Route 321

Leaving Columbia tomorrow. Heading South. Going to be riding through small towns I have seen many times before as a tween but feel like I will finally see them for the first time. Obstacles and barriers have presented themselves as expected. Did 2 shows in one night, a first for me, sold barely any product. Both venues loved the shows and I was meet after by many who told me how much they enjoyed, were inspired, were touched, etc by the poetry but…well we are in a recession/depression. Money, the quintessential barrier that I have to and God willing will overcome. My brother told me today that I have too much pride (if there is such a thing) and that I have to learn to ask for help. I know he’s right and I have to come to grips with it. Just one more character trait I have to adjust. I remember as a child growing up in the projects in Brooklyn having to go to the store with a note from my mother asking for credit and bearing a list of items. I used to play the dumb, sweet kid acting like I didn’t know what the note said. But I did. The answer wasn’t always yes and I felt like a failure when I had to come back to the house empty handed. The emerging man in me. My pride derives from this and other experiences of poverty. Nothing particularly special just having to swallow pride to survive…and knowing it way too young. We all have similar stories, even those who never wanted for anything, they too have had their trials. My story is nothing special it’s just my story and how/why I came to be who I am. I don’t’ excuse the behavior of rappers/ athletes/ entertainers but I can understand how suddenly having an excess when you previously had nothing could make you act. Anyway, it’s off South. The road calls me.


The road calls me (1st stanza)
The road calls me
A lover’s whisper in my ear
Saying
Come to me
Follow me
Ride me like I’ve never been ridden before
Position yourself between my guiding lines and push
Harder than ever
Don’t look back
Keep your eyes on me
Move faster than the speed of thought
Cause if you think
you wont
But take your time
Cause if you don’t
You’ll miss
the purpose
Don’t fly through the journey
Taste me
Lick asphalt
Kiss concrete
Suck exhaust till exhausted
Then rest your weary bones in my median
Never leave me
They say your running from your demons
But you see them
Face them in the mirror every time you look
Do you see him?
Not a demon but your father
Gone 13 years and yet here
You look just like him…
I started smoking at his bedside beside him
Watching him die of cancer
Lit 2 cigarettes
1 for him, 1 for me
having found the answer
of how to commit suicide
Slowly.