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