lazarus' song

I'm
I'm gonna' run right now
to the light that shines
to stars that glow so bright
in the darkest of days
I'm gonna' do my thing
...and if I don't change the world,
wont let the world change me!

Roll away the stone
and bring me back to life


When I tried to do it all my own way
what I tried to do did not work out
guess I gotta' learn to let things go
Got to leave it in God's hands,
let Him work this life out
They say the road ain't easy
but I walk it just the same
Got the same dreams
...since I was young and seventeen
but it seems sometimes
those dreams are so far away


Roll away the stone
and bring me back to life



a song written on a road trip to New Orleans in 2007.
abbreviated version

the Rising

I arise from the bottom, wormwood and rot

Sick from disease of a world without God

…and mother nature turned her back on her boy

but it’s all-right

I never had luck with broads

Came up in the ghetto, dark times and joy

Niggaz in the hood be thankin’ I’m middle class hard

Hunger burned a hole in me can’t never be filled

By mediocre promises and broken wills

Thousand dollar pay raise spread over years

And prey on fears

(since they killed the economy)

Boxed up and shamed,

Still tryin' t' figure how I got so lame?

It ain't a Gott Dang Game, it's a Gott Dang shame

Forty summers deep, still ain't doin' my thang

w h a t ?

Cuz I was taught to work e'ry day, all day

Three shifts back to back for poor pay

Staying up late, still early to rise

no surprise when I could not fly

and too tired to try

A cog in the wheel of another man’s machine

To hell with yo schemes nigga, fuh-git yo’ dreams

Get back in that box. That box yo life.

That box’ yo er'y day Jesus Christ

Monkeys punch buttons for a treat or a prize

I punch for -the last twelve years of my life?

And Freedom dies...

Who cares 'bout the pain and hate

mixed together

in my deep set eyes

From the dust to the troposphere, time I rise

From the mindless grind

o f - e v e r y - d a y - l i f e

spread yo wings Raven and fly

on hurricane breeze atop the sky

I’m up from the depths, from the wormwood and the rot

Won't forget the bottom when I rocket to the top

Too mean to let my furious heartbeat

S T O P ! ! !

Too cool to run amuck, too fool to …not!

It's the 10th of June, and half past doom

Rebel bout to rage from the cage, soon

Iron wings stretched to fly again

Weary of this dream of life

...glad it’s at its end

~

Atchafalaya

Atchafalaya

The sun was a shattered tangerine colored dish that hang in the center of the golden morning. It glowed warmly, as if heaven had smiled down on you and said, “It’s a new day, another chance to change to get it right.” I mirrored the dawn’s smile; was thankful for the chance to put yesterday behind me, to begin again. The new light seemed like the memory of a good friend. it slid around me, teased me with the promise of a warm embrace, then pulled away from me as I reached out to touch it. In that instant I couldn’t seem to move; Didn’t seem to breathe; Didn’t want to face the world without the dawn to light my way. So I lay there, staring past the window, staring at my friend -the morning sun- and in my sweet molasses half dream, my friend was smiling back.

I think about the last few good days -Wow, they seem so long ago- think about my big sister June. She was a fine brown thing and she knew it all too well. She sashayed around the crib, letting her big behind swing wild enough to throw her back out. I remember telling her one time, “Girl, it look like you tryin’ to hide the moon in yo back pocket.” She didn’t much appreciate it, ‘specially since her old man was over at the time and she was showing off for him. He laughed though –stupid. Bet he didn’t git none that night.

I thought about Momma in the kitchen. She was always whippin’ up somethin’, like pancakes and sausages and pan frying some red tomatoes with some Creole seasoning and French batter; its off the chain. And Daddy, some mornings he would come over to eat too. Picture that old man sleeping at the table –fork in one hand, knife in the other- and snoring down. I think that man could sleep through a hurricane. He was always tired; always hustled to make ends. Things didn’t work out too good with Momma and him, I was never sure why, but he never made himself a stranger. Came over often as he could; and worked two jobs so Momma could stay home and help June with her bad ass lil boy.
Man, my parents were good to us. Made sure we didn’t want for nothin’.

