Messologist

I am a hopeful enthusiast by nature and a Messologist on paper.
I lose my mind a lot... Like twenty-four words before this dot.

Motivated by everything moving. Soon as the sun drops I raccoon and go thief in the night with no plausible purpose.  I go scheming side by fright, ignoring the plight-fear fawned fervent.  See my memory sucks. Not good head.  I'm a mess. Yes. So my bad memory sucking turns to  good head, like my English.  Let me explain you.  If I foster a fear or few they flail freely as fast as I can flash my lashes. 'Cause I forget they're there.  Unaware I fly back in flames, speak in public, bite spiders back and my heart flutters and sputters and I'm wild with wonder, like huh? "Oh, forgot that's what I was scared of." I'm a mess.

I'm a mess.  Got more goals than Judas and Brutus got foes. My dreams screen in threes like Kringle's Ho's. Gotta keep both of those close....  The steps I chose or path, rather, lather my swagger. Soaped up on hopes like dope, coked up and full of enthusiasm.  Hope-spazzing outbreaks like rashes break out in spots. Scratching the surface and multiplying nervous like surging  Gremlins drenched in water. When I feel this real, this tone becomes thrill and no benadryl can seal the will.  Walking around spot, spot, spotted up.  Flow rich with ease now like bot bot bottoms up. So now there's me: the hopeful enthusiast, with a ration of rashes and my hands transform to cymbals, I'm clapping and clashing.  Applauding the cause all before  I take one step forward. My futures fuming or is it steam?.  Breathe. In. Second hand smoke ills and contact drills. High and coughing, hungry and choking. Stuck in a rash, in a flash I got here, stuck. Feet set.  Way more steps then rights and lefts. I'm a mess.

I'm a mess. I confess, its less Fresh than jest. Me at my best is less rested than suggested. Moving three ways at once...triple-headed monster. Miles and miles on Tonka. Everything improper but I love it. Feel my best and most productive. Head spinning like dradles, rock and rolling like cradles and bagels. From dusk to dawn...spawn creativity, feverishly. Dawn to dusk, do what I must between the cubes and on the cusp of upper management. The head that leads after dawn is the "what I must." And he needs 3 alarms and Good Morning America, and 10 minutes before late as God knows what before he's up and rushed.  The head that leads at Dusk is the "what I want.". This channel prescribed by viral opportunism.  I think I cans turn to dos. Hobbies leave behind Hansel and Gretel type clues and I pick up the pieces like Hustleman on the gazoo.
Third head minds me past dusk and through. This head's up to its neck with desire. Through the wire we conspire how to feed this earnest flame. Play mind games with visions like Rock, Paper, Scissors.  Scissors: cut it down and remove the excess. Rock: building, constructing tunics of strength. Paper: reap and collect after the steps are addressed. All three heads bob and weave but this the one that I root for indeed.  Be just my rabbit's foot if thee were the one? approached by the Big Headed Queen in Alice in Wonderland, dealt with decapitation and forcing desires resignation. While less would be the sum, yet and still two heads are better than one. I'm a mess.

I'm a mess. Yes, and I am quite certain. A professional. It's credible that this method won't lead to sensible ends. But losing my mind got me this far and I contend with the best of men.
Hopeful enthusiast, Messologist till the end.

Two-Thirds

C.J. is....  The balance of my aspirations. On your mark, get set, go for my motivation. Lead eagle that sets the standard, as the rest fly by, Coupe de Ville or CTS- Jay places the bets and all ages follow close. Those who suppose his dose is purely verbose shall feel the Wrath of Khan... Subtle charm, wit equipped, the 2 starter and new found "Watcher". The balance of my aspirations. No closer blood. No bond the same and the stars bear thy aim. C.J. is eternally at my side.... Brother of mine.  

 

Rhakeem is... My template for passion, pigskin passing, pencil-prowess, bird showers, graffiti sketching, Ralph Laurenning, lady charming, garment donning, punch throwing, Bible toting, Hip Hop connoisseuring, Thundercats and Transformering, baby raising, BX behaving and then.... He is the perfect compliment to my father.... Pop gave me the birds and the bees... sigh, Rhakeem gave me the hawks and dragonflies. He is a 2-liter Pepsi cola drinking, KFC bucket of fried chicken eating, worse smelling farts in history, ever, leaving. More so than me, the human reason why I'll be who I'll be. Love you to death. Love you through death. See you when I see you.

