November Reigns

the Rising

2009-06-10T02:39:00.023-05:00

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

2009-03-10T01:14:00.010-05:00

Atchafalaya

The sun was a ruined tangerine that glowed in the center of the cotton candy sky. It shimmered warmly, like heaven smiled down on you and said, “It’s a new day, another chance to get it together.” 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, she smiled back at me.

I think about the last few good days -Wow, they seem so long ago- think about my big sister June. She's a "fine brown thing" and she know it too. Sashaying 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 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, Mason.
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 scheme on top of scheme cooking inside their maladjusted heads. I came off of a brick fast. Made loot hand over fist. I was a success, but these 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, meditate on the agony in my back. The pain fades, the sun disintegrates into utter obscurity, and I begin 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

2008-02-13T00:01:00.007-06:00

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.

2/13/08
12:01 AM

even more tests

2007-12-05T13:50:00.002-06:00

Resurection: Easter Part 2

2007-03-21T00:22:00.002-05:00

From the deep I rise
From the icy depths of
Morpheus’ grip, I set my eyes
On light that shines
Beyond the endless liters
Of Black midnight
That floods my mind
To touch that sunshine
Blasting through the deep
Like laser fire
Re-birth my soul, Lord
I'm so tired
But won't stop the dance
'Til I crash the surface
And embrace Dawn

From the mire I climb
Earth slick with the foam
of ocean tide
Thought I was free
But the crawl thru the soft earth
Deep and brown, still prisons me
I must break free
Come hell or high water
Deep kisses on the lips of sweet victory
See the
Skeletal remains of
Souls, once at bay
That failed to keep the pace
Forever frozen in
This God-forsaken place
Sits atop the mud pile
Mocking me
But I'm ignorant of defeat
Others die in despair
But, No! Not me

From the mount I'll fly
By darkness blinded
Silt covered and cold
I trudged all night
Through wild twilight
The feral lies of starving beasts
Whispered through razor teeth
“Time you die”
I dare them “try”
Battle them in the dark depths
Damn this broken vessel
Wage war with spirit, mind and fire
Weak hearts skip beats
Like broken metronomes
Thump-thump, thump-thump
I will ever go on

From the clouds I cry
mingled tears of joy and madness
because I realize
That when I fly
Freedom chains are broken
-sloughed off and rusty-
I touch the sky

Lil' Mamma!

2007-01-16T11:13:00.002-06:00

‘sup Lil’ Mamma
seen Ya’ 'round the conda’ with them girls and that drama
wonder could i bother
you
with a lil romance
forget your mans
put aside yo’ hard times
f’ ‘long as you can
lawd lil Mamma
wont ‘cha lemme help you
get it off yo’ chest
wont ‘cha lemme help you get outta’ that stress
back rubs and love
to get you outta that dress
kama sutra backbends
ancient trends
re-aligning shakras is back in style again
u talkin’ crazy, baby
-aint we friends?
your place or mine
lets go there again
stuff you with lobster tail, jambalaya and gin
roast pork, fried chicken, candied yams and gin
ice bobs in a tumbler
amber over the rim
ten minutes of conversation,
four hours of sin
talk crazy if you want
but i c u grin.
‘sup lil mamma
talkin’ with yo' girls about the er' day drama
wonder could i bother
you with a lil romance
play like it's France
and when the sun comes up
we'll fly there again

Where The Heart Is...

2006-10-18T00:29:00.005-05:00

I don’t expect the sun light, not in the rain
I don’t expect to see my N'awins again
Home is where the heart is, or so I've heard
Then home is black and shattered and rank with old blood
Cold and frozen like, wind blown slush and ice
Home

Alice Stockman took wings in ninety and eight
Left behind sweet memories in which we still partake
In birthday parties and homemade cakes
Sunday dinners; every one a winner

Home

Gave all to an urchin who threw all to the side
For a match to the ass of a tempered glass pipe
Was it worth that bump, that grind, that six second high?
Disappeared in December
On a Tuesday night
with no goddamned goodbye

