It’s been a long time since I wrote something for others in the public domain that didn’t rhyme an average of three times every line. Maybe the flow is just so natural at this point that it comes out of me like waves compressed by my thoughts. Who knows? I certainly don’t.
My life feels like that of someone who has been there and back again. I’ve traveled to mount doom, smoked with the elves, ate mushrooms with the hobbits, flew alongside wizards on eagles, stomped trolls, ate feasts among cannibalistic warlords, done this, that, and the other thing. The Outer Spaces.
My imagination is unimpeded by the kind of lies people keep track of on a daily basis, I stand by my stance that White Lies cause dementia. I push hard for honesty as the guiding compass of my life and am able to learn and grow like children do. So often I’m surrounded by morose adults who look at the happiness on my face teetering between doubt and jealousy. Their impedance is an inability to falter or be seen as a failure.
The flip side of my independence is a kind of loneliness only a stalwart honest person can know. Lonesome Freedom is something I’ll always prefer to being in group of deceitful kindness givers, the kind who hear no lies.
Remaining real is a constant fight. The first music video I published, Black Lives Matter: Empathy, involved a story of me getting beaten, tased, and cuffed by the police – but I essentially got off with a slap on the wrist. My white privilege saved me.
For what ever reason I have a gift with poetry, and felt selfish writing only for myself. The prospect that my ideas and voice could help other people became strong enough for me to quit my job in software engineering to start my own video production company: Tweaked Productions. To broadcast ideas of a better world.
But how can I move forward void of conceit? I’ve accepted I cannot. Thank you for following my blog, strangers. Expect to see a balance of poetry and explanatory reason moving forward.