theLeftAhead

Writer’s Note: I don’t know if the following is a rant or a poem or something in between but I wrote it in New York City while ingesting the malodorous, beautiful smell of smog and gazing up at the colossal concrete redwoods as they competed for a glimpse of God. So whatever this writing is, I was inspired to abandon constraint and explore a lack of boundaries for my words…

  For Mom We give thanks to fall When summer’s warm breeze finishes with a sharp, cold edge We give thanks for oranges, yellows, crisp browns Weathered browns too After all, green is but a state of mind We relish the crunch of fallen leaves beneath our toes It’s a cool drink of water for our feet We give thanks for endless views so majestic Surely God painted them Snow…

All We Got – Condolences to Patrick Beverley and his family. The Rockets shooting guard found out about the passing of his grandfather an hour before the tip of Game 4. He proceeded to hit the first shot of the game, a three from the elbow, and set the tone for the entire night. In a game that was eerily similar to Game 1 in San Antonio, the Houston Rockets…

  Peep the Instagram filter beaming through democracy’s cracks In the streets we’ll learn to fly until we take our ladders back He’s shredding rights like that This neophyte like that In the dead of night like that Sound jurisprudence Such a nuisance When banning acolytes like that #resist the lies, #resist the fear, #resist the megalomaniac #resist the slow drift asunder into darkness’ frigid black He’s building walls like…

Under the weather, flying over the clouds, My manic energy is an airborne and haunting disease That railroads my patience and snatches my equanimity Like a free safety who gambles to shoot the gap on a hunch. Acutely aware of the cabin’s pressure, I’m left pacified dreaming wistfully for ignorance’s bliss. Barricaded in my window seat, I’m separated from the darkness That doubles as my compulsive instinct for movement. Sweltering…

For Brian I guess these moments are painful now Eyes watered in these moments now Like chopping onions in these moments now In these moments now, it burns. Our bond reverberates endlessly in the echoes of Expand Your Mind Déjà vu bottled and stored like vintage wine in a cellar of souls Aged in inferno, climate controlled to blister and scar the skin With every instinct beckoning to leave, it…

Bullets beget bullets Bombs beget bombs Winter is never over Climbing higher Mount Certainty Reaching out for purer air Tree line blurred in the distance Pausing only to rest on laurels Looking down on tranquil canyons Echoed sensibilities offend Uninterrupted by sacrifice To be this high To have this view Stubborn knuckles hardened further Grander heavens scaled faster still No ropes Support not needed This is too noble a pursuit…

Starin’ Through My Rear View – The Miami Heat lead the San Antonio Spurs in the NBA Finals five to four after coming into the AT&T Center last night and stealing Game 2 of this year’s series 98-96 in front of 18,581 properly cooled off Spurs fans. My fear coming into last night was that the Heat were capable of stealing Game 2 by forcing the Spurs into committing an…

Californication – Last night, an irrationally unsettled Scott Brooks played Russell Westbrook 45 minutes in the Oklahoma City Thunder’s 105-92 victory over the San Antonio Spurs in Game 4 of the Western Conference Finals. Midway through the third quarter, with the Spurs down by 20 points, Gregg Popovich pulled his top six players and let his third string play the remaining 18 minutes of the game. After the Spurs bench…

  Ward off the cold’s day virus with the warmth of my will Give me a Texas death sentence for everyone that it kills Keep my motives locked up in the frailness of the chase Chase the sacred moments that I keep at a thoroughbred’s pace Trace the steps of synchronization like a bowling pin on the swivel Cross my game over, like it’s luck, with every ankle breaking dribble…

Alone in a raft of contumacy Paddling in an ocean of apathy Throwing out the net. Droplets of salt water Burn the eyes as passers by Forge ahead with unwavering focus. Stubborn discipline in rhythm “Our boats shall not be rocked.” One by one Tunnel vision. Two by two Impermeable banter. Four by four Impervious rancor. Approach, reproach Then rescind into the distance. Keep surveying impatiently A connection within oar’s…

  Justice is a musket Primitive and rustic And which ever way you thrust it Them instincts getting trusted This shit stinks I’m disgusted From the missed winks It’s corrupted To the chain links System’s busted So these sentences Constructed Off a few kinks Fingers dusted When the hood sinks Like a bucket Here’s the hoodwink “Kill ’em, fuck it.” ________________________________ Black and white. No gray. Written July 2013 in…