Five Seconds & Breathing

Five Seconds and Breathing

within the first five seconds of breathing

you will be introduced to pain,

life is an

open-handed slap on the ass

and some moments will be primed

for crying

times when trying to get past your own unknowing

will be a crawl, a stumbling

that very first fall

until positioning forward steps becomes

second nature

of course then,

the hard part begins

then you’re forced to take your innocence to school,

abandon it far more often than you should have to,

until by the time you’re supposed to make sense of this,

you’ll feel a bit like a misfit,

a little bit

lonely, more than a

bit out of place, as if

the music keeps playing and

everybody’s dancing, everybody’s

dancing but you,

you….the rebel without a cause,

still struggling to find your way,

they must have removed the clauses

from birth certificates that tell you:

in order to live, you’ll do a lot of dying

because

life is

a suicide, extended,

one long, choking breath that you

try your best to make last

for as long as you can possibly sustain it,

seeking the purest air in the form of love,

and you’ll break yourself in order to obtain it,

the next five seconds of breathing

spent holding your breath, exhaling….

holding your breath, exhaling….

until by the time you’re

old enough to know better,

you’ve already become fatigued,

of course, then

the harder part begins

they never tell you that, the older you get,

the more you’ll try to forget things you swore

you wouldn’t remember,

the next five seconds of breathing

always feel like the longest, spent regretting

five others, that always become five more,

missed chances stick beneath your nails

like dead skin,

old lovers rest like dirt at the meetings of your thighs,

your eyes become

caked with every bad thing you’ve ever been,

and no type of shower can scrub this clean,

but if you’re lucky, you’ll meet someone who

fancies Halloween, so they won’t be so wary of your

skeletons, and maybe they’ll

smile at you, just like February must smile at spring,

cold for so long but now blessed

with new beginning, and when they kiss you

listen to your heartbeat, decipher its lyrics

so that one day you can write them a song,

and when they tell you they love you,

swallow the words, to shield you from the times

you’ll hate yourself for no reason at all,

memorize the way they look at you,

life is unkind when it comes to reflections, and theirs will be

the purest,

hopefully it reminds you that you were

crafted by God, and therefore you’ll live to the fullest,

laughing together loudly, like God does, via thunder,

rumbling across everything each of you has ever considered joy,

treat this laughter like the Dead Sea,

dip yourself under it for comfort,

use it to heal,

so that in the last five seconds of breathing

you will remember exactly

how no pain

feels

[End Poem]

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 31, 2011

Shira E --- Wolf on My Back Porch

This song may be the most awesome song most people have probably never heard.  Has this Janis Joplin folksy appeal to it.  The singer, Shira Erlichman, is also a kick ass poet.  Multi-talented indeed!!!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

A Way with Words....

Crickets

Again and in the proper key, we are
The sound of a man’s back and the distance

That waits

And widens as he runs over us
Away from you, your screened porch,

And the glass of wine he dropped there,

Now a patch of splinters at your bare feet.
You could hurt yourself.  Be still

And listen.

There is no such thing as background music.
All day we’ve wanted this kind of attention,

But you were humming

A love song—then hoping to hear him
Sing the lyrics.  We wouldn’t dare let you
Out of the night without us.  Above us

You couldn’t even hear glass
Shatter, what you thought he held, broken.

—Jericho Brown

1 Month Down, I Need to Make Some Changes

So the first month of 2011 is coming to a close, and in order for this to become the year that I want it to be, I need to make some adjustments.  I need to write more, which although it sounds crazy to me, because I am constantly writing, I understand completely why I feel this need.  I need to write more, and more constructively.  I need to put in some more work researching publishers, agents, and resources available to unpublished writers.  I need to a more organized schedule for daily tasks as far as writing is concerned.  Almost a year ago, I finished writing my first novel, and left it at that.  But I don't want to be just another writer.  I have goals to accomplish.  Now I've just decided to work harder to achieve them.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 30, 2011

Sade --- By Your Side (Cottonbelly's Fola Mix)

Sade is fantastic. This song has always been a favorite. It has also been remixed by numerous sources. This is one of my favorite remixes, because it was created with fellow Nigerian born artist Fela Kuti. Sade + Fela Kuti = rhythmic awesomeness

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 29, 2011

Five Blind Boys of Alabama --- Someday We Must Bow Before Him

For those of you who may not be aware, my mother is a minister. My entire childhood was one spent growing up in the church. While there have been many times I have strayed from that path, I remain a firm believer in God, and salvation through Jesus Christ. Would I call myself religious? No I would not. But I am very spiritual person.

