Symphony to Darkness

I've said it before,

    Live to write your dream empty from within, so that when you meet the grave there's nothing left to regret. So why this post, why tonight? Does a black as the crow flies unmovable cloud hover over my head...? No, I'm simply fed up with the unmendable response of that is silence; An every day glass realm shadow cast.

     Looking down upon the matrix green over black screen pages of text that are the significant unexplainable vernacular signatures left, embed upon no living soul, behind; ransom unatoneable as a statue illegitimately designed pregnancy born from the poison that is stagnates the well of my... Emotion terrorized consciousness, sworn oath to the moral trenches of conviction for acceptance.

       Nearly a quarter million 250,000 poetic written spoken words, yet no one would call me an artist or say that I am a writer. I accept my black invisible sheep status, a quota all families must fill; I am mine. But must all my messages bow before a silent oblivion death, never to impact anyone? The poetic journey that healed me, is it all meaningless?

     So what then? Do I write this tonight out of bitterness or resentment at the past? No, I write this because I cannot change the future with all that which I have written or who I have become as a person... And I am not talking about merely about what the written spoken word poetry might do if it touched the soul of another or who I am as I write or how I exist  with authentic conviction and positivity empowered by a smile for the future of acceptance, and thus love, in our world today.

       I mean, that despite what I write, the world around me continues to take one massive dump upon my head. Watching hashtags on twitter go viral about selfie pictures with homeless people in the background, makes me sick! A future with derelict moral fibreless children leading us, even if they 'swore they've changed,' is a glass shatter hour future I don't really want to see. Our current state of the world is hard enough to bare. Reading the news every day to write about the hope and tragedy found therein.

      Working never 9:00 to 5:00 in my life I find everywhere I go, that system's corruption in the consciousness or lack thereof awareness beyond the mirror's pride imagery. Leaders who should never be given the opportunity to be in charge are given the reins of control over proletariat people and you can almost see them daily become more disheartened... Watch the world of debt drown in between walls filled with avarice sickness, how long till sandcastle earth turns completely grey?

    Even so, maybe I write this post upon this invisible digital page as part of the ongoing poetic timeline that is my black poetic echo of a sheep's life. Whatever it is, the reason I write, I know this. That the Algorithymns Poetry² Spoken Word Universe(ity) Project will empower the poets who write in service to the moral conviction clause of acceptance the world over. 

      We will give them a community to stand within, peers to support, mentor and inspire them to bring about social change, even just so in their own lives. From the remote areas of Africa to France, Belgium, Germany and beyond into Brazil and Mexico, where the silence of the poets has fallen. Community of caring, authentically inspiring: Hope!

In earnest anticipation of,