Peter Rhakeem Warren, Big BROTHER twice, Father and Son thrice, big brother a million times.

Sunrise: March 23, 1975 - Sunset: December 18, 2008

Inspector Gadget

Not really fighting crime or saving lives, just sharing time and parts of mine.

I met her through a friend so there is that added level of respect. I try and keep the convo filth-free and that made her comfortable with me. She's quiet but not the sneaky kind...borderline shy.  Never asks to go out, partially due to the shy I thought at first. Working on her master's and slaving at work for the master gets the worse of her. So instead of a movie or night cap she just wants a nap. That's nothing but cooo to me cause I'm just cooo breezing, coasting on peace.  But I am a guy and she's a girl at times and when she requests me its company for the night. She comes in pajamas, full set with a lock and key and all she asks of me is arms for the night. So I get her text around nine and gauge the activities from then to pillow time. I accept. Next text, "I'm here" and for dear, its go-go Gadget arms and she's knocked out before the lights are out. Clear!

Next subject was object of my affection for 13 months or so. She and I weren't supposed to get close but sips turned to gulps and eventual overdose. She had nothing but dark in her past and anticipated nothing but the worse from my grasp. So when I made a mistake it was magnified eleventeen times. She said she painted me too perfect and had me on a pedestal so when I stepped on her toe I might as well have amputated her soul. So I spent as much time as we were good apologizing to get myself back in good. But it never happened. We were opposites. My memory for bad never lasted but hers stayed fresh, close and she blasted it every time she wanted to love me back. Fast forward from our past. We speak and can be human at times and I've grown to be her confidant. Says I know her the best and accept her faults, so when she does wrong and is dying of remorse she calls me, repeatedly. Only for me to remind her that she is more sweet than sour. Happened the third time this Spring and she came back to life. So I get her call with an "I love you Reggie", few tears and apologies, the story, the regret, we turn mountains to boulders and its go-go Gadget Shoulders, reflect her beauty, shine and shimmer, go-go Gadget Mirror.

Cereal Killer

The corruption of my life's circumstances causes my conscience to hold me under arrest.  I read my rights, denied the 5th now I must get something off of my chest.  I am a Cereal Killer... in jest.

I've put to rest numerous victims.  Each time I beat the system.  Never a drop of evidence.  Eyewitnesses never willing to exhale what their eyes witnessed.  So many times I lost count.  Never hesitated to go through though, never a doubt.  I am perhaps the most magnificent mass-murderer of all time... or the worst.  I guess it depends on your eye.  Not one survivor, ever.  Never left not even a piece of one.  Nothing left to identify the slaughtered, not one single crumb.  I do not feel bad that I took away so many lives but remorseful that every mouthful just makes me hungrier each time.  For each life that I victimize I want seconds.  Even when I have no weapons my bear hands prove deadly.

I started at a short age.  I think I have my parents to blame.  They supplied me the catch of the day until I was wise enough to catch my own prey.  I remember my first... Mom sat me down at the table and put me on.  She said she was waiting for this day since I was born.  Told me that when she was a Young One she'd slaughter for fun, but no longer had the desire to chase.  So she sent me out in the wild in her place.  I wasn't even two blocks from home when I spotted my target.  I was in the zone.  Took my prize from two old Spanish men.  I almost devoured right there in the open but I took it home.  Needed to show Mama my little token.  I squeezed and then pulled it by the head out of the bag... dropped it right there on the kitchen table and Mom leaned over and asked If I could share my first with her.  So I prepared her place mat.  My first weapon of choice?  Sterling-silver teaspoon.  July 12th, 1988, about a quarter past noon.  Twenty-five ounces stood right there in front of my face and if I'm lying I'm flying... I killed every last one of those Frosted Flakes.

From that moment on, my life was never the same: breakfast, lunch or dinner, those golden Frosted Flakes of Corn were the dish I called my main.  Everybody that knows me knows not to become between me and Tony Tone.  I will fight you, I might bite you.  Just stand aside and pass me a bowl.  Because.. this man is a Cereal Killer, a thrill seeker, milk drinker.  I am a bag tearing, flake eating, spoon toting, vitamin-d needing.  Give a loud crunching, lip smacking, milk slurping, tongue lashing, until the bowl is at its end, caught the last crumb, sipped the last drop and played with the toy that comes.