Home

Took Braine, Bailey and Adrian
Triumvirate souls of a poet, a dreamer, a soldier, my friend
And a new world of possibilities, new worlds without end
Until the whole world ended

Home
Where momma cried
Head shaved for warfare like Ethel's was
Decades before
Tears raced down her face, hope versus fear
It took a miracle to raise her up
Momma still here

I don't expect to see the sun shining in rain
I don't expect to fail, to succeed or maintain
Home is where the heart is, so I've been told
I'm a heartless man; because I can't go home

A Reflection on a Full Moon @ 12:17 am

2006-06-12T00:18:00.013-05:00

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

2006-06-06T22:03:00.001-05:00

Character Quiz; first and last! GRRRrrrr!!

2006-04-16T00:02:00.043-05:00

Mood: Incomprehensible Rage

Listening to: Pytor Ilyich Tchaikovsky ...with a break beat under it.
Reading: the Bible, 'cuz I need Jesus
Watching: No freakin time to watch anything but me taking over the world!

Basics

What's your characters name?
Isis Cruz
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?

Mostly human.

Appearance
Isis is a petite, hard bodied martial artist, modestly hidden in baggy cargo pants and thread bare tees. She carries a Parang -"Killjoy"- and wears Mary Janes or brogans instead of pumps.

Is your character considered normal in his/her own world?
A 4'11'' copper-skinned fitness goddess with hair like wild fire, the number "7" laser stenciled on the left side of her face and an 18 inch curved knife on her hip instead of a Coach bag is normal, right?
What would be his/her most recognizable feature(s)?

Canted, almond shaped, orange eyes (...and fire hair).

Would you consider your OC as attractive?
Brutal elegance. Yes I would.

Personality

Temper?
The Epitome!! ...classic sociopath
Does your character ever get depressed?

Too busy killing folks to be depressed.

Leader or Follower?
Lone Wolf.

What is the main aspect of his/her personality?
Hate, sprinkled with Tony Chachere's
History

Her mother's murder orphaned her. She was adopted from a state facility by the evil pedophile Philip Desmond Naquin and his soulless, down trodden wife Nadeen.
Ice was the 7th of 22 children, wards of the state who were herded into the small house and numbered like cattle.
At age twelve she killed Naquin and escaped the deranged home, only to fall prey to the streets.

Soron Khan found her, nursed her back to health, and taught her the martial art of her father "Movimiento de Ocho Rios" (the Eight Rivers Movements), and the Qi Gong.

Did your OC have a family of any sort?
Soron Khan found her, nursed her back to health... Khan is her Parrain (god father).

Is your character out on his/her own?

She lives in a shotgun house on Columbus Street, with her Parrain.

Has he/she encountered any traumatizing events?
Her life is cookies and cake and sweet potato pie...

What was probably the best time in his/her life so far?
Short of her training with Khan that moment hasn't happened yet.

Mood: bored with this insufferable mind pump of a quiz

Listening to: Adolf Hitler with Biggie Smalls voice coming out
"...where Brooklyn at! where Brooklyn at!" So strange.
Reading: the Bible, 'cuz I still need Jesus

Watching: woman's giant behind as she walks across my living room.

Romance

Single?
Married to Killjoy.

Has your OC developed any romantic relationships?
You want to date her?
Virgin?

No thanks, trying to quit.

Does your character like flirting?
With Death; yes. With you; No.
Her thing begins with anger, followed by a stabbing.

Symbolism

What animal would you associate your OC with?
Wolf.

Musical Instrument?
She'd so be a drummer

Element?
Fire.

Planet?
Mars.

Showing the love?
In your dreams.

Do you draw your character?
Me. ...and me alone!

Do you write about him/her?
Yes.

Do you use him/her in any rpgs?
No. Got no time for games!

What other ways have you appreciated your OC?
The much anticipated (...but poorly executed) re-do of the amateurishly thrown together first issue.

RANDOMIZE!

Is your character wanted for anything?
Her looks.
Wait... What?! Oh, you mean...

Technically; no. But she does fit the description of...