Regardless of belief, I do know that death makes us all wonder. Being the type of person who likes to know things before hand, I don't want to leave this world and be unprepared for what comes next. Definitely something that I think about.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Remembering the Good Times

I like to pride myself in being a strong person.  It is something that I feel is embedded in my blood.  I come from many generations of strong men and women, who have taught their children to be strong like them.  Earlier this week, one of those men passed away.  My uncle was like a second father to me.  He was always there to lead, guide, and nurture.  He was a soft spoken man, but his words always made an impact, full of wisdom, advice, encouragement, and love.  He lived by an example that I am proud to say I will follow for the rest of my life.  His presence will be greatly missed.

And while this time is hard, I know he's in a better place.  He no longer has to suffer with the worries and pains of this world.  I am just grateful for all of the memories left with me and my family.  We were blessed to know and love a remarkable man for many years, and the impact of that blessing will not only be felt in our lifetimes, but passed down to future generations.

This is what life is all about.  As we live, we touch the hearts and minds of those who we come in contact with.  We should all strive to be the best that we can be, not merely for our sakes, but to enrich the lives of our families and friends.

Embrace those who you love and care about, and cherish the good times while you have them.

R.I.P.  Franklin Jamison Sr.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Musical Ink: Lizz Wright - Hit The Ground

sing us poetic songs,
mesmerizing us with your lyrics,
let us trace the length of your melody,
locating the musical ink....

Lizz Wright --- Hit the Ground


I was reading something earlier this morning, that reminded me of how much I love this song.  I was introduced to the soulful jazz of Lizz Wright less than a year ago, but have certainly been a fan ever since.  Her voice has this rawness to it that can unhinge the tightest locks within our listening.  This song invokes that rawness.  The lyrics flood us, and make us hear.  And once we finally listen, it is a beautiful moment.


The lyrics:

Hit the Ground


Hit the ground, baby
It's alright now
Hit the ground, baby
Take your veil down

See your eyes in mine
Leave the rest behind
Hit the ground, baby
'Cause I want to love you now

Hit the ground, baby
I said it's alright now
Hit the ground, baby
You're gonna make it somehow

Baby, why so lonely?
The day has just begun
Hit the ground, baby
Hit the ground and run

See your eyes in mine
Leave the rest behind

Hit the ground, baby
Hit the ground and run
Hit the ground, baby
Hit the ground and run


------


I feel these lyrics in those moments when, upon thinking on giving up, I remember all those people who ever looked at me, held my eyes within their eyes, and silently reassured me.  I can make it.  That makes me gladly continue to run this crazy race we call life.  I feel like I have a destination in mind, and I won't stop until I get there.


Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

I Really Love Her Voice....

Meghan Tonjes singing a blend of "Hold It Against Me" by Brittney Spears and "Grenade" by Bruno Mars.  She is amazing.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

The Very First Poem I Fell In Love With

I, too

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow,
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

—Langston Hughes

Rare Groove, Jan. 28, 2011

Janelle Monae --- Without a Fight

Her sound is so very unique, as is her style and stage presence. Love the message of this song, which is usually central to her music.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Just a Bit of Randomness (Maybe)

Would have been cool to be in this conversation.....

Two very eccentric and talented ladies....I wonder what they talked about.....hmmm?

Erykah Badu is a long time member of my "all-time favorite celebrities" list, from her 

personality and style to all of the fabulous music she makes.  

Janelle Monae is 

quickly moving her way up 

the list of potential adds.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Shhh...

Jon Goode is a truly talented man.  And quite the poet.


There is strength in silence.  Most definitely.



Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Tonight Would Be a Great Night, If....

I could just make one wish....

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Trying to Move Forward, Hoping that Life Doesn't Charge Any Baggage Fees

I'm sure that we've all been there.  Comfortably trying to move from Life point A to Life point B, and then slowly realizing that the move isn't going as smoothly as it should be.  It's a weighted trudge.  It's a listless toil.  It's crawling progression, realizing that you've barely even moved.  And then it hits you.

All the baggage is holding you back.

It is too much to carry.  It is too heavy to push.  Don't even think about it.  Let it go.

Still thinking about that ex-lover?  Still wondering what life might have been like had you finished school?  Still nagging yourself about not getting that job promotion you really wanted?  Let it go.