These savory, sugar-sweet, honey-golden, fresh Frosted Flakes, crunchy corn-kissed by Caribbean sugar cane, give great jubilation when I crave them.  And can't have?  I grow so angry and so mad.  It's bad for you to see me like this...Oh but then I find three dollars and seventy-five cents.  Shop Rite? You DAMN right!  Aisle seven has grown to become my heaven.  I grab the golden flakes, walk across the floor that's golden paved, out the pearly gates to my sanctuary of dining satisfaction.  Oh, the milk sees the bowl in attraction.  The spoon as if magnetized swoops down to the bowl without asking.  Then "choo-choo" the locomotive enters the tunnel, log into the computer.  How I chew ya, Hallelujah!

As long as the earth spins on a tilt, as long as my bowl's filled.  So long as I have at least one cup of whole milk... I will destroy these Frosties.  I love them so much I, I can't explain.  It's not a crime.  They're so good.  As a matter of fact... they're grrrrrreat.

143 Degrees

I don't love hard so when she did it was foreign.  Didn't see how it started I thought she was robbing- me turned out she was just Robin to me, wanted to rock fully with me. I cape crusaded and she sidekicked with me but like I said before I don't love hard so when she did I was gone.
Not yet in the flesh but she lost me every where else. The way she felt I couldn't see truth in the melt, all cheddar. She wasn't herself and I couldn't see her getting better. She wanted everything for me, even the things we knew I  couldn't reach. Her speech leaked 143 degrees. Her "one four threes" used to be mad sweet, now the inflection in her tweets turned from treat to trick. Thought she was trying to be slick, scoop and uproot my a from lone to cquainted. She wanted to be with me, by me, do everything for me, confide in, believe in, dine with, sleep with, lay with me, pray with me, sony play with me, all day with me was all good with she as long as she was with me.
Now I figure me to be a cognitive he, fully coherent, observant, patient with time and can justify any crime.  But none of she, how she was now could make any sense to me now.  This she, that she be, was the complete opposite of the she that was initially presented to me. She was bad and she knew it, rather curt and prudent.  Her time was precious and she let me knew it. She was heavily desired and didn't feel like choosing. So I was the pot of noodles always in hot water, on the back-burner chilling while the meat was getting burn and every moment with her I had to earn. Her game was to make me wake she wanted to break me out of my cool and see me uncouth without sophistication or smooth. Right. So we got to where we was because... I was honest about my buzz and she let me burn in the front. But we were miles from there not sure how ;) and her love got too hard for me to cogitate now. Too dense for me to intellectually break down. Way too layered for me too think out. Needed a black belt or blue axe to fully break it down.  It just don't make sense. She wanted all of me right now and later on. And she'd want my past if it wasn't already gone.  I loved her back but at my pace. She knew I wasn't going nowhere and if I did she'd be in that place. But with my love I tried to be very sincere. Never wanted to appear counterfeit or unreal. If I meant it she saw it on my sleeve. If I didn't mean it she wouldn't hear a peep or feel a beat.  And that was all I was willing to be capable of. Didn't matter she took me and my shoulder shrugs like she was hallucinating off a potion worse then drugs. She'd joke around and call it voodoo but I'm no D'Angelo, maybe just my transversalis.  But abs don't last and her love sounded like forever. It didn't make sense to me so it reverted back to infatuation to me. Maybe its the thought of what could be or some elixir-surged fantasy. Either way... little me can't be loved this hard deservingly, possibly.
So she loved hard and I was gone. First my mind, then the heart soon parted but flesh held on. She had to be the one to let me go cause her clench was so strong. I couldn't just break away. And still till this day, I think I keep all forms of love away. Square up my guard just in case they turn hard.

Don't take it personal.

Personification gives anything life.

 

If Heaven were a simile she would complete my sentences perfectly like a cloud completes the sky in imagery.

From head to toe her clothes would expose beauty same way as a window captures the day.

Like veil to a gown her crown starts me off right, effectively, efficiently and always capitalized.

