ambroseblack

[ambroseblack]

Floating between trees while the birds sing like bards around me.

Hot summer breeze with golden sunshine filtering through leaves of green. Pearls on the necklace that gracefully rests on the breasts of this marvelous earth.

So beautiful. Perfection and bliss that I often miss because I'm driving too fast through life. But when I stop and reflect, I know I'll never forget that the joy I need is always waiting outside.

Another rhyme. Another poem. Why do the words always sound like a song?

I'm a bird in the tree. Ceaselessly singing. One day I'll spread these wings, and through the air I'll start believing that what I always needed in life was my song.

[ambroseblack]

I try to pretend like this isn't reality.

But it is.

Lives stolen and hung up in trees like dollar store kites. Discarded for being born in a suit of a different color. Black like funeral attire.

This is reality.

Uncomfortable notions of division only enforced by synchronized greed. Hate extinguishing revolution. Because hate is the guard that holds the keys to the cells. And money. An endless vault of slavery and mind bending skills making people think they are in the club. But they aren't. Just pawns used for more kills.

This is reality.

Where religion calcified over the years is used as the stamp of approval on what freedoms and stances we can feel to be truth. Where we are told what is right and what is wrong. Free will stolen. All of us children locked away behind bars. If this doesn't scare you, I don't know what will.

This is reality.

Dissolving away before our eyes like sugar in hot water. It hides the bitter taste stuck in our mouths. Dry from all the years of mouth breathing and following in line behind leaders who don't care.

I hope it all fucking burns.

I hope we can take back reality for ourselves and consume those who have kept is in their deep pockets. May our tables be bountiful. May our stomachs be filled.

Time for a new reality.

Watch the old one fall, and the new one rise up from the earth.

[ambroseblack]

I called it fiction because I thought it was.

Escape from time and place. New universes. New faces. Not even realizing I was leading myself back to within. The places I forgot were there. Stories and emotions that I had hidden away. Buried under the bed and wrapped in dirty paper. Like a precious jewel in the attic; lost within the boxes of a time that once was.

I hid it from myself more than I hid it from anyone else. Pretending it wasn't there. Afraid of losing everything I loved and love. A cycle of hesitation leading to a state of ceaseless emptiness. A glass longing to be filled with water.

Quench my thirst. I long to be filled. I long to be me. Whatever that me is. I just have to be free.

Unwrap the worries. The fears. The grief. Let the jewel refract the sunlight.

Let me be...

Me.

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[ambroseblack]

Sometimes I write in that space of time between being awake and asleep. Word sort of bubble up in my head, and I've been trying to capture them before they get lost. So...here is a look at last nights venture before the sandman had his way with me. Enjoy.

Spilled out.

The universe circles and entangles the hypnotic probes of my unsuspecting mind like hot irons on soft hands. It hurts to the touch even if divine. And I am just a lost sheep wandering all alone with a mouth full of hate and a lack of submission. Questioning.

Where the fuck is my throne?

Eyes barely open now. Typing without looking. The looming souvenir of a seemingly lack of ambition, except that heavy weight is all I really have to hold.

Sand between my fingers falling down at my feet. Not knowing if the words even mean something beyond chaotic visions between you and me.

Lofty goals and sacred dreams all substance of hesitation. And longing. And waiting. Waiting for what? The world I guess. Getting old while it passes me by. Hatred towards the recognition of my whirlwind torment and creative nature. Should I laugh or should I cry.

Body heavy now as I drift deeper into slumber. Who knows what else will spill out? Hot soup on the counter. Trying to spell the letters now.

You don't know me. Or maybe you do. But you don't. You might think you do. But do you even know you? Because I was thinking about myself while I lay here on the carpet. Looking at him from under the table. And I thought to myself, "who the fuck is he? I'm not even sure if he is stable..."

But stability enrages the darkness in man. Not man as the genital, but man as the species. I guess I could have used the word person. But it doesnt change a thing. Stability makes one think everything is fine until the rug is ripped out from beneath the feet. Chin hits the concrete and you can't stop the bleeding.

Spilled thoughts on some soggy sheets. Ethereal visions between you and me. And it doesn't even matter how hard it may seem to remember the point of validating the rhyme and the beat of some poetry spun. I'll keep spinning away until my story is sung.

Or hung on the drying wire outside of grandma's house.

But that house is long gone. Memories torn to shreds. Hit to the back of the head. Explosion. Yeah, I'm already dead. Not to sound repulsive or dark, but the reality is he is long gone, and I've been here waiting for you to let him depart. Because he's rotting away in the skin that we share. He wanted to go, and now I'm here. Don't be scared.

