on my knees

at her altar..

“hi. i’d ask you to dance with me if it weren’t for my two left feet. then I considered that maybe you wouldn’t mind since you don’t debate for the sake of being right. free of mind you might take it upon yourself to spin me; painting the dance floor practicing ensō. i’d never ask you to abandon your solitude only to share with me the moments in between.”

words written to me..

do not call me a poet.


i am a word organizer.

these words are not

and never will be

mine to keep.


i arrange words

that are not my own

to reflect my self


my soul.

i have a love affair

with the unknown..

clandestine cerebral caresses of a taciturn demiurge..

listen with glistening eyes, of bewildered moons and far away skies..


this is exactly how I dance when I am walking home (first & third frames)

(Source: blackmalesingers, via abluesforbrklyn)

"People involved in a revolution don’t become part of the system; they destroy the system… The Negro revolution is no revolution because it condemns the system and then asks the system it has condemned to accept them…"

| Malcolm X