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If you were offered the job of U.S. president would you take the job?

Yes/No, I can barely bare the weight of my mother dreams, much less a whole country. But I'd give both my best efforts. I think more poets should be presidents.

Ask me anything

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Ask me anything http://formspring.me/simpletonme

formspring.me

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/simpletonme

formspring.me

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/simpletonme

formspring.me

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/simpletonme

formspring.me

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/simpletonme

Breaking Cement pt. 2

My apologises simpletons for not posting that part 2 up in a timely manner.
Call it CP time.

This was brought about by a week that I'm not sure was worth having.
I'm sure we all feel this way at one point and time.

A lonely boy in a window kinda week.

And honestly I'm not sure if today is any different, firstly, because its 8 A.M. on a Wednesday in freezing cold weather. Secondly, I am technically single around Valentine's Day, which doesn't really matter because I intended on making my mother my valentine anyway. But I've notice what some fail to realize...

Coming from a right point of view is impossible when it comes to love.

John Legend said: "Everybody knows but no body really knows.."

The radio has a tardy tendency of relating to my dilemmas. I've played every role

in the master book of life and just haven't found that happy medium.

Between nice guy, bad guy, smart guy, artsy guy, and what have you but

nothing seems to truly fit me. Whether that's in the aspect of a growing romantic relationship, or a Daytonian captain to a movement that has been progressing beyond me (spoken word) I am

a fraction shadow of the man I need to be. If only it were a bit more quiet...

Then I may be able to hear myself...my true self, distant but not out of sight.

HE is still fragile. I am just the chameleon shell that forces an unmanned adaptation.

Though, at times i feel this shell of myself is vital to my survival, I was just asked yesterday to be the new slam master to Dayton Poetry Slam....WTF!?!! This puts me in a hell of a compromising spot with what I'm trying to do now...it was said that if I don't then Dayton Poetry Slam is dead, and will remain that way permanently.

I only have 21 year old shoulders weak from college and love the same. It is an honor to be thought of but really I have a bunch on my poetic plate as is, trying to live up to the name of my poetic brothers and sisters that most look to as God-like but I look too as pinnacles of brilliance, while making my own name and style in this ever growing world of artistry.

"Wordplay wordsmith"

is a title I am striving to reach on a daily basis...and to some this isn't important...well to me it is.

I have seen lives change because of a simple notebook.

Sidebar::

"Have you ever seen God's smile?"

I saw it in my ex-girlfriend daily...I'm sure if I sat with her long enough I still would.

True, the pain she left me with would bury most mortal men under a false stare and a bleeding heart conversation but with the many I have had, this girl almost had me at "Good-bye".

There was so much Heaven in here that I saw it in old photos. Now if that ain't some shit then I don't know what is. Simpleton me mistook her grace for innocents, so I am beginning to think that God is still in the grimmest vessels. Shows how much power he actually has. This old photo I am referring to was a lonely poem that had to be written before I was ready to let her fold back into wrinkling stepping stones stories. We were two distant dreamers, who's dreams never could catch up to each other. I tend to see that with all the smiles I've dated until recently.

In recent history, I have been feeling like I have been getting too dark for my own skin.

"I truly am sorry for the sins I have become."

Beautiful Blasphemy

I have let so many good things slip past my repair, and I am finally putting things in comfort.

Tangible expectations even the most sub-simpleton can conform to.

Sidebar:.

"Duffy and John Legend make a hell of a playlist." ()-_-()

Just realized that music and poetry both allow me to get free with myself and others...

[THE WRAP-UP]

Simpleton or not, love is a hard concept to understand, and polish. And weeks can be as lonely as Winter break on campus, but we all meet up sooner or later.

PEACE&love...keep it simple.

Me.

Bass Crackling Cement

Hello simpleton yous, trust me, THIS...is no insult.

Reality is too complex for complex thinking but simple reasoning. Do you like that? I just made that hot shit up.



In all seriousness..."We've Gotta Talk..."

It's been far too long since I really released a compromising situation to the eworld.

First, like an old comprehensive comparision, I will purpose a couple questions to gain a better understanding of what the blog to follow will pertain to....



1) Since when did being a nice guy not come with benefits?



2) Is it ok for memories to smell so bad?



3) Does the pain in the left side of a man's ribcage ever leave?



4) Is it as easy to roll a heart like an ankle? Or should it be more circular?

A Sleepy Twosome.

" What an awful sin I have become..."

"I found a mirror that described me perfectly today.

She was about 5'6. A breeze away from breaking

and a stare as strong as her fathers, so I took to her eyes like devotion.

I read her lips like two maps and her sister looked everything like her.

We were conversationalists.

Twenty-two with a voice I could only comprehend in a forward lean

but it was loud enough to hear broken bottles leading to her bruised cheek

I could only glance at imagining the pain in her waist.

She's had a while to learn how to switch."

So, today was an early day at the bookstore on campus. Had no idea what was in store for me here, but I was soon to find myself neck deep in costumers and question that I really had no answer to. Some more important than others. I honestly couldn't catch up to the stillness in glares so I looked down for most of these empty conversation (which now have been scripted to index-card sized papers at each register) and broken wallets....I repeated this story daily. It came down to simple clock work.

Early Morning Me

"Its so brand new this morning that my hands hurt."

So work is last on my mind but first on a list of things to do this morning. I'm really starting to think that my pen is starving for attention. See me and my notebooks broke up last night. No worries it is the first of many occassions when poetic reference takes a back seat to wayward youth infused journeys and really, I just want to walk around aimlessly for a day. Or two. I get bored with routines and thats what this poetry thing is starting to look more and more like everyday.

Real Talk::

I am hitting some form of wall where language seems to be foreign and everyone looks at me like I got a plan. Truth, I'm just writing because I have something to say, well, God has something to say and as a vessel I often lose my place in the whole "plan" thing.

This I am sure about; we all hate facing the facts that we really dont know whats in store for us...if anything is for us at all. Don't get me wrong, I AM NOT A RELIGIOUS PERSON, I am however a spiritual one and my relationship with God is one of my own understanding.

Simple enough?

BSoul.tv - Mos Def ft. Talib Kweli - History (music video)

BSoul.tv - Mos Def ft. Talib Kweli - History (music video)

Not Just in Large Numbers..

To say that there is truth in large numbers is clearly overstated.

Hip Hop has a way with me. If ever I needed a shoulder or listening ear

then I found myself turning to one of my oldest friend in the back of a book of references

including God and my mother. Rhymes have always kept me grounded. Having one of these

over due grindin' out days to myself, I stumbled on an old video, one of my favorites.

I used to think that my father was drum because a beat can keep my pulse. Really! Like seriously, my reflex to music is not just physical, its like an arrangement of molecules

begin a conga line pitter patter of ideas in my soul.

This video just proved to be my relaps back into a functioning Hip Hop Head.

So no H.A. (Hip-hop Anonomous) meetings for me this week. PEACE.

A Simple Explanation...

The Story of Simple.

Not the same tale from Langston Hughes. lol.

See, this blog spot has been inspired by writers and poets before me just taken and revamped to fit my own corky and perspective personality. This is my first blog that I am really going to take my time and cater to because I figured it was worth a true shot. Coming to a harsh conclusion that I have commitment issues, I have tried this almost 8 times before deciding not to let my lack of all and all "honesty" hang out for the masses to see.

To simply put it, for once is a long time of shallow breaths I intend on being real, letting loose the firm hold on masculinity, and being vulnerable. Here is a piece of my heart, maybe you will find that we speak the same language.