You already knew it was true but you wanted me to say. And stay. But believe me when I say it, this is a brand new day. The whore is long gone.

Long live the king.

Because these are just words caught up in the gale of dream storm.

Good night.

Sweet dreams.

[ambroseblack]

Her eyes like closed curtains.

Heavy from all the years of hurt.

A window shut to the sunshine.

Questioning what she was even worth.

Her smile has been lost for years now.

Cracks have formed above her brow.

Atleast her mind is quiet.

I hope she's happy now.

When the moon sweeps away the sunshine we'll begin to fade. And yesterday becomes yesterday. All those cares blown away.

When our life finds it halt in stillness, all those worries are washed away. And yesterday becomes yesterday. All those stories sung today.

He wonders if it's worth it.

Take the shot and always fail.

Be the man he wants to be.

Fall on his sword and be impaled.

Because what if she doesn't notice?

His arm outstretched for her.

Instead he'll hold his feelings.

It's easier than being hurt.

When the moon sweeps away the sunshine we'll begin to fade. And yesterday becomes yesterday. All those cares blown away.

When our life finds another chapter, there are so many unknown ways. And yesterday becomes yesterday. All those stories sung today.

Keep moving on with yourself because tomorrow, who knows what it brings. Take the shot, and if you miss atleast your tried to live your dream.

That's your truth.

Keep being you.

I really do.

Hope you're happy now.

[ambroseblack]

[ambroseblack]

It was cold here this winter. Frost stuck in my bones. I trapped myself in a box of doubt just trying to stay alone.

The thermostat has been broken. Stuck at thirty degrees. And because I'm drawn to anger, everyone always leaves.

But when spring comes and the leaves bloom will I know what to do with myself? Will I open up the windows and let the winter out?

With the grass green and birds chirping will I notice all the bloom? Or will I trample though all the fields I'm drawn to? Or will I stay stuck in my room?

Spring can be my open door.

I've gotten used to myself. And that smothering darkness I've learned well. It's like a heavy blanket that I cling to. It's scratchy on the surface, but it's a feeling that I know. And knowing what you know brings sick comfort even if knowing what you know keeps you cold.

And change brings uncertainty. And uncertainty brings change. A cycle of expectations lost. Day dreams, even if deranged.

So when spring comes and the sun warms, will I let it hit my face? Or will I shrivel up by myself and whisper the lie "I'm ok".

When you call me and ask me if I need anything will I give you my honest response or keep lying through my teeth?

Spring time can be the answer to my cold.

Spring can be my open door.

[ambroseblack]

While we bitch and moan about being stuck in our homes, you are sprawled out like lunch meat on a steel tray in the cold. All because you were being. Darker skin crushed by bigots with no feeling.

“But not all white people are racists!” We say.

But all those with deeper complexions know reality of a different way. Can’t step outside without a sinking feeling of fear and necessary rage. Sure, not all of us white folk have white sheets hanging up in our closets, but all of us know that our lives are safer, even if we don’t want to call it.

And I can’t even begin to understand how much it hurts to see another life lost to the desire of hate’s sin. Because I have a different skin, and so does my son. But I know bullets shot into his flesh would reveal the truth pumping through the veins reflected in the sun.

Blood runs red no matter the print on the cover.

Your life was lost because fools never bother to look beyond themselves and the hate built up in their bones.

But we’ll just continue bitching about being stuck in our homes.

All your memories are gone. All your dreams will never be won. Feet on the pavement in the land of the free, but freedom is an illusion in this land of bigotry and greed.

Another life lost to a war that seems to never be over. Ahmaud, you were worth more than 30 pieces of gold or silver.

And we can cry for justice for the sake of your life. But we know that no justice can be won to bring you back to this side.

I don’t want you to fade away into the darkness of history gone. People need to see what is really going on. See the hate in the eyes of those who lack substance in their brains. Tear them down and take them away. Because, honestly, most of us want peace. And for those who don’t, I hope they burn up in the fire even if it is started by me.

To you Ahmaud. May you never be forgotten. Memory eternal, my beloved.

Now let’s make sure there is some kind of justice in this land forged on the backs of all those who suffer and continue to suffer.

Revolution and resistance, it seems, is truly the only way.

I hope for peace and love. For you and your family. May the tears move into action. May we take back the world that has been stolen away.

[ambroseblack]

[ambroseblack]

Being that my preferred Chinese restaurant has been temporarily closed for over a month, I have decided to create a series of nonsensical fortunes to ease my longing for General Tso's and paper wrapped in a strange cookie jacket.

Thank you. Come again.

[ambroseblack]