Gotham

The heart of the city.

I once controlled the rhythm of the beat.

When the days turned dark,

Your spotlight shined bright in the sky.

I would drop everything

With no reason as to why.

I’d run to you, and if I had wings I’d fly

As fast as I could because for this city

I’d might even die.

Your conspicuous vigilante

Always there to save the day.

To wash away and decimate all dismay.

Rain poured, thunder growled in a vicious rage

And my cape was in the wind

Knowing there would be no wage paid.

Just peace of mind knowing my city was safe

From the thought and feeling

Of stress and no escape.

Now the sands of time have washed this city away,

Yet I still can’t convince myself that I shouldn’t stay.

What was once in order, now in total disarray.

With only me left with a balance to pay.

The price of wasted time and irrational effort.

Misplaced devotion, an unsuccessful endeavor.

Energy that could’ve been invested

In a less temporary treasure.

None of my actions were driven by pleasure,

But by the dream of this city lasting forever.

However, nothing lasts. To believe otherwise is silly.

Still, it hurts to know that there is no more love

In the heart of this city.

Q.A.

Thought of the Day | 04.16.2019

As your endurance grows, so does your strength. The more you go through in life, the more you will be able to get through in life. And the more you get through only adds to the beauty of your life’s success story. Embrace the struggle because it is the fuel that will power you along the road to glory.

– Q.A.

Fool’s Gold

Money only means something to those who chase it. Those who possess it realize that it is only a means to accomplish desires. And the wise man knows that desires and things of pleasure are of utmost futility. Therefore, it’s safe to say the pursuit of riches is a fool’s race. The wise man pursues happiness, which cannot be bought or sold. But can be only be obtained and recognized by a gratified soul…

Seeds

Back and forth along life’s course…

I find myself lost again.

Searching for answers in a forest filled with weeds

Hoping to stumble upon fruitful seeds.

Or maybe, they will eventually find me.

But for the time being, I’m wondering what your mind sees.

Pondering what image of me you perceive.

The picture of perfection is what human desire brings,

But we both know those are merely a child’s dreams.

It’s no secret, my queen… I am covered with blemish like a hound with fleas.

Which makes me wonder: Am I really what a bride needs?

To be immersed in loneliness even when I’m right by your side?

The uncertainty of how to handle your silent cries will be my demise.

But I hear you, baby…

It’s just sometimes the noise in this forest drives me crazy.

Numb to what’s in front of my own 2 eyes.

Aware of what’s there,

Only to never have enough time to take an honest peak.

Instead, I’m too busy looking down at my size 10 feet.

Wondering how these dogs are able to support such a mess.

Never prepared for any of life’s tests.

Always attempting my best but to no avail,

Never failing to yield to stress.

The story of the young, Black American male

Through trial and error walking life’s trail.

Strikes tallied up prior to leaving the womb.

Systematically predestined for prison or an early tomb…

Fed a fairytale since elementary

About the benefits of school.

And if you get good grades, it’ll pay off soon.

But the only paying off I see

Is the debt toll from living the Rat Race American Dream…

Still. I search for answers through this wretched forest.

Feeling somewhat of a misguided tourist in a foreign land.

What’s worse is I don’t think anyone understands

What it feels like to be treated as just another grain of sand…

If this forest were a beach, I’d plant my feet, stand,

And feel the breeze graze my face with opened hands.

I close my eyes again and imagine what your mind sees.

While walking life’s course, in search of fruitful seeds.

Wildfire

Another rainy day in Louisiana…

How much water does this place really need?

Swamplands, marsh, gulfs, rivers, daily torrential downpours.

The heart of this place pumps H20 it would seem.

An abundance of life’s essential ingredient is hardly a bad thing…

But I mean, I could think of a place out west truly in need.

I guess that’s just life’s game. One goes without, while the other lives in excess.

A cycle that has been in existence since the beginning of time.

Survival of the most fortunate.

Maybe life has 2 circles instead of a singular.

One yearns for a miracle, the other has the single cure.

The yin and yang phenomenon shows it’s face, yet again.

The fortunate and misfortunate.

The former with nothing, the latter with everything…to lose.

As I sit and watch futile raindrops trickle down a glass window…

Whose authority is it actually to choose these rules?

As rhetorical as this question may appear to be…

I suppose life is merely a dream.

Is my subconscious taking me down a winding river stream?