We often wonder why we can't move forward in life, but the answer might simply be because we're still holding onto things that are behind us.  People that are behind us.  Places that are behind us.  And if we remember from the days of our youth, walking backwards might be an interesting game for a while, but it's a good way to fall on your ass.  Forward minded equals forward moving.  So, it's time to let it go.

Stack your ex-husband, previous fling, old job, jealous former friend, depressing town you used to live in, negative self-image, prior transgressions and lingering past sins, in a figurative suitcase in your mind, and then ship it all off to Forgotten.  Move on.  Discover what it is that makes you a happier, better you, and then strive to be that person.  Quit looking back at all your past mistakes as enabling ways to stop trying.  Quit making the same old excuses.  Becoming stuck in the past will only waste present time.  How is that going to help mold the future?  It won't.

I finally shipped off my old baggage today.  Already, I feel the load getting a bit lighter.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 27, 2011

Donnie Hathaway --- For All We Know

If this song doesn't make you envision the true possibility of love, then I don't know what will. One of my all time favorite songs. Had I been able to love like this, I wouldn't have disappointed a handful of truly remarkable women.

Perhaps, maybe one day in the future.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 26, 2011

V.V. Brown --- Shark in the Water

I am so in love with V.V. Brown's voice.  And this song has that Amy Winehouse vibe to it.  Which makes it all good for me.  Plus she's sexy as hell...lol

ah, the joy it would be to be that chain string belt thingy....

lmao...perhaps I've said too much

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Musical Ink: Iron & Wine - Passing Afternoon

sing us poetic songs,
mesmerizing us with your lyrics,
let us trace the length of your melody,
locating the musical ink....




Iron & Wine --- Passing Afternoon

I remember watching that episode of House, M.D., when Amber dies, and really enjoying this song.  The sound is so stirring, and the lyrics are amazing.  Had to include it here.

The lyrics:

Passing Afternoon




There are times that walk from you like some passing afternoon 
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon 
And she chose a yard to burn but the ground remembers her 
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms 

There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days 
Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made 
And she's chosen to believe in the hymns her mother sings 
Sunday pulls its children from their piles of fallen leaves 

There are sailing ships that pass all our bodies in the grass 
Springtime calls her children 'till she let's them go at last 
And she's chosen where to be, though she's lost her wedding ring 
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds 

There are things we can't recall, blind as night that finds us all 
Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls 
But my hands remember hers, rolling 'round the shaded ferns 
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned 

There are names across the sea, only now I do believe 
Sometimes, with the windows closed, she'll sit and think of me 
But she'll mend his tattered clothes and they'll kiss as if they know 
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone



------


Such a poetic song.


Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

A Poem Deemed Worthy

The Music of Me

a sestina

they are words on a page, and all that jazz,

high trumpet notes that ease away my blues,

like notes on a staff, I instrument these lyrics,

passionately, they play me out like a symphony,

ink stained crescendo, that vibrates against my soul,

they groove, to a carefree rhythm

but at times, I find myself just trying to keep the rhythm,

they become a chest cratered wail that drowns out my jazz,

mood bebop, a beat box that breaks against my soul,

the deep bass line that incorporates my blues,

emphatically, they echo life’s bittersweet symphony,

I cave against the pressure that springs from these lyrics,

because there is blood, sweat, and tears deep-rooted in these lyrics,

they mirror match the knock of my heartbeat’s own rhythm,

and at times, when I feel like Schubert’s eighth symphony,

they complete me, retuned, like improvisational jazz,

like the ghetto knows cages, they understand my blues,

gospel notes scream from the pages, “it is well with my soul”,

and I can feel them embedded deep within my soul,

like God placed them here when He wrote out my lyrics,

rainbow covenant, after the flood, my reds, yellows, and blues,

like a dove in the distance, they are my most peaceful rhythm,

bringing rest to my stress, syncopated like jazz,

I feel them pouring out, a splash of notes in my symphony,

but even Beethoven couldn’t match odes of joy found within this symphony,

a heaven-sent staccato bop that clings in the reaches of my soul,

where I am craftsman to the ink; and they coolly scribe Miles across my jazz,

that move me to delight, until each of my smiles become these lyrics,

each of my hopes ring through these words, all of my dreams played out in rhythm,

and I can hear them, distinctly ringing in me, just as Billie could hear these blues,

so no holiday, no vacation, whether melancholy grey, or sky lit with bright blues,

they are a gift that God has lent to me, and as conductor, I’ll direct their symphony,

uniquely crafted, well polished, using message as their rhythm,

hoping everywhere I send them, they are felt down in the soul,

wholeheartedly, like an angel’s whisper, I hope my pen leaks out these lyrics,

so they become something far greater, like my own poetic jazz

these words on a page,

rhythm, blues, and all that jazz;

my soul’s symphony.

