Manufactured happiness is the antithesis of truly being at peace with myself. I smile when I feel like it…I cry when it’s called for. I’m not a fan of faking the funk!
I write when I have something to say…vs. merely writing to simply say something.
I’m currently trying to navigate=a once comfortable, all of a sudden complicated, not so sturdy ladder…while attempting to retain the essence that is ME. I’m also trying to balance my few steps of fundamental flaws while leaning against a wall of unexpected uncertainty.
My wife, and daughter, have my back as I move forward… I’m not afraid to lose because I know, with their superior support..my foundation, that might face failure, will always win…by remaining solidly standing behind me.
Despite ALWAYS respecting the once promising, yet limited space…provided by someone else’s plot…where I’ve allowed myself to be comfortably planted…more than ever…I now know=I need to GROW in MY own field.
I will determine and dictate my future paths…instead of simply being the page they were previously printed on…pretending to point in my ‘best’ direction.
I’m going to wake up tomorrow morning without worrying about a crazy motherfucker attempting to substitute his thimble-sized manhood with the barrel of a gun that kills our children…his fellow students…those that truly teach him how to learn.
I’m going to shit…shower…and shave myself out the door with my college degree…guaranteed to land that entry level job over the dude that just finished high-school five years late…because he served a little time in the joint.
I’m going to stop hearing insane and broken arguments from shattered minds that insist that our current president is illegitimate…unworthy…incapable. Barack got Bin-laden, now…he buried one of the most important individuals involved directly with ISIS…surely ALL of my fellow Americans will wholeheartedly support him-Yeah, good luck with that!
I’m going to see the end of the prison complex that habitually houses the unnecessarily ruined lives of those caught with a rock vs. those caught with a mile-high pile of powder. I’m going to see the lives of unarmed human beings running away from the law, be held in the same light as those that choose to run towards it…armed as a profession. All lives matter…right?
I’m going to see the false followers of Adam&Eve reject their hypocrisy formerly directed toward the destruction of the happiness of Adam&Steve.I’m going to wake up to normal weather patterns and growing glaciers that don’t threaten to join the backyards of Alaska with a plant on a front porch in Atlanta.
I’m going to take on tomorrow…perhaps, full of shit, because I choose to believe in the positive potential of ALL humanity…Just don’t wake me up until I’m ready to stop dreaming.~Daryl~
Send them off to die for a fucking lie
What’s left of our heroes headed home needing help?…only the word Why?
They believed all of U.S. “Supported” our troops…
Only to SEE “hearings” that proved they were duped
Gave everything they had… to have our backs
Only to realize…once home
They were really the ones under attack
Corrupt politicians hide in houses made of glass
Refusing to throw stones at their own shattered ceilings while posing as bottom feeding asses
Leaving American Dreams forgotten and buried in a pile of OUR heroes ashes~Daryl~
Motherfuck the maniac Prick Cheney…Much disrespect definitely intended!!!
I was only 5-years-old, but I remember the song below playing on the radio when my mother had a cookout July 4th,1969. I also remember all hell breaking loose as 7:30PM suddenly became midnight because of a monster storm that blew in from Lake Erie. Noah Ave was filled with broken branches, leaves, lightning bugs, and backyards that turned into ponds. When Smokey sings-this vivid memory brings me right back to a house that will always be my home.~Daryl
I’ll always be more concerned with folks starving to death in our own alleys vs. the military agenda of ANY allies abroad. We don’t need to keep paving someone else’s road while allowing a crack to become a crevasse on one of our own.
We live in the greatest country in the world, yet we have this persistent bowel obstruction, posing as a legitimate Congress, that would rather vote to fund the study of camel flatulence in a fucking desert with no name faster than providing food, shelter and the slightest glimmer of hope for those right in their own backyard. We will approve giving someone else’s army millions of dollars, but deny housing and healthcare for our own soldiers when they return to a reality of being fucked-up forever, because they were deceived to believe they were fighting for SOMETHING…as they gave…and lost EVERYTHING.
It needs to be more about”JUST-U.S.” concerning our own alleys vs. those of our allies-We have no choice, We HAVE to get it right!~Daryl~
Back in the day=No Gray!!!!-1980. Have a great Thursday EVERYBODY!~Daryl
We have people begging in the streets for scraps of genetically modified food while politicians who helped put them there in the first place argue about an unlivable, unacceptable “minimum” wage. Conservative&Liberal scumbuckets preach diversity and inclusion yet we witness the “Breaking News” of an interracial High-School prom in the sticks of The “New South.” Whether it be Newtown, Chicago, or Kimlyn Circle in Akron, Ohio, we continue too witness unnecessary gun-related violence escalate beyond the limits of reasonable tolerance.
What do many in our society want to focus on? Who’s zoomin who in the boom-boom room.? How big will Kim’s ass continue to get before her and Kanye bring a baby into this world?-only too be raised in a most certainly, single, soon too be parentless household-Can you say Nanny? Massa Media is not only the medium-It is massaging our society, as a whole, into a catatonic state from which we may never awaken. Never liked being massaged much, because I’m far too ticklish.~Daryl
Bitch Ass Wiggas need too take a step back
Adapt to the
Fact that you aint Black
Can’t erase the tracks
Of Brown…accidentally showing…pants barely hanging above the ground.
Colored draws couldn’t hide your flaws…from a moment of pause
Skidmarks of racial resistance inflame your existence despite your insistence
Being down with “Jigga” still don’t make you “My Nigga”
Nothing more than a Bitch Ass Wigga! ~Daryl
I woke up this morning due to Stanley once again elevating my entire body above the limited height of a most plush mattress. As I approach my 50th year on this planet, Thank God Stanley is still able to stand and steam. Stanley from 25 years ago, felt the need to literally iron his way through as many female folds as possible. Driven by hormones, he felt the compulsive desire to “straighten them out.” Today, Stanley still stands, but his position points high, in a most positive, one-way direction. Respect, Love, and Loyalty, have remained and reigned in Stanley’s veins for over 20 years. Instead of being prone to point in multiple directions, Stanley, at almost 50, still stands proudly, firmly pointed, and planted, in the most important and uplifting reality of life=LOVE!!!!!!!!! ~Daryl
Some of my first memories of growing up on Noah Ave. permanently occupy a space in my mind…no less relevant than many of my adult experiences, nearly fifty-years later. I remember being carried down my parents driveway, and being transferred from the protective arms of a Ohio National Guardsman, into the familiar grasp of my hard-working father, Paul Robinson. He was called home from busting his ass at ONE of his two or three jobs, working the graveyard shift at B.F. Goodrich, due to a riot that had its nexus on streets and avenues named Raymond,Wooster and Edgewood. It was serious because my mother, Minnie Mae Robinson, was the type of woman who could more than hold her own. The widespread violence that held The Rubber City hostage for nearly one week began on July, 17, 1968.
Although I was two-months shy of turning five, the vision and smell of tear gas filling the air and my innocent lungs simultaneously, are still as palpable as a memory from yesterday morning. The Wooster Avenue Riots represented the pent-up angst of not only the Black community of Akron, Ohio, but the entire nation. The assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr.– and Bobby Kennedy in 1968 represented the tipping point of tolerance that had already been encroached upon with the senseless outright executions of JFK(1963), as well as Malcolm X(1965).
Daddy came home from work that night, because neighbors and law enforcement believed that someone had tossed a bomb behind our garage and the neighbor behind us. I remember the fear in my normally fearless mothers eyes, when the Akron Police Department showed up, along with men covered in military camouflage. It was real, it was bad, and most of all, I still remember.~Daryl (Edit help by Ms.Veronica Johnson)