Me, I promised myself that I would become a success, a real entrepreneur, so I could help Momma and June out. So my daddy wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel of his taxi at three in the morning. But me, stupid me, I wanted the fast money. Just some starter money to get my lil’ business running. I hooked up with these cats, some foul cats -old school killers, self proclaimed entrepreneurs from the By-water with schemes on top of schemes cooking inside their messed up heads. I came off of a brick fast. Made loot hand over fist. I was a success, but the cats who fronted me the brick, they start working a plan behind my back. They want to take my stash, then tell the management that somebody robbed me at gunpoint. I wasn’t feelin’ it. Guess I didn’t have a choice in the matter. Them fools don’t know who they dealing with. Thereon Cartier aint nobody’s duck. last night we exchanged heat over on Columbus street by the river. I hit two of them, a dude named Clarence that I knew from the ninth ward and a cat from over on Pauger street we call fat Elton. I could swear I caught heat in my back on the way back to the car, but I didn’t. I couldn’t have, ‘cause here I am. it felt so real, pain like ten sledgehammers crashing into my spine. Yeah, must have been my imagination. had to be.

So I watch the sunrise. I feel the light all around me as it teased me with the promise of a warm embrace. I slip back into the lucid retreat of sleep and meditate, just for a moment, on the agony in my back. The pain fades, the sun disintegrates into utter obscurity, and I think how I’m really gonna’ miss June and her bad ass lil boy; and I think, I’m really gonna miss Momma’s pancakes and sausage, and them French battered fried tomatoes.


fin`

the Umbra: Part 2

The twilight sparkles @ dark times
The clarity of thought
When you lost your mind
The wonders, the purpose, the fear, the shame
Lost lives in mud slides after the rain
The black water bogs, peat moss and deranged
The smoke of a long away dream, in flames
The rage of a dragon burning in my chest
Incinerating my breast with passionate breath
Words spit like fire on the World Wide Web
Like nitro glycerine in my head
And hope is alive, so my dream now dead
Will rise again.

17 Dreams

Dope dreams and summer time schemes like Ben-Jam-in

A hundred things stopping you from getting the greens

Hope never abandoned us, she just into better things

Fulfilling nigger dreams is for the King of Kings

Impossible things

Dried like deserts in June

Vision blurry, throat parched and soul thirsty

Shriveled like the ninety six year old chest

Of a stripper named Sunshine, in her life’s sunset

Who never knew real love, but placed her bet

That a thug in armor shining might stop by yet

Black Icarus

What I want is to get the girls out of their clothes

Squeeze big behinds so skillful I can touch their souls

Want my friends close around me like back in the days

Before the goddamned storm moved us all away

And Lord, do I pray

Help me learn to fly again

Some day

I know I'm jaded

Soul annihilated

I see the hand I'm dealt, and I'm tryin' to play it

Scars from broken teeth on the back of my hand

In a world always trying to test the fact I'm The MAN

Chained my desire, but discipline kills fire

Aint the world cold enough? Right. Thought so

Choked the will till it was maimed and useless

Incoherent speeches of the vision kissed

Babbled from bruised lips

And eyes swollen shut from endless fists

Now i embrace the shadows for the nothing I did

For the hopes I was burdened with

And the dreams I dared

For the words I smithed

Forged in conviction and pain

For the stories I shared

Now I want to escape myself, but I don't dare

I'm feelin’ free, now days; I just don’t care

Like

Its midnight in the garden and I can’t stand the glare

And when the morning comes, don't want to hate the glow

Of radiant sun shine that ignites my soul

Summertime skies, preaching live for the day

And that’s okay, heard Solomon say

What must I do, Lord

To fly again?

I don't know

But no matter where I go, there I go

Thinking bout Brighton, Perth or Tokyo

All I wanted in life was to make my Poppa proud

To see my Momma smile as I move the crowd

Or to get the fly girls out of their clothes

With rhymes hues and flows

Squeeze apple bottoms so thorough, I can touch their souls

Want my friends around me like back in the days

Before Katrina moved us all away

And Lord, how I pray

Help me to learn to fly again

Some day

Test Page

A Reflection on a Full Moon @ 12:17 am

When it’s time for me to leave this place I’ll not go silent
I’m gonna rage outta this world with great violence
Wild out like jungle beats atop synthesizers
I will not go respectably with peace and quiet
I’m gonna burn the trough of heaven with intentions uncharted
Shake the golden gates and claim, I was just getting started
And with a voice like thunder tumbling across the loam
I want seven times the years I aint draw from the zone
One hundred and ten years, still breakin' bonez
One more year to draw, Lord; then take me home
One more party to bless, one more trifling poem
One more young thing to pretzel up and make my own

