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aijalon
Members Posts: 919
Forgive me if I come off just a tad bit arrogant.
It took me a moment to get here.
A journey littered with the carcasses of identities shed; I arose out of the ashes an unrecognizable figure.
Imagine for a moment being the younger brother of a genius; repeatedly reminded of my greatness yet unable to tap into that unlimited potential.
Imagine the pressure of having to be first when third was all you could muster.
Imagine the warm embrace of the neighborhood truant.
Discern the source of my greatest revelation.
Can you stroll with me down memory lane?
Then; maybe only then will you will comprehend just how much it took for me to fall in love with me.
Feel the pulsing heart beat, see the tears run down dusty cheeks; another rejection suffered at the hands of a prepubescent beauty. Ask the questions of yourself just like I did: “Why, how, what more?”
Back muscles strain under the sheer weight of a boy’s back pack; a metaphor for the load with which he has been saddled.
Memories of a father’s instruction run rampant in his mind.
Taste the smoke as it surges to your lungs….feel the release….smell the aroma. Escape this prison for a moment; retreat from this insanity.
Twisted love found and cherished in places where few dare go. Feel the blade of a stone sharpened machete against your face; clutch at an unseen assassin pray to ? to let you live.
Do you feel me now? See me now? Is the picture in your mind clearer?
Envision a trembling kid as he fidgets with a jet black condom which barely fits his manhood. Reach down and touch the cheek of your best friend; her lips in rhythm with her body say yes………. both betrayed by the terror in her eyes.
The genesis of your empathy? Perhaps……
A thrust… two or three more. You hold her and say it’s ok. The shame in her eyes a foreboding of darker days to come.
Refuge sought and gained in the dilapidated shack that your friend calls home. Contrived stories of conquests ? the otherwise silent night. In the morning they steal their breakfast off the shelves of a neighborhood 7-11 whilst you feast on a meal prepared by your aunt who waits on you hand and foot.
Do you remember like I do?
Atop a bunk bed ? a darked skinned West Indian girl. A year and one abortion later see me ? her after spending a night with the first woman I’ve ever loved.
The present dances, melding with the shadows of the past.
A pale white hand reaches into the deep to retrieve me from a drug induced state of stupor. Dreadlocked Rasta; Sellasie proclaiming; black and proud…………….soul captivated by a white girl.
The phone call which spelled your doom is retrieved at the desk of a hotel clerk.
Son of a pastor; Shame of the family; disowned now fending for himself on strange savage streets. See me adapt to my surroundings; make colleagues of the pimps and prostitutes. See me infect the minds of the once innocent. See me become a monster. See hate begin to fester.
Fast forward to a cold Southwest Philly row house. The streets seemed more homely until the opportunity to prove that thesis came along. All the while pursuing academic accomplishments in an attempt to retrieve a long lost inheritance.
Survival was an instinct. Being ? up was second nature. Living proved the toughest task of them all. In an old apartment the evidence of failed suicide attempts go unnoticed by new occupants.
Yet as I gaze back on those carcasses the revelation hits me; it’s not that I died and was reborn. I merely awoke from slumber.
How do the sleeping multitude affect the few who walk amongst the Gods?
An impossibility.
You sleep……lie dormant…. your existence is as irrelevant as your unspoken condemnation….. I refuse to give life to the tragedy that is your every breath…………
? YOU
It took me a moment to get here.
A journey littered with the carcasses of identities shed; I arose out of the ashes an unrecognizable figure.
Imagine for a moment being the younger brother of a genius; repeatedly reminded of my greatness yet unable to tap into that unlimited potential.
Imagine the pressure of having to be first when third was all you could muster.
Imagine the warm embrace of the neighborhood truant.
Discern the source of my greatest revelation.
Can you stroll with me down memory lane?
Then; maybe only then will you will comprehend just how much it took for me to fall in love with me.
Feel the pulsing heart beat, see the tears run down dusty cheeks; another rejection suffered at the hands of a prepubescent beauty. Ask the questions of yourself just like I did: “Why, how, what more?”
Back muscles strain under the sheer weight of a boy’s back pack; a metaphor for the load with which he has been saddled.
Memories of a father’s instruction run rampant in his mind.
Taste the smoke as it surges to your lungs….feel the release….smell the aroma. Escape this prison for a moment; retreat from this insanity.
Twisted love found and cherished in places where few dare go. Feel the blade of a stone sharpened machete against your face; clutch at an unseen assassin pray to ? to let you live.
Do you feel me now? See me now? Is the picture in your mind clearer?
Envision a trembling kid as he fidgets with a jet black condom which barely fits his manhood. Reach down and touch the cheek of your best friend; her lips in rhythm with her body say yes………. both betrayed by the terror in her eyes.
The genesis of your empathy? Perhaps……
A thrust… two or three more. You hold her and say it’s ok. The shame in her eyes a foreboding of darker days to come.
Refuge sought and gained in the dilapidated shack that your friend calls home. Contrived stories of conquests ? the otherwise silent night. In the morning they steal their breakfast off the shelves of a neighborhood 7-11 whilst you feast on a meal prepared by your aunt who waits on you hand and foot.
Do you remember like I do?
Atop a bunk bed ? a darked skinned West Indian girl. A year and one abortion later see me ? her after spending a night with the first woman I’ve ever loved.
The present dances, melding with the shadows of the past.
A pale white hand reaches into the deep to retrieve me from a drug induced state of stupor. Dreadlocked Rasta; Sellasie proclaiming; black and proud…………….soul captivated by a white girl.
The phone call which spelled your doom is retrieved at the desk of a hotel clerk.
Son of a pastor; Shame of the family; disowned now fending for himself on strange savage streets. See me adapt to my surroundings; make colleagues of the pimps and prostitutes. See me infect the minds of the once innocent. See me become a monster. See hate begin to fester.
Fast forward to a cold Southwest Philly row house. The streets seemed more homely until the opportunity to prove that thesis came along. All the while pursuing academic accomplishments in an attempt to retrieve a long lost inheritance.
Survival was an instinct. Being ? up was second nature. Living proved the toughest task of them all. In an old apartment the evidence of failed suicide attempts go unnoticed by new occupants.
Yet as I gaze back on those carcasses the revelation hits me; it’s not that I died and was reborn. I merely awoke from slumber.
How do the sleeping multitude affect the few who walk amongst the Gods?
An impossibility.
You sleep……lie dormant…. your existence is as irrelevant as your unspoken condemnation….. I refuse to give life to the tragedy that is your every breath…………
? YOU