What are three weaknesses in him/her?
1). Isis cannot see past her anger, and 2). misses the artistry in the fighting style that her father created.
Then there is 3). the fear that she will not be strong enough to avenge her parents deaths, and if she does avenge them, what next?

Strengths?
She is determined to become the Earths greatest fighter. Khan's teachings have revealed a new dimension of hidden abilities.

Does your OC drink or smoke (ect.)?
Besides being a celebrated murderer, "Isis gots no vices".

What's one quirk about him/her?
Her wit is treacherous. She likes to cut you with words before Killjoy chimes in. Verbal assaults from a samurai sharp tongue accompany many exchanges.

Does your character have any phobias?
She is 1). afraid of being weak, 2). afraid of failing, and afraid of... Read the mini-series (when I do it) and find out, you nosy mother f...
What could you do to get him/her into a blind rage?
Steal her jambalaya. Bump into her in the mall. Wait, no. Don't make her angry, you'll live longer.

Does your OC like chickens?
Southern fried (if there were any left), yes.
…if you mean people with no moral fortitude, no. Neither do I.

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 rage -direct it into something useful, like a mugging. Show her that there is more to life than...
Hell with that, I'd be too scared to talk to Isis.

Mood: Anger. Still not drawing.
Listening to: My heart thunder in my chest like the funky drummer.

Reading: the Bible, 'cuz yes, I still need Jesus

Watching: the world become the stinkiest poop right before my eyes

the Umbra

2006-01-29T00:09:00.014-06:00

Dark soldiers tried to steal my heart last night
Two at the window to blot out the light
Hissed the words evilly to instill fright
I lay back and listen without puttin up a fight
They say “you gonna die of cancer”
I say that’s good

cancer eats doubt and fear until it’s gone
They say “you're gonna' lose that strong right arm”
Then I’ll beat you down lefty till you breathe no more
They laugh “you move like a cripple:
Yeah, that’s true, I’ll limp from this fight
Your sick plan in ruins when I douse your light
“you aint gon’ be nothing” they finally said
Then...
Why you poozers tryin' to mess with my head

Lil' Lame duck attack while I'm still in my bed

I awaken with half a smile
it's two thirty four
Cloaked by the darkness besides the glow
The anger in my gut like embers burn
Thinkin', it must be my turn
The dark soldiers disappeared like mist in rain
I fell back to sleep again
go figure

mighty mai

2005-11-18T03:04:00.003-06:00

sketchbook stuff

2005-11-14T14:41:00.000-06:00

Xian`Ra. Nuff said.

a divine reflection@ 12:25am

2005-08-08T00:25:00.003-05:00

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)

2005-06-23T18:34:00.004-05:00

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 Phoenix and the Dragon ...and me)

the Midnight

2005-03-05T21:40:00.003-06:00

here i am
like midnight
*****but twice as bright
implacable like
darkness DONE come to life
*****like
I'm two a.m. in brogans and ready to fight
or pretzel olive stained
angels
*******all night

*****...or 'till I can't breathe right
eyes bright and shining and my smile just might
*******be mistaken for the HOLY light
of
galaxies being born
in the depths of this gifted soul
on the verge of on the precipice, poised on the brink
...aint I supposed to think!?
*****mind blown
rash decisions, bad collisions
*******two parts divinity times cataclysm
*****midnight puttin’ boots to woe
smashing foes
*******goin’ outta my way to find
words, hues and flows
*****and doing shows
like shattered hopes living low in the valley of broken dreams
them broken things
*****thronging your head like a lidocane dream
another sign to you of the end of all things
you can choke on your corporation schemes
*****or make worlds with words
*******easier than shootin’ gifts to hoes

***(hoes, since my sista’s don't feel me)

hands bleed from the work i do.
eyes bleed from the view
mind reels from the utter asininities
*******of
…technophile society
hell with a company dream when your vision is real
*****realer than cold fingers in a freon breeze
*****-or hurricane mangled trees
*******the unjust seem blessed in absurd degrees
but the night like me …be
*******on the verge of brighter things
*****then comes the dawn.