Untitled Because I Can’t Think of One

This isn’t about pessimism.

So, listen. As a Black Man in America, it’s as if I am constantly digging myself out of the rubble, brushing myself off, but never ridding myself of the offender. Racism, violence, threats, poverty and all the things that my community deals with, make me constantly feel like I should take shelter. I do not compare my life to war torn countries regions in the world. I mean, does anyone out there know what it means to grow up in a modern society (advanced this and that, tech, infrastructure), and hate it simultaneously? Does anyone know what it’s like to serve a country (military, etc) but the people you’ve sworn to lay down your life for, hates you and would love to see you dead or back in Africa?

Back to my intention for this piece. I am digging myself out, again, because of the Year that shall not be named (202_), Covid, Racial Violence streaming from the lowest office in the land, lack of sleep, unemployment, sheltering, weight gain, racism and the ways of this world.

The Ways of this World?

What does this mean (to me)? Years ago it used to mean me trying to be the best Christian I could be. Now, it takes on a more authentic meaning and description of how life is, or can be, I think. So, okay, umm, I have a new appreciation that saying. See, this time around, this chapter in my life, I own that saying. It’s mine, my way, of interpreting it. I don’t want to follow the flow of the majority, America or otherwise. I will define capitalism, joy, learning and love. I thing seeing the world turned upside down (again) made me wake up a little. I never had a normal way of life because I was always on (racial) edge. I’m pointing out (to myself) that I’ve never given myself the gift of self determination. Digging myself out of rut, out of the rubble, means shedding the things that one thinks can make you happy. The thoughts I’ve always had of a simple life-cabin (or container), water, one room, one bed, that whole minimalist life thing, you know, is my real life. My, umm, my destiny-destination. It is my small part in an infinite universe. I have a role, we all do (but I ain’t talking about y’all, shit). I have allowed my character to stay backstage. I be hidin and shit.

My approach from this day forward (from last March too, shit), will be as curator. When the wave of what’s popular hits the airwaves, the screen, I will turn my back on it. I, a Black Man in America am on a different frequency, but it is even time to switch that. Time to find another wavelength, a new aura, vibe, intelligence to regal myself with. It is paramount I reach out to the cosmos unknown and find the power in my reason for being. I am something. I am this or that. I am coming into my own. I am things I never thought about or could be. I am different because that’s the whole point. I am a discoverer of things outside myself, inside too, shit. I am rioting against white power, power structures, abuses of power, by turning my back on the ways of this world.

Written by Michael Allen, Escape Indie 2021. All Rights Reserved dammit!