I Don’t Even Know What to Fucking Write

I’ve published 61 articles on this site

Most of them have to deal with music or my life.

I have other articles dealing with setting/achieving goals, and not accepting what IS simply because of what has been.

My goals have included being more of an open book that chronicles my journey from modern day slave to master of my own time and will.

This shit is a process.

One of my goals on this journey was to both chronicle my successes as well as my struggles.  I feel too often people only like to boast about their accomplishments while burying their failures to give the image of some sort of strength or false superiority.  Shit just doesn’t work that way in real life.

Every single person I know – EVERY single person – is either going through some absurd shit, or has been through some absurd shit that has helped shaped them into the person they are today.  Hell, there are many others that are going through MULTIPLE absurdities at the same damn time (shout out to Future) trying to juggle everything like spinning plates.  But the wrong move – a sneeze, a gust of wind, seeing  a picture of Macy Gray – and the whole thing comes down.

It takes a lot of energy to keep up that kind of act, yet that’s the life many of us lead.  All the while trying to maintain your composure long enough to make it through another day.

I currently have over 20 articles drafted in queue

So I TECHNICALLY have stuff to write about, but none of them fit my current mood.

I actually have good post about Mitt Romney coming up and how he’s actually teaching us a good lesson with his terrible campaign.  That’s the article I SHOULD be writing right now, but can’t.

My mind is elsewhere.

I’m spinning plates and losing steam.  So my muscles get tighter because it’s up to me to keep this shit up.  No one else is gonna step in for me.  I accept that.

Doesn’t necessarily make it any easier though.  I endure.  Most of us do.  Others crack.  Others cope until they crack.  It still has to all be worth something though.

I could use a shot and some good sex.  Not regular sex – good sex.  The shit that reminds a person why they do ANYTHING in the first place.

Instead, I’ll get a fussy baby and a chance to go to work to waste some additional time in measurable behaviors to ensure I make a certain amount of profit for the shareholders.  Another set of plates.  Can’t let ’em fall.  Spin ’em with a smile my face.  Yes’r boss…

There’s a better way to live.  There’s a better path I can show.  Unfortunately, at this point in my life – with so many people that depend on my ability to spin plates – the only way to get there is by taking on more plates to spin.

And I’m tired

But that’s what’s gonna make my day that much more sweeter.  In spite of what I wanted to do, I’ll know that I’ve done what I needed to do to earn my freedom.  And fuck you for ever looking down on me when I get there.  ‘Cause by the time you know my name, you’ll only see me as an arrogant success.  You’ll have no idea of the struggle that came with it.  So fuck your judgment.

I’m gonna get there anyway.  Are you?

If the answer is yes, then keep spinning those plates with me and we’ll be so foolish one day.  You and I deserve everything we’re willing to work for and towards.

FOOL – ISH.

Screw YO’ life, son. I’m coming to swim in the sky got-dammit.

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3 thoughts on “I Don’t Even Know What to Fucking Write

  1. I wrote this poem in 2009. Even then, I often felt overwhelmed by life and pursuit of my goals, while trying to maintain some measure of sanity. Struggling to meet my needs and responsibilities while dealing with everything the world dumped on me. Each day, as I continue to press on, I feel that increasing weight on my shoulders. And still, I rise.

    Weight of the World

    is it my destiny
    to carry silently
    the ails of society
    the pains of family
    the injustices of humanity
    with simply
    a smile?

    am I the savior
    everyone yearns for
    to relinquish their burdens
    so they find salvation
    and I stand in silence
    quietening my emotions
    with a smile?

    how do I press on
    my knees buckled under the tons
    of anguish, of despair
    of hurt – does anyone care
    to be there
    or do I just continue to wear
    a smile?

    how do I alone
    deal with my own
    when the world beckons me
    to tend to their needs
    constantly, tirelessly
    and still thanklessly
    I smile

    with the weight of the world
    crushing me
    bending me
    straining me
    breaking me
    and I can no longer breathe
    please

    who will rescue me
    in my time of need
    to just provide some relief
    from the world’s insanity
    give me just a moment to stand free
    to simply be
    and smile

    • Damn – hol’ up. Really nice piece, man. And really appreciate you sharing it.

      I truly believe people are more alike than we are different. Our struggles are similar simply because we are human. There’s a lot we’re expected to simply carry on our backs and not expected to speak up about. I feel this is our vice – especially in the black male community. The struggle is real, and like you, we need to acknowledge it.

      “who will rescue me
      in my time of need
      to just provide some relief
      from the world’s insanity
      give me just a moment to stand free
      to simply be
      and smile”

      This is where I’m trying to get most of us. Myself included.

      Great piece. Thanks again – that’s wsup.

  2. Pingback: Can’t Save the World | isomKuade

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