[End Poem]

Oh my gosh, this was difficult to write.  I've been trying to write a sestina for a long time.  But I am so proud of myself for finishing it.  I chose to go with a haiku as the envoy, because it just seemed to come quicker than a tercet.  I love different forms of poetry, and this is perhaps the most difficult fixed verse form there is.  So hooray to me!!!  Hope you all enjoyed it.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Reminds Me of Moments with Friends

Poets Hitchhiking on the Highway

Of course I tried to tell him

but he cranked his head

     without an excuse.

I told him the sky chases

     the sun

And he smiled and said:

     "What's the use."

I was feeling like a demon

     again

So I said: "But the ocean chases

     the fish."

This time he laughed

     and said: "Suppose the 

          strawberry were

               pushed into a mountain."

After that I knew the 

     war was on—

So we fought:

He said: "The apple-cart like a 

                broomstick-angel

     snaps & splinters

                             old dutch shoes."

I said: "Lightning will strike the old oak

     and free the fumes!"

He said: "Mad street with no name."

I said: "Bald killer! Bald killer! Bald killer!"

He said, getting real mad,

     "Firestoves! Gas! Couch!"

I said, only smiling,

     "I know God would turn back his head

     If I sat quietly and thought."

We ended by melting away,

     hating the air!

                                                                —Gregory Corso

Feel Good Music, Jan. 25, 2011: Theme Song of the Day Edition

Finally getting a new playlist together.  This list contains all the songs I've used as my theme songs.  Hope you enjoy.

Hope to post another playlist next week.  Enjoy!!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 25, 2011

Urban Species ft Imogene Heap --- Blanket

Is Imogene's voice one of the most haunting in the music industry? I believe it is.  This song makes me picture interesting black and white scenes inside my head.  It's a great feeling.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 24, 2011

Yes, I know this should have been posted yesterday.  Let's just say that day was spent procrastinating in massive proportions...it is past, and I'd like to forget that I got absolutely nothing done.




Keri Hilson --- Beautiful Mistake

I love the lyrics to this song, and while listening, can't help but wonder how many of my ex's sing this in their heads to me....lol.   I'm working on myself.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Just a Bit of Randomness (Maybe)

Just one of those commercials that makes you feel really good.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

My Muse Bought a Train Ticket Out of this Dump...I Wish She'd Come Back

(I'd like to begin with a shout out to Ms. Sass over at words with sass, for inspiring this one.)

I keep waking up to the same old things, scratching my head, and wondering what I'm doing wrong.  There's all of this greatness right there within my reach, but for the life of me, I can't get more than just a few fingertip scrapings.  I keep waiting for that spark or that flash, that'll get everything rolling again.  That moment where everything will only make sense, and then suddenly I'll be one of those people smiling, like in all of the great Coca-Cola ads.

If only it were that simple.

There seems to be something missing.  The fire, that burns within and makes me strive for daily greatest, could use a few extra coals.  My personal life is static electricity, currently experiencing a major outage.  My writing...ugh!!...don't get me started.  My 'muse' bought a train ticket out of this dump.  As of right now, it feels like a one way trip.

And yet, I still find it hard to panic.  The optimist in me still sees all of the potential.  I know that with a few alterations, a quick tuck here and a couple of snips there, then it'll be back to that fabulous life I've always envisioned myself leading.  But as my mother and sisters can tell you, I make a terrible seamster.

So I patiently wait for that 'it' to come back, the driving force that will carry my life from the dull to the unique.  Perhaps it is already with me.  Maybe I just need to focus on noticing.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 23, 2011

Nicki Minaj --- Save Me

A lot of people give Nicki Minaj a hard time.  Sometimes I'm one of them.  But I must say that Pink Friday surprised me.  And this track is one reason why.  It shows a must more dynamic side of the eccentric performer.  It's well written, and has this mellow hip-hop/techno/pop vibe.  Something you can actually listen to without shaking your head negatively.  It's song like this that make me thing there's more to Ms. Minaj than meets the eye.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Seek and You Shall Find

So my computer has been through a lot.  But with the help of my brother-in-law, it's running like never before.  Which makes me ponder...sometimes thinks may look dire.  It might look like a situation has no hope.  But there are moments when, when you seek something better, it finds a way to appear.  I laughed a bit about my computer crashing late last night, even though I was disappointed.  I looked for the bright side.  Eventually, it found it's way to me.  Here's to always trying to stay positive.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Looking for the Bright Side

(This post is being made from somebody else's computer.....)

