“Broken Repairs”

The cool breeze of 1935 had struck my body’s right side, chilling my spine, freezing my thoughts. As I grew deeper into my mind, introverted, yet my personality so extroverted; the darker my own perplexities had become. From my spirit out to my chakra had dimmed, yet pride taken over as the sun slowly graced and heated my right fist. This once so handsome personality, beautiful attitude, and attractive creature was now merely an egotistical, contradicting, hypocritical brat who hadn’t lived by what was preached. I had misplaced my very being, MY VERY OWN VOICE in this open world, which felt oh so enclosed into its own self by, secretes and mysteries as the rain poured so beautifully onto my face in 1976. Deception might have grown yet culture had become so distinct, knowing myself but now no longer. My voice again misplaced the voice which filled a void, an emptiness that simply consumes the mentality of the masses and congregations. I ease down city streets in my northeastern big city and birthed is something which blesses my ears, my people’s beauty, and showcases our struggle, life stories, and experience in out country, at our age. Now though seems as if the light bearer come and rob me of myself….spirit of demonic violence overtaking perspective, thought, freedom, and individuality; moving quicker than an epidemic. This demon I recognize all to well….oh my! I hear the sounding of my liberation calling….screeching! The God in me almost broken! My movement, mindset, voice, and liberty almost STRIPPED. Here has been a Genesis been birthed not genocide of myself and my quality….


Now cheers, as glasses clank and ring to our laughs and eager, to the celebration of my renaissance, strolling down extravagant halls of museums and lavish tapestries gazing upon the history of not only myself and my works and my total purpose. I gaze upon beauty before my eyes in this current day the moonlight so clear over the city skyline. I review artistic complexities of beauty in retro lands and =through my retro style statements. Resurrecting not only the beauty of history, yet to relive all of what once had been me, my mind, soul, and spirit, and I. cruising off in a twilight horizon on the coastal roads, renewing my tripartite self. Art so unique, writing flowing as poetry, dance interlocking, music expressions collaborate in my soul as I partake of it. HEAR ME SO CLEARLY! Take notes of this tale. As everyone can die and not have fully lived to express themselves; without any purpose being fulfilled. TAKE TIME TO REAPIR WHAT HAS BEEN BROKEN…pick up the pieces….let nothing murder your renaissance, your philosophical liberation.