Revised Outro:
When it's time for me to leave, I'll not go silent
I'm gonna rage out with bouts of great violence
Like jungle beats atop synthesizers
Go out in a riot of passion and fire

Telekinesis

The old world is shattered
The ceilings don’t matter
A hellstorm of wood and plaster
You hear the clamor
Of a million and one tons of unchecked drama
F@(k glamour
Spare me the niceties, skip the chit chatter
Must be deranged
Slough off these chains like an ill fitting jacket and
Fly again

On Iron wings

tumble through the sky kicking hurricane breezes
Telekinesis
Anodyne times ten Analgesic
Down, the technocracy
Phones and feces
Laugh at their slack jaw features
As I hit them with my best and they fell to pieces
You know I’m growing stronger when I’m not around
Whether toiling in the dungeon or a mile off the ground
Mountains tops obscured from the heights I fly
Skin seared by ion breezes 'bove the sky
I walk on sunshine; it's never night
Act like you didn’t know it is do or die
I piss on cumulo nimbis - You enjoy the rain
Must be deranged
Slough off these chains and fly again
On Iron wings

Character Quiz; first and last! GRRRrrrr!!

Mood: Inhuman Rage
Listening to: Mos Def/ The New Danger
...let me be your favorite nightmare, close your eyes and i'll be right there. i am the most beautiful boogy man.
Reading: Steven Barnes' Iron Shadows
Watching: No freakin time for movies! I just got tagged with a bloody character quiz by [link] So be it.
I'll play this game ...this time
Basics
What's your characters name?Maite' Jimenez, known on the block as Mighty Mai.
How old is he/she?Nineteen. Twenty on November 2nd, 2117.
Is your O.C. a boy or girl?Woman.
What's his/her race?Father's human (Mexiqan), mother's something else (Saran). She's a hybrid, her own race.
AppearanceMai is petite and hard bodied thanks to her Parrain's intense martial arts training. Well muscled, but modestly covered in baggy pants and thread bare tee shirts. She carries a sugar cane knife, a glorified machete with a Japanese sword handle which she playfully refers to as killjoy.
Is your character considered normal in his/her own world? You tell me if a butterscotch-skinned fitness goddess with a 17 inch machete on her hip instead of a Bruno Mali bag is your everyday shit. ...like Omyrah Mota on rhoids, nice rack, tight bottom and all covered in a pauper's rags and a civil war kepi....That means NO if you weren't paying attention.
[link]
What would be his/her most recognizable feature(s)? Her eyes are wolf eyes, canted Latin eyes shaped like almonds and shimmering amber like an alien sun. And if you are caught in their angry gaze, you are probably moments away from your last breath.4)