I only mentioned where I am writing this, because it's relevant to the post.  About 3 hours ago, my computer crashed.  It wasn't one of those normal, power-flickers-off-and-then-jumps-back-on, subtle kind of crashes either.  It was a "holy shit, is it supposed to make that noise?  and why won't it come back on?" type crash.  I surprised myself with how calm I remained.  I decided I'd calmly check out the inside of the computer and make sure nothing was wrong.  Big mistake.  Immediately I noticed what was wrong.  Let's just say that video cards aren't supposed to go in like THAT!!!  So then I was worried that I'd managed to fry my sole soure of sanity and connection to the outside world.  (Okay, maybe that's an exaggeration, but only slightly)  The point is, after 2 hours of frustrated hunting with a flashlight, unplugging and replugging and unscrewing and rescrewing, I finally gave up.  But surprisingly, I still wasn't upset.  I released a gentle sigh, and thought about all of the good that has come from my computer.  I remembered all of the hours writing, watching movies, listening to great music, surfing the web, and just generally getting away.  After that, I couldn't feel bad.  Besides, now I have a reasonable excuse to get a new one!!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

This Should Make You Reflect (Awesome Repost #12)

I'd like to thank Amir Sulaiman for continuously presenting things that make my mind delight with wonder. This video was filmed in the Redwood forests of Humboldt County, in northern California.


Growing is Forever from Jesse Rosten on Vimeo.

"...it is not easy to grow so much, for so long..."

I focused in on this line, because it, like much of the video, paralleled the growth of mankind.  We could still learn a lot from the natural world around us.  There is a resiliency in growth, that often takes more patience than most people are willing to put in.  Some trees take decades to reach their maximum height, and others even longer.  It discourages me that many people, myself included, are resistant when it comes to giving a minimal amount of time and effort that will add up to maximum growth in the long run.

"...it was very quiet, all the time, because the trees needed to focus on their lives..."

I was really affected by these words.  As a constant and, at times, very loud complainer, I took from this that sometimes in order to grow, I could use a "just shut up" moment.  Stop complaining so much.  Stop getting so caught up in everything negative, and positively focus on my life.  Mankind should take note of this as well.  Growth takes being silent and focusing, two things that we are historically notorious for neglecting.  200, 000 years in existence, and modern man still hasn't grown beyond war, violence, discrimination, and hate.  Sounds like a bit more growth must take place.

"....growing is forever, they whisper."

So very true indeed.  May we continue to try to grow, into better people, living better lives, in a better world.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Because We Could All Use The Extra Love (Awesome Repost #11)

(Must say that I am upset that YouTube no longer offers the color choice when embedding...those blue borders matched my blog perfectly...lol...but oh, well...)

This little bit of awesomeness is courtesy of SusuanaLoves You :) (one of my favorite blogs).



Lucy & the Cloud Parade --- Love Yourself

As the song says, "be who you'll be....no need to change...love, love yourself..."

I think this is something that most people find hard to do. We are all so stuck on the physical. And we all seek others to validate us. But I believe it is important to first start with self-love. Understanding that you are beautiful, simply because you are, is the first step to accepting love and reciprocating love. So right now, walk in front of the largest mirror you can find, smile at that beautiful reflection, and yell as loud as you can, "I love me!!!"

Didn't that feel good?!....much love from me to all those people who love themselves. Continue to be your most beautiful you.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 22, 2011

Maiysha --- Sledgehammer

Although I think some songs get covered far too often (this is not one of them, but it's close), I have fallen in love with Maiysha's voice. Looking forward to getting her next album.  And no offense to Peter Gabriel, because I really like the original, but she does add a certain flair that I doubt he could create.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Just to Say Thanks

Good evening, world!!!

As I briefly mentioned, my computer has been having some technical difficulties, which I have spent the entire day correcting.  I definitely missed posting today, but hopefully all will be fixed in the next few hours.  Looking forward to some more great posts.

As always, I am extremely grateful to all of you, who take time out of your busy schedules to enter into my world.  You make all of this possible and relevant.  I'd just like to say thanks.

Much love!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Going Out

A friend is trying to drag me out to some undisclosed location.  Part of me wants to go, and the rest wants more details.  I just don't want to end up somewhere that makes me wish I would have stayed home...lol.  But, then again, I could use an interesting evening.  Hopefully, I don't regret it.