Ever so delicate she takes my predicate and likens it to amazing grace.

She commas my faults like halts in stirrup…. pours the subsequent like syrup, slow, sweet with a shine.

When I’m stuck or empty, Heaven has at least a semi; the perfect compliment like Hall to Eddie.

When I’m ready, Heaven is there , she lifts me high like this exclamation here!   She calms my curiosity, curbs my query like? Yea.  So elegant and simple, bold as she begins Heaven sets my sentence like, properly to an end.

I would give you Hell only if he were a metaphor.  This dude... I swear.

I don’t fear much but I’m type shook thought up in his presence.  Hell, he is part measure, no... he is all of the nevers you kept away from.

Only if Hell were a metaphor would I let you come.  That’s the only way he’d be desirable… 'cause if I gave you Hell, the metaphor, he would be more of a dark, passionate statement then eternal damnation.   

Hell could be the only way to express your disdain when preceding a “no.” Or if you’re an older black man, Hell could stand alone….

Hell, the cartographer, forming direction, the most helpful being when vernacular’s missing pieces, “What the Hell?” gives crisp, decent pleadings.

If I could advertise for Hell it would sell like hell: “Go to Hell for desire!”, “Metaphor for Hire”, “More than just fire.”

If I gave you Hell the metaphor, and you paid it forward, audiences would love you for it….follow you close and adore, revere you like never before.  Liken to King Leonidus when he gave the Persians Hell and before he and the 300 fell he promised them “Tonight we dine in Hell.”  And they all danced and yelled because the metaphor meant way much more.

If I gave you Hell… you’d probably thank me for it.

Personification gives anything life... metaphors or similes the like.

Speaking of the Devil

I had this conversation with the devil. This dude was pretty cool not at all as I assumed. From the things he had to say I didn't think he was at all as he's portrayed... in the pews or on TV cause he was for the most part encouraging me. He asked me how my week went and I usually am not the one to vent but I was humored, slightly enthused by this event so I *humidified, loosened my tie and with that some pride...

We're standing on the platform at Simpson waiting on the Brooklyn-bound 2 for a minute and he sees me eye this chick that walks by I lowered and shook my head, "yea she looks like trouble," he said.  Son?!- in more ways than one... I'd name her sin and then have her committed. Kill her with my charm I will, she'd say I was *Roberta Flack and Lauryn Hill. I'd seek to impeach her grief and dissolve the maul that remained from cornballs.  I'd *Urshter it all until she was *Babyface and Weezy. Whether on the couch or sea she'd *Aaliyah with me and then if *Kem... then I'd might have to *Lil Kim cause its all fun and fine till it comes to the *Gyptian. 

And the devil, he, understood me perfectly.  Was nodding and smiling as if apparently... he'd been there before. So I asked if he had and he goes "The scantily clad... always roaming through the Garden and even if I'm not looking per se I can't look away.  I don't even keep my ways hidden I straight up offer them something forbidden and they start biting and I get real trifling as she's eating out my palms. Of course it isn't right though but so? Who cares cause it's *Geico."

Told him that's pretty evil and he gave me the straight face. Said "I'd do the same if I was in his place," but I told him my intentions are always good and I wish all of them the best but just not with me or at that moment I guess. So he tells me "I need to take those moments and proceed, live in them and satisfy my needs." He said "me trying to be nice to the broads won't hold weight for the cause, because if I don't bite it'll be another dog."  Said "I might as well just get mines because I only get one life." Sucked my teeth slightly and told him he had a point. "I know I do, been doing this for a minute.  My best trick is acting like I don't exist. See Reg, you considered everything I said before we had this convo and after we depart it'll be you that's all responsible and I'll be an afterthought and you'll do what I said but not because you heard it from me but cause it was just in your head."

Dude was quite slick, gas tank full of wit. Asked me if I had a knife cause he was about to cut the cheese. I died. Asked me if I had a light, I said "No Lucifer it's 2010.  You haven't seen the anti-smoking commercials apparently."