Would you consider your OC as attractive?She has as an odd and elegant face. -A pleasant amber tinted oval, grinning with some private joke; some unspoken secret; a demented angel on the verge of a violent display of unchecked aggression.
Personality
Temper? The EPITOME!! Tude incarnate in fine brown flesh. Mighty Mai is a Rage Machine. A lifetime of indignities suffered at the hands of her caretakers at the state home and various foster homes has withered the sweet spirit that dwells ghostlike in the darker aspects of her tortured self. She is a classic sociopath. -The perfect case study of limbic trigger syndrome, but with full recognizance of every violent episode. She embraces her darker aspects because they have served her so well on the dirty streets of post apocalypse New Orleans.
Does your character ever get depressed?She knows only the regret of her parents' deaths and unchecked fury. And hell, would you be depressed under an inkblot sky, the sun once bright and beautiful shining on what's left of humanity through a dim and hopeless prism; shining, but a mere reflection of its once magnificent light as the Earth shrivels and dies slowly. Humanity starving as the ground is no longer capable of bearing fruit. She should be depressed, but Mai's too filled with anger and too concerned about starving to death.
She's too busy killing folk to be depressed.
Leader or Follower? Antisocial behavior makes her a complete rebel. Neither!
What is the main aspect of his/her personality?Rage. (Thus the title) She wants to make the person or people or group of people responsible for her father and mother's deaths in the winter of 2099, pay for their crimes- pay for the life of insane torture that she endured because her parents were stolen from her.
History
Simple:Orphan is adopted from the state facility at age ten by the notorious child molester Philip Desmond Naquin. She is the 17th of 22 wards of the state taken in by the evil pedophile and his soulless and down trodden wife. Naquin had so many children in his home that he couldn't remember their names. She wears the shame of her youth tattooed on her left cheek; a blaring red and black 17. At age twelve she killed Naquin and escaped the deranged household, only to fall prey to the relentless Crescent City streets. Dying of starvation, soul tortured, hope evaporated like rain drops in the august heat, Soron Khan finds her, nurses her back to health and teaches her the martial art style of her father called the Movimiento de Ocho Rios (the Eight Rivers Movements).
Did your OC have a family of any sort?Only her parrain(godfather), a Phantom soldier named Soron Khan. Khan is indisputably the most dangerous man on earth. No one in the history of humankind has killed more in the name of duty and service to King and Country as Soron Khan.
Is your character out on his/her own?No. She lives in the dojo with Killer Khan in the notorious Treme' area in the annihilated ruins of New Orleans.
Has he/she encountered any traumatizing events?If you consider the murder of her family, serial rape by a state appointed care-taker and a slow death by starvation traumatic, then yes.
What was probably the best time in his/her life so far?Short of training with Khan, that moment hasn't happened yet
Romance
Single?Married to Killjoy (the machette).
Has your OC developed any romantic relationships?Right. You wanna' date her?
You might survive the introduction.
Virgin? should I even dignify this with a response!?
Does your character like flirting? With Death; yes. With you; No. Her social pathos begins and ends with anger, followed abruptly by a stabbing.
Symbolism
What animal would you associate your OC with? Lupino ojo, wolf eyes.
Musical Instrument? Mp10 (she'd so be a drummer)
Element?Fire.
Planet? Mars.
Showing the love?In your dreams
Do you draw your character? yes.
Do you write about him/her?yes.
Do you use him/her in any rpgs?no. Not yet!
What other ways have you appreciated your OC?Re dux of the sloppily done first issue.
RANDOMIZE!
Is your character wanted for anything? No, several charges of murder in the first degree have disappeared from the city records in; the murder of a pimp named Cadillac Styles, the pimp's hyper thyroid bodyguard 'Zilla' and seven or eight New Orleans Government trained Corporate Police.
What are three weaknesses in him/her? Usually, 1)she cannot see past her anger, and 2)Mai cannot see the artistry in the fighting arts that her father created. Then there is the 3)fear that she will not be strong enough to avenge her parents, and if she does avenge them, what next?
Strengths? She is determined to become the Earths greatest fighter. She has the genetic ability and socio-psychological proclivity to become just that. Also, Khan's teachings reveal the hidden power which emerged after intense training and a free for all with the pimp called Cadillac Styles.
Does your OC drink or smoke (ect.)?Uh... besides being a celebrated murderer, Mai has no vices.
What's one quirk about him/her?Her wit is treacherous. She likes to kill with words before killjoy chimes in. Verbal assaults from a samurai sharp tongue accompany every feral exchange. -Totally inappropriate humor in the face of impending disaster.
Does your character have any phobias? She is 1)afraid of being weak, 2)afraid of failure, afraid of the 3)harsh and utter scrutiny of others. "Don't judge me! Only God can judge me!!"
What could you do to get him/her into a blind rage? Steal her jambalaya, bump into her in the mall, laugh while looking in her direction. Sexual overtures, appropriate or otherwise will also get you on the bad end of the rage.
Does your OC like chickens? Southern fried; if there was any left. …But if you mean people with no moral fortitude, no.
The Final Question:
What would you consider your relationship with your character to be like? I'd balance her. I could teach her to manage her insane anger, direct it into something useful. Show her that there is more to life than the past. That tomorrow is irrelevant and not a promise, that there is only today and enjoy today while you have it. I would be the father or uncle or brother -the family- that she never had.



"Death Angel Maite" @2001 by John-Reuben A. Milton dba 17Dreams / all rights reserved

theRain

aint it strange,
how you walk thru the heat, cuz you expect the rain

with your final desperate breath...
…oh,… Jesus
...you spoke the name
hope is born again
in spite summer storms
and howling wind
yo sight grown dim
when the glimmer of your sweet, sweet soul
returns to a mere melody in celestial hymns

seventeen years in the deep
and sixteen of them years I aint had no sleep
cuz
you gotta be awake to find the truth you seek
it’s hard to dream when you won't count sheep
besides,
how you gon’ focus on what you cant see
the present, the past, the future, the dreams
and blind men concentrate on the task at hand
but won’t make plans
cuz
you can't do what you don’t understand

seventeen years in the deep
and sixteen of them years I aint had no sleep
see, sleep aint the cousin of death, but death's twin
dreams may die, but your vision lives again

and aint it strange,
how you walk thru the heat and you expect the rain

sketchbook stuff

Xian`Ra. Nuff said.

a divine reflection@ 12:25am

Crushed by the wheels of industry
A cog that never fit
My impact on the world I know
I might well not exist
But over time and trial by fire
And failures I have seen
I never did, nor ever will
Give up my faith in Thee.