I'm pretty sure we won't be here...lmao!!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

For the Young Kings, Somehow Still Alive

Most Young Kings 

most young kings get their heads cut off,

dethroned, in these streets, where the blood runs off,

but the blind won't see, how the dead get drug off

it is hell, in these jungles where death is the cost,

a martyr if you die, surviving means souls get lost,

lose-lose situations, here where evil never sleeps,

eyes see much sorrow, so they barely notice peace,

and getting trapped is the thickness of the concrete deep, 

where darkness is a backdrop, and the vines steady creep,

they'll trip you, they'll grab you, they attempt to pull you in,

here where caged is a mind state and there ain't no fucking friends,

just fellow soldiers, understanding that to reach the other side

it'll kill a bit within you, you got to walk with steady eyes,

got to learn to see through constant lies, learn how to rehabilitate pride,

use the barbed wire to cut the chains,  and know everything broken ain't ready to die,

most young kings get their heads cut off,

once embedded with a pain that just won't wash off,

so now beheaded and stained, they die amongst the lost,

and those watching never think about

the cost, never think about

the tears their brothers cried, words of wisdom not applied,

we never shared them because we felt like they would fall on

deaf ears, but maybe he's listening, and maybe he's watching,

just as afraid as the others, that death will come knocking, 

and his windowless hope lies in the gun he keeps cocking,

because it's the only way out he's ever been shown,

all the other exits come equipped with a distraught mother's tears, 

body identifying, and a box shaped just like all her fears, 

liquor on the pavement from men who try not to cry, 

the broken spirit of a child too young to understand why,

most young kings get their heads cut off,

dethroned, in these streets, where the blood runs off,

red, we wonder why they seem so filled with anger,

because we watch them run with knives and never bother

explaining 

the danger

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 21, 2011

The xx ---  Crystallized

Stumbled across this yesterday.  Love the way their voices sort of depend on each other.  Interesting group with a cool sound.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

I Love a Good Discussion

Bill Maher is not exactly one of my favorite people. He too often comes off as an elitist who never likes to be wrong.  But I do like him because he isn't afraid to speak his mind and gives an equal platform to many people who other shows would exclude.  Here is a great discussion between him, Dr. Cornel West, and Mos Def, about terrorism.





Mos Def is not only hilarious but brings up several great points. Personally, I feel like even if Bin Laden was responsible for 9/11, there was also a government cover-up that will eventually come to light. And I'm not talking about all the things we've already learned about, or hear rumors about. I imagine something much bigger. Or maybe I'm just paranoid too.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 20, 2011

Mos Def -- Six Days (DJ Shadow remix)

This is one of those "get me prepared for weekly battle mode" type songs. Too often life feels like a war....but I'm ready to fight forward and survive!

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Where are the Geek Squad Guys When You Need Them?

This is literally driving me mad!!!  My computer is having some technical issues right now, so that explains my lack of posting today.  I'm actually using the on-screen keyboard because mine is fried, and Windows doesn't seem to want to recognize the one I'm trying to replace it with.  So currently I'm a bit frustrated.  More great stuff to come as soon as I get this working.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Because I Love Seeing Where Inspiration Comes From

The statement that art inspires art is such a powerfully true statement, and I believe this video shows that well. I love Jay-Z as an artist, because I think in spite of all of his accomplishments, people rarely look at his artistic vision, even today.  The artist that he speaks of is Jean-Michel Basquiat, an amazingly talented and charismatic artist, whose impact was far reaching, though often goes unheralded.  Tragically, he died of a heroin overdose at the age of 27.

"Most young kings get their heads cut off..."

This is such a forceful reflection, that sadly still rings true today.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Rare Groove, Jan. 19, 2011

(Had to go back and add this....computer issues prevented me from posting)




Maiysha --- Wanna Be

To all the Res fans out there, you should absolutely love this woman!!! Her voice has that same level of uniqueness.  Her sound is that same mixture of unique styles.  This song just bumps inside your head.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

Alive

Alive

we enter this world,

seeking the answers,

walking in steps

to find what lies ahead,

we travel in lines,

cross over bridges,

roll up and down hills

just to do it all again,

comings and goings

now coming full circle,

seeking a thrill,

in the newness of it all,

inhales and exhales

let us smell how fragile,

how beautifully insignificant

we sometimes become,

it is here that we find our power,

realizing we are deliberate,

even in weakness,

and this makes us strong,

so we stretch understanding,

feast on its reaching,

dig fingers and toes

into each of our breaths,

learning that the secret

doesn’t dwell in how to live,

the secret, is how to die

without regret

Unwanted Prescription

There's a bottle that sits on my dresser.  Inside, there is one pill.  I keep it, as a physical reminder of someplace that I have been.  A few moments ago, I saw that bottle, and I had to express this.

