Morphological Confetti

I saw a young, school aged girl on the subway train this morning on my way to work. She was wearing a tee shirt that read, "Play More Think Less." I didn't know what to think?

Morphological confetti consist of random thoughts, poetry, and ideas. It is an outlet for me to practice writing words and sometimes vent. I did not intend for this to be a serious "blog" that I hoped would be passed around as the gospel of what's going on in this world. It is just a journal. It's "confetti" that is meant to provoke some thought or emotion. Meanwhile, I will continue writing inside and outside this blog. Experience has showed me that, with God, I am able to achieve and excel at anything that I want badly enough. Writing will be one of my many achievements. Peace~

This world has changed so dramatically in the past 10 years that I don't think that I understand it anymore. I am just getting to the point where I truly don't understand anyone born after 1981. I know...it's a different generation. I am a product of the X generation according to those who determine this type of thing. I remember not feeling like I was even a part of my own generation when I was a teenager. Where does that leave people like me? I am consumed with existential thought whenever this topic skips across my mind. Who am I? Why am I here? Who in the hell are these people; This current "Y" Generation? I will say that they are a group that has their own voice. They are reinventing how things are presented, packaged and stated. Where did that all come from? Well, their words and ways of expression really reflect the current society. As a matter of fact, It is the very society that the previous generations created. So, why are the older generations angry, up...

There is a bird's nest located within the sign of the Einstein Bros Bagel shop in Silver Spring, MD. I find it peculiar that they (the birds) made their nest in the letter "B" of the word Bagel. They could have chosen the "R" or the "A" but they chose "B" as if they knew that people would find that interesting.

Writing 831 words "There was a cloud of dust in its trail as the green ’38 Chevy sped up the long bumpy road. The potholes in the road caused by Summer rains threw Tom’s body into spasmodic jerks as the vehicle plowed and rattled towards the Roberson's home. He slowed down as he approached the heavily shaded blue house and parked his car in the usual place adjacent to the shed. Tom reached over to the passenger seat and picked up the half empty bottle of gin just purchased from a bootlegger named Toe-Joe an hour before this dreadful journey began. He unscrewed the bottle and the smell from the alcohol rushed into his nostrils and caused him to frown. Tom cradled the back of his head with his left palm and closed his eyes as he guzzled the remnants of the gin. The liquor burned his throat as it went down into his empty stomach. “I have to do this,” he exclaimed as he open the car door...."

It's Friday!! I am always happy to bring in the end of a week. You know, it's so nice to live in such a culturally diverse area here in the Washington metropolitan area. For instance, I was on the train last night on my way home and there was a small crowd on the train. It was getting towards 9:30 PM so the people were peppered here and there on the car. I was sitting in the rear of the train observing four Ethiopian women and a little boy. I am not familiar with the ethnic groups in Ethiopia so that's all that I could decipher. They were looking at clothes that they seemed to have just purchased. They were, of course, speaking in their language and laughing about whatever they were discussing. I was about to read, but I put down my book to listen to them. Even though I couldn't understand a word of what they were saying it sounded so beautiful. The laughing was all I could understand. They continued to talk and look at the items of clothing. They seemed to comment on e...

Routine means never having to think about what's next. It's like going through life blindfolded. It even gets to the point when you don't remember what happened that day. You follow the same pattern in a mindless fashion. It can be, therefore, a dangerous thing. Author: Stephen Bess

First, I would like to send condolences and prayers out to the friends and families of those affected or infected by the bomb attacks in London. I was just thinking about these "United States" that we live in and how very fragile we are when it comes to hurt and tragedy. Oh, there are some of us in this society who have seen and are accustomed to a world of hurt, but very few of us are accustomed to the level of "terror" that we have experienced over the last few years. We can't imagine what a person living and working in Iraq has to go through on a daily or someone living in Liberia or some other African or third world nation. Pain is on a much grander scale! We should all definitely strive for peace and try to eradicate both foreign and domestic terrorism. it is not only costing the government and taxpayers billions, but it's causing us to lose ourselves. We are a culture of fear! This is nothing new. This culture has been run by fear from it's very be...

"...I find it's distressin', there's never no in-between We either niggaz or Kings We either bitchiz or Queens The deadly ritual seems immersed, in the perverse Full of short attention spans, short tempers, and short skirts Long barrel automatics released in short bursts The length of Black life is treated with short worth Get yours first, them other niggaz secondary That type of illin that be fillin up the cemetary This life is temporary but the soul is eternal.." Authors: Mos Def & Talib Kweli On this eve of the annual celebration of Independence Day we need to take a serious look at the problems that plague the African-American community. We are sick and very ill as a nation, and it doesn't take Bill Cosby or anyone else to make us see that. I'm not preaching....I merely stating a fact. It's our choice to do all that we can. Otherwise, you can fire up the grill, pop a few brews and maybe you won't remember a damn thing about what I wrote or ...