deep contemplation and casual observation. Driving with no direction down empty lit streets and letting whatever the vibe of the moment be your guide. Players by Slum Village is often the soundtrack for those moments, the subdued, the laid back vibe of nighttime.

We don’t care how or where

we end up there, wherever it may be

no compass or telescope

but finding depth in one word answers

and finding common ground with

exotic dancers

fully clothed

curbside dividing cab fare

stretching a dollar

after stretching for dollars

no discrimination, all colours

lipstick and collars

blue and white speeding thru the red

while we wait for green

posers provide the inspiration

no racing, embracing the slow but steady

save the ready set go for rush hours

There’s power in patience

And patients suffering insomnia

gazing out of window panes

gazing at the caddy in adjacent

lane

gazing at the amazing way

midnight plays the blues

the crew cruises through

smoke stacks and ascends

like wind off the lake

we relate, debate, and laugh it off

drive off solemn in stewardship

players…

two sides of the same coin

certain parameters given to me in a challenge defined the following piece.
read #1, then read #2, then read #1 and probably read #2 again and see if you can figure out what the challenge was.

#1
regrets? no,
but caresses foolishly friction bore fiction
this crumpled paper laid
on
stages winning award
on
parts played
we
embrace this
delayed departure
colours neutral
stained heart
my death approaching
was she love peronsified?

...

#2
personified love?
she was approaching death
my heart stained neutral colours
departure delayed this embrace
we played parts on award winning stages
on laid paper crumpled this fiction
bore friction foolishly
caresses
but no regrets

untitled.

words form like mindstates
barely legible and bound by lines
time heals wounds
and practice makes better penmanship during rush hour
in the interim i'm scribbling and sinking deeper into
a system of off-beat rhythms
finding colour in the monochrome
and searching for love amidst the monotone
dialtones hoped for
but similar to HBO i'm wireless
only secure plan in life is data
they say no man is an island but at times
i'm pondering who's ladder
i'm climbing up
soliders of cross double crossing
got the flock and the shepherd
looking lost caught between jacob and jesus
these days its more than the weather
that changes from season to season keeps us
teething
seething
feeding
needing
breeding
believing

burn...

its the 3rd degree
but no PhD.
looking for a PhD.
while she masters
the mistress
damsel in distress
two tiered
health care
got her
feeling the burn
in pocket
to go with
discomfort
and humidity
worthy of summer time
got that summer shine
lack of melanin
surplus of pain
but nothin some
calamine lotion
and career counseling
cant overcome
student loans
and cell phone
bills
makes that trip
to the salon
a hard one
add to the fact
she can't lean
strapped for cash
and burnt ash
on back
smells like...

slr

a challenge i've accepted this month is to write and post something new everyday. 30 for 30... and i'm already a day late so i'll be needing to make it up down the line.

there is
a beauty
in bokeh
seeing what’s
necessary
against a shallow
depth of field
that is
until the shallow
depth of field
is solitary
on stage
so light and dark
hues tints and shadows
all exist
away from
best focus
the beginning
of
the slip and loss
of grip
on one's locus
missteps
occur
this is where
starting
to fade
can't be fixed by
potions or lotions
hopeless as the colour
balance is attempted
on soaked coasters
and fallen posters
amid
the creases
and pieces
the
natural
way
to
sepia
is
discovered
mesmerizing are the melancholy
viewing image history
and seeing
how things went from
untouched
to photoshopped
to shopping parts
and hearts
on the open market
left tryin to
viewfind self
stealthily through
turning points
and after thoughts
after much thought
and poignant conversation
preservation was best
left as a task for self
it appears
we are highlighted
by the wealth
of errors crystallized
in the moonlight
its nights like this
where my aperture work
is more miss than hit
and i question how
the composition
went from symphonies
of bliss
to scattered riffs
so I’m learning
to live
through
transition
from the
point and shoot
and smile style
to the intricate
narrative of a
single lens
reflective