For many years, from the time I was about 21 years old until a little less than 2 years ago, I spent most days thinking that there was a very good chance I'd have a seizure.  Between 2001 and 2008, I estimate that I have over 40.  Some of them, I never even told anyone about.  From the moment the doctors first decided that it was an unexplained condition that I was forced to live with, I tried my best to make myself believe that it didn't bother me, in the least.  I wasn't scared and wasn't going to let their diagnosis keep me from living.  But I was lying to myself.  The first one scared the hell out of me, and each successive one made me feel like my future would be filled with pain.  In the beginning, I was very bitter.  I kept asking why it was happening to me, and got upset when anybody tried talking about it.  I didn't really like to mention it, because in my mind, this made it real.  (Even though waking up in the Emergency room was constantly making it real.)

I hated taking medication.  At first, they had taking 6 pills a day, but eventually this was cut to 5.  There is something very depressing about knowing that you're doomed to take something for the rest of your life.  It feels like a death sentence, whispered in hushed tones.  And the feeling caused by so much medicine in my system sometimes felt worse than the so-called sickness it is supposed to make better.

On top of all of this, I was continuing to have seizures. So what does a seizure feel like?  I've heard this question asked so many times and first it used to make me angry.  Now, it simply makes me laugh.  To me it's like asking a paraplegic what's it feel like to not have legs.  NEWS FLASH, it damn sure doesn't feel good.  But I now at least understand the curiosity.

The best way I can describe it is to tell you to read this:  On Seizures

Basically that's what they feel like.  Or at least for me.  The feeling is this weird, scary separation feeling immediately before, and this "Humpty-Dumpty" aching and need to be put back together again feeling immediately after.  The feeling in between is like a literal void.

A little over two years ago, I stopped taking my primary medication.  I decided I didn't want to anymore.  I had 2 more seizures after making this decision, but it is one I will never regret.  People who have have to taken mood altering medications for years will understand me more than others.  It's been a little more than 5 months since I last took my secondary medication.  I decided that I didn't need it anymore.  Even though I'm no doctor, I feel like I know my body better than them.  I can admit that there are moments, when something odd happens in my mind and my old natural reaction, to panic, prepares itself.  But quickly, I calm myself down.  I remind myself of the one fact that made me last through each of them.

It'll never be scarier than that first one.  And, through the grace of God, I survived it.

Knowing that, I can smile, because I know that I'll be fine.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet

On Seizures

This is probably something that my mind has been waiting for me to write for a long time.....

On Seizures

there was always this moment,

just before it happened,

when I knew that it was coming

but I couldn’t think to run,

a train, full speed, with a foot stuck

on the tracks,

picture disappearing, or

slowly coming undone

there was this taste

I imagine it is like tasting Death

that taste just hits the mouth but

doesn’t really have a flavor,

instead it feels like

time is unwinding,

tastes like darkness,

feels like

all hope is being

swallowed, and then

the first shudder comes

it starts in the mind,

doors closing, windows slammed shut,

cords being yanked from the wall

as if I know the power’s going

fuck!!!

brace yourself…

think of something….

hurry up!!!

fuck!!!

think of anything….

think of something else….

and just as suddenly as I notice

that I’m arguing with myself, in my head

there is another shudder,

heart steady pumping, until

the mind becomes

a black hole

I wish I could recall what the shaking really feels like

what the pain really is, as my muscles would spasm

beyond my control,

but I was too far gone to feel them

and only reminded of the pain

from the occasional cut or bruise

I can’t really picture Death,

but I’ve been to nowhere,

that empty slab of nothing when

body is suddenly cut off from mind,

it is hell, without lights or sound,

a torture without a name

coming back always seems like a task

and it feels like part of you

somehow stays

waking up will make you think of survival

I used to marvel at the first time stares

of witnesses too shaken, trying to decide

whether laughing or crying

would make me feel better,

they would always say get up

but they couldn’t feel the

invisible weight,

they’d ask the questions that they

thought made sense,

like my name, my location, the date,

sometimes, I couldn’t answer,

the headache after was always

a new kind of pain,

getting hit by something that

remains unseen,

there was always an arm that

wouldn’t lift properly for a while

as if still trapped in that

mental sling,

slow motion recollection

as short term memory loss

became long term reflection

and I always wondered

just how much of Death

had I seen

it’s been years now,

I don’t get so anxious anymore,

though a part of my mind

always thinks about the last,

and if it’s really over, or if another one

is lurking,

somewhere, where the thoughts

move too fast 

I am Everything, and I am Nothing

Earlier, I mentioned a little blog cruising I was doing today.  Another interesting post caught my attention.  This one comes from C.Hope Clark....who is also mentioned on my page, Rare Genius: The Blogs I Read.