Sharp turns, choppy waters. All leading to a penultimate waterfall.

The height of my expectations dictating how hard I fall.

Whether inside my punctured boat, or swimming freely immersed in the element.

Both have the same ending.

Engulfed in the vast stream, my internal wildfire reverts to clouds of steam…

How much water does this place really need?

||

By Quan Robinson

What is Freedom?

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You woke up this morning. Obvious, right? I mean, you are awake and breathing, able to read this. But how, exactly, did you wake up? Was it your natural internal clock telling you that its time to start your day? Was it a dream that ended abruptly? Or maybe, it was your partner’s arising on their side of the bed leading to your slumber being cut short. The possibilities of how one wakes up are quite numerous, now that I think about it. But through the myriad of things that could have caused you to wake up, the most likely culprit is your alarm clock. And the most likely reason for you needing an alarm clock (unless today happens to be one of your two weekly days off) is America’s infamous backbone, also known as the “9 to 5.”

Being an employee in America more often than not consists of logging an absolutely mind-numbing 40 hours a week, at least. This does not include the extra hours that many are forced to take on, in order to make ends meet. Substituting that amount of time for money is one thing, but also devoting every ounce of your daily energy to the pursuit of money that will be gone as soon as you obtain it? That, my friend, is a recipe for a long, miserable life. It appears the phrase (as you may have heard more times than you could imagine), “nothing in this world is free,” is open to more interpretations than just one. The 9 to 5 routine does not sound anything like freedom, in my opinion.

“Shit…” Yeah, we’ve all been there. “Ok, I’ll sleep until 7:38, and then I’ll get up.” Yeah, we’ve all been there, too. The worst part about this repetitive disappointment is that you more than likely don’t have a choice but to get up, get dressed, and engage in the same routine at your designated place of employment. What a frustrating reality. Ironically, our national anthem refers to this country as the “land of the free.” Does this sound anything like freedom?

Being practically forced to go to work for 40 hours a week, constantly wishing there was a way out, is not freedom. When people think of incarceration, they think of being locked down and told what to do every day. Being told when you can eat, when its time to wake up, and when you can go home. Every single day waking up behind steel bars, with no hopeful thoughts about the next day. This may seem like an extreme comparison, but is it any different from being on the clock from sunrise to sunset, just to have to do the same thing for 4 more days (AT LEAST) of the week? A set time of when you can eat lunch and when you can clock out? Have you ever gotten home after a long day’s work and said to yourself: “Damn, I cannot WAIT for my alarm to go off at 7:30 AM so I can sit in morning traffic!?” If you have, then I commend you for being the most curiously optimistic person that I have ever heard of. Odds are, you have only uttered the exact opposite. But what is the solution to such a common problem? Many rationalize the traditional work week with the fact that almost everybody does it. “Its the norm.” “Its life.”

The concept of freedom is foreign to many (almost all) Americans.  The very small percentile who possess the full understanding of this concept, consists of the people who pull the strings. Do you think your manager’s manager is pulling 40 hour work weeks? I highly doubt it. Or, maybe he or she is. The difference either way? They are not dreading the two week period between their next salaried pay check. The 40 hours worked by the average American do not equate to the same 40 hours worked by his or her puppet master. Being free means being able to do what you want, whenever you want to do it, because YOU want to do it. Can you, right now as an obligated employee, wake up tomorrow morning at 11:00 AM without any penalty? In any case, this would be rather unproductive, but do you have the freedom to choose when you want to be that unproductive?  Can you spontaneously tell your partner or spouse, “Pack your bags, we’re flying to Santorini for the week,” without first consulting anyone?

Being told what to do, living life how you have to live it, in order to survive and not how you want to live it, is not how life is designed to be lived. At the end of the day, everyone has to answer to someone at some point in their life. For example, everyone in this country has to pay taxes; that is absolutely nonnegotiable. The IRS is an omniscient authority and is to be respected as such, no matter how unfair or unbearable one may deem them to be. However, everyone in this country does not have to answer to a boss or superior figure for their entire life.

Granted, the experience, both personal and professional, that can be gained through such employment is very valuable for more reasons than one. But as with a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly, there comes a point in one’s life where he or she must break free and blaze a path of their own. A path that is absent of having to meet the demands of others but is solely designed for meeting the demands of one’s self. A path that consists of being able to embrace a life showered in spontaneity and freedom, not misery and bondage.