He informed that people will anti anything.  "If there's a cause that is dope for the moment the masses will most likely *Tonto with no pausing." Devil goes "Yo, I hate to admit but y'all are a bunch of gullibles. Don't need a single fact, but always ready to react, start marching and protest but listen close I got something to confess: You know how hard it is for you folks to convert one soul, or to avoid temptation? I incited a war on terror off mere speculation. I do most of my work with one hand behind my back. I take the highly religious and throw them a lustful vision and they become so enlightened, can raise a church and then a hyphen as in 'Pastor hyphen Pimp' or 'Priest hyphen Predator.' I take three Inepts longing for reckon and you have a 9 hyphen 11.

And with you Reg I win every time you justify your sin. Saying if its only one commandment you don't heed then that's okay cause you're human and have your needs and the flesh is weak and all the other hypocriticismness you bleed." Bite me. 

"You know... I've been selling success at extremely discount rates to get to people like you who are never content in their place?  Because it's so cheap and there's not a place nowadays you can't find it, you people buy it and buy it and are levels above what you were. But because you know how much more success you can have you beat the hell out yourselves, call it 'grinding', it’s bad. I used to sell depression but it cost so much more to manufacture, now I sell you success and you find depression on your own way faster."

Whatever man, there's always perils in wealth. I'll buy your success and encourage myself. He goes, "that's wassup, and how long do you think that will last?” Told him I'm good with mines and trouble will always pass... "Word? So your impenetrable faith didn’t drop a notch or three that night your Big Brother didn't wake up from his sleep?  And you of all people believed that he had gotten the farthest he'd ever been from me. You two were so cute with your long distance relationship. Fight through sinful missions, regretful

imprisonment with quotes and scriptures, man I was ear-hustling I know how much you loved him.. Tell you something you didn't know about him, he was just..." Hold on, that's my phone... speak of the devil, it's my Homie Jesus.

So me and my Strength *Xscape for a few, he reminds me of my tattoo, ask if I got the grace and mercy he sent me too, you know... just checking up on the dude.

"Peace God." and we hung up....and I can't front, the devil had my ear, all that talk about me being a hypocrite and buying success was closer to the truth, think about my Brother every time I look at my chest too and it gets harder and harder trying to justify these martyrs and the pastor and their squalor, had me feeling more contrite than Christ-like. 

Then He called and before I could start my *Urshter, He was encouraging some more and sharpening my sword. "You weren't buying his success I just ordered your steps." Yep. 

So I turned to the Devil..."You still need some light?” Looked around and he was nowhere in sight. The 2's here and I'm smiling to myself as I absorb... I know I'm going to see the devil again unless I start taking the 4, still probably won't be able to dodge him that's for sure... got a BBM from Christ "no weapon" the sunglasses smiley and nothing more... "Stand clear of the closing doors." 

*humidified- cleared the air 

*Roberta Flack and Lauryn Hill - killing her softly with my song

*Urshter - Confess, Confessions

*Babyface and Weezy - Comfortable 

*Aaliyah - Rock the Boat 

*Kem - Love Calls

Li'l Kim - Jumpoff

*Gyptian - Serious Times 

*Geico - So easy a Caveman can do it.

*Tonto - Jump On It

*Xscape - Just Kick It

Run on

As the wind swoops 'round the roof and the lights dim just enough bright to squint and punch the keys in side of the QWERTY is the end and ten digits punch 26 plus space and punctuations like comma comma comma hold my spot save my placement and back gimme that I definitely 'preciate it all day tummy speaks grumbles peak so i eat to no avail just repeats till i reach satiation it dont matter so i ignore certain cravings knowin they wont clench cool or curb my desire kinda amazing like spidey the one wit 2 hands not 8 they're not that cool the red n blue dude that turned black then he was evil kinda rude dont you think question mark he couldnt dance just the baggy pants and whip appeal was the only part they had slight right still if he turned white wud his hair smell like bologna that was wrong why's it spelled the way it is question mark thats so crazy confusin as a kid tryna learn this language and the rules keep changin she said always put I before an E except when they follow C well my eyes didnt see what she mean so i had to keep a ceiling and receipt close 2 me and a semi-colon goes where question mark u jus said a period goes there exclamation exclamation expletive now my placement is the corner of the room on time-out ready to bounce I'll write a five page paper to explain my behavior get back on her good side but still it needs a punch line I aint punctuatin s*%t ha ha see if she can follow this if she keep addin rules to english turnin the fun off then ima keep writing like a rebel comma run on.