Mrs. Clark's topic was What I'll Miss in Heaven, which really made me think.  I remember once upon a time, when I contemplated death and the afterlife, I used to become nervous and physically pained.  Mainly because I was thinking about some of the same sentiments that Mrs. Clark discussed.  But I eventually was able to move past that, deciding to focus on the present life now.  I'll worry about the afterlife when I get there.

Which led me to think about present life, and how we sometimes get caught up planning for the future or worrying about the past, instead of actually existing in the moment.  But in order to exist in the moment, there has to be a comfort level about doing so, which few people rarely achieve.  It seems like even those with massive amounts of wealth are constantly contemplating the future or dwelling on the past.  And if they can live in the moment comfortably, how can I?  Then something hit me....


I am everything, and I am nothing.

Very interesting words, and powerful, to say the least.  But what do I mean when I say them?  First of all, this is not some clever metaphor.  I mean these words in the most literal sense possible, although it is sometimes hard to grasp concepts as broad as everything and nothing.  Okay, so let's break it down.

I am everything....

Sounds like I'm being full of myself, but that's because I am.  I'm not trying to anger anyone here, but I am the center of my world.  Now before someone emails me a list of scriptures that I've probably already read numerous times, this is not in anyway an attempt to belittle God.  I am a very spiritual person, who deeply believes in God, and therefore gives the utmost respect and acknowledgement to my creator.  But the purpose of me saying that I am the center of my world is in terms of all of the physically tangible aspects of it.  The people around me.  The animals.  The plants.  The trees.  Buildings.  Lakes.  Mountains.  While these things are all wonderful in their own respects, they are just additions to my world.  They cannot define it.  I must define it.  I must choose the people I invite into my world.  I must determine the places that I'll go to.  I must decide what things I will do.  In essence, I am the gatekeeper to my world.  This is not to say that I don't believe God sometimes sends things or people into my life that I have no control over.  I believe this happens, but it is up to me how I receive it.  (Admittedly, sometimes I've dropped the ball in this regards...but another post, perhaps.)

The purpose I am saying that I am everything is to understand that I do have the power to positively affect my life.  Hell, it's mine.  I should have that power.  But I've fallen victim to the same thinking that I'm sure has trapped others.  We see something in our lives going negatively, and immediately we begin to feel powerless.  "I guess it's just one of those things I can't change...."  Why does everything bad always seem to end up in this category?  It's because we so easily forget to remind ourselves of the fact:  "I am everything..."  Which means I don't have to stress about my future.  It is simply waiting for me to mold it.  And the funny thing about dwelling on the past is the one reason we never admit why we're doing it.  It's not what WE think about our own past that really bothers us, as much as what OTHERS might think about our past.  But embracing the "I am everything" half of the statement renders other people's opinions null and void.  Suddenly, their opinions don't matter so much.  At least not like your own.  In your world, you are everything, because it starts and ends with you.  So yes, I am everything.

But I realized that with only this half of the statement, there is so much realization that goes missing.  Enter the second half.

and I am nothing....

Notice how there is an 'and' in here.  Most people will tell me that I can't be everything AND nothing at the same time, but these people are simply limiting their thinking.  In my world, I am everything.  But in the grand scheme of things, I am nothing.  In the fabric of time, I am merely a blink, an instance, a moment that will eventually pass.  In order to fully value life, I must understand it is limited.  We all know that we are going to die, but few of us really embrace this fact.  I think this is because we feel that by embracing this, it accelerates the process.  But that's not true.  It can also serve to force us into a reality where every second matters.  If every moment of our lives begins to count, this is how we'll end up living to our fullest potential.  In the grand scheme of things, I am nothing, because I am fragile and will eventually expire, but in my world, I am everything, and therefore have the unlimited power of making every second of my life count.

Even if it's simply by inhaling deeply, and being thankful for one more second of breath.

I am everything, and I am nothing.  And for me, that's a beautiful thing.

Marcus Jamison, the Rare Poet