(Thanks for the dreams)

one and seven dreams; part one (the Rube)

i’m bringin' a knife
to the biggest gun fight
of my life
and it’s all right
cuz if i
die tonight
at least i
tried to live this life right
2 use some of my gifts
and
treat my people right
in-spite the dirty way you looked at me,
u looked at me like
i was the underbelly of earthworms
was ist dat scheisse?!
i’m unworthy or sum such
guten tag, frauline, but you aint right
a beast like me might do u right
but
u want respect from thug niggaz
u want ballerz who share
and hard core street killers with
soul so fair
u want pretty boys 2 luv u, like these pretty niggas care
baby daddy’s to raise strong suns from behind prison cells
and somethin’ good to finally come from yo life in hell
can’t press rewind now, u did it to yo-self

...and now

u look-in’

at me?

cuz nerds pay bills
and

i might be a geek but I'm a strong black man

so, no thank u ma’am

cuz,
‘round the cornda'and up the block
we embraced struggles, cuz struggles was all we got
we kissed sacrifice on the lips, and grabbed it by the tits
cuz it’s about 2 get back twice what it made a gift
bend struggle over sofa’s and break the back of that b!+@#
4 them times when invisible foes lobbed thought grenades
then laughed as i battled demons in the hell hot blaze
and almost lost my pace,
but like that old time religeon,
i kept my faith
when zombie eyes peered, lifeless from shattered faces
dreams and hopes, forgotten; dried out and rotten
lost hope, lost days,
lost the will to stay
all work and small pay
all hope but no play
day, stacked
precariously
upon day, upon day, upon day
till they all the same
like channel zero n-side my head

...4 no smooth hips to crush close when nights was ice cold misery
no loving eyes
to search the sinister soul and find the good in me
no soft words when rage grew unstable, then exploded out
or the caress of a small soft voice proclaim without doubt
follow your dreams
all seven teen
it’s gon’ be okay, baby ...I got 'chu.
hell storm or whatever
cuz God put us two

two-gether.

so…
here i am with a knife
at the biggest gun fight
of my life

and if i die on broken dreams tonight
least i used some of my gifts
and tried to treat people nice
spite the
dirty way she done me that thursday night
turned her back, walked away and -took my light
yet my soul shines twice as bright.

(this one is dedicated to the red, the black and the green)

Easter

Jesus wept
and i caught the tear in my chest
laid down by family, friends and the sweetest of stress
yet not bereft
but blind eyes could see
embraced the death of my dreams too easily

besieged by the needy
shiny teeth, hungry mouths become greedy
jagged smiles to karo syrup soul
wage slave or sinner, lion or foal
mislaid my soul, but i’ll be damned if i let go
flossin’ that golden rule
-do unto others; in spite what they done to you
thinking…
reciprocity must be a one way thing
that some say,
“it’ll happen some day” thing
a morphine scene,
closer it seems than
‘loveplay’ in sheer proximity
…but i digress

Jesus wept
and i caught the tear in my chest
laid down by family, friends and the sweetest of stress
collateral damage in the throes of a holy fight
hope shine like ten watt bulb in boneblack night
the right life like, tired of fights like
tired of working hard all night to get it right
feelin’ like, just might break down tonight
to the depths of depravity, give into gravity
the gravity of…
then it happened

Jesus wept
i felt the tear hit my chest
eyes wide as twin moons
i awaken from rest
i awaken from death
i’m blue-violet supernova as if
polaris met sol in a neutron tryst
eat suns beams and puke ether,
spit lava word sounds truth radiates deeper
the light breaks forth like a hundred dawns
like a neon night on azure shores
like
gasoline oceans -the world ignites
i bring the heat, God made the light
face dark, rain storm eyes glimmer with lightniin’
to them who don’t see the son, it must be frightnin’
the ghost who walks, aint got much to say
but when i touch you, you bound 2b blown away

Jesus wept, but this time there was joy on his face.
‘cause i finally realized my place.

Re-Born.

D.A.M. promo poster (2nd draft)