Good Morning Daybreak

Sitting in the sand with nothing but the sound of waves crashing on the shore in front of me. Their consistancy sings an understood life of reach and fall as though their only goal is to reach the light of the hazy boardwalk lamps behind me. Its night time...well...early morning and the same darkness that shrouds nightmares and closeted monsters seems to climb from the sea and surround each and every brilliantly clear star. But there's a sense of appeal like Luther Vandross's outfits on Centric reruns of Soul Train; sparkling.
Drawing me as though there was some distant spotlight setting the mood for my soft soiled stage...
Normally this scene would be considered peaceful. People come to the beach for miles just for this moment, just for this....peace. hmm...Maybe when the suns out but at night ,for me, it is the very opposite of peace. Ignoring the parable to build your house on solid ground my mind builds its platform on quick sand and this sand....this sand is the perfect place for it to be a one man band; playing.
Constantly playing thoughts of what's next with not so suttle tones of those that shouldn't be present. All seemingly ignited by my actions, fueled by the split wood of being without my other half and not knowing exactly what I want for my future; when I grow up. I've always been told that I was much more mature than my age but it never made sense because by now shouldn't I have a plan? A clear cut goal that I can focus my energy on? But it seems that my desires are reaching and falling back as though their only goal is to be in the light of a hazy future; Waving.
Wavering loyalty as I play with the thought of being with the girl i've known for years but not wanting to push anything...destroying what years of friendship had built. It wouldn't be wise to chip away at the rock that I call my support; self destruction.
I battle my own desires keeping close tabs on my right hand since my texts get wreckless as I realize I really do love my bestest. Or maybe cuz of BET's lack of good programming i've watched too many reruns of Love and Basketball who's story line and my minds solo performance has me longing for a duet....or maybe not just looking for peace.
And if there was any it was in this moment where my mind, stripped of its stage, fell silent. The day breaks, the stars go home and the clouds sweep across like busboys after the nights open mic. The inviting darkness fades into the flamboyant sunrise and seagulls return like the hungover employees from thirsty thursday. I follow like Simon Says the movement of the sun.
I get up...leaving all traces of my presence to be washed away by persistence. I guess this was only a vacation...
"Goodmorning [daybreak]...you old [peaceful] friend……"

~A.Moore


So this looks like its going to work as my post andddd my poem. Lol. I actually love the beach. I wanted to figure out a way to share with y'all the moments I have been experiencing at 4am sitting on the balcany over the beach. I figured i'd also have to be a lil honest with my thoughts to really bring you here. (Goodmorning heartache by Billy Holiday played in my head throughout writing...random? Maybe not) I'll post some pics of the sunrise if I can. As always, tell me your thoughts and Continued Blessings.

Selah

Popeye's Receipt

Yikes! It has definitely been awhile since I've been on here. I've been meaning to write something but life and laziness took over. I think it would only be appropriate to lead off with this poem I was suppose to write. Just as a background my brother and a few of my closest friends and I went to Busboys and Poets (not from DC? hit the U st. one up) and we just had a night of great poets hosted by the funny, witty, and too great TooDeep the Poetess. What our night ended in was me holding a Popeye's receipt (now I think about it..how'd I get that? I don't eat Popeye's..lol) with a bunch of random quotes and things written on it and we all decided that I should write a poem incorporating all those things. SOOO seeing how I've been in a super emotionally average state I haven't written in awhILE and hence these poem. All itilicized parts came from the receipt SOOO here it goes.... A Popeye's receipt, an open mic, friends, and a good night:


Try #1 -The Tag on My Gift-

Tunisian Pottery
That was my Fair Trade
My part in Global Exchange
hand made and painted
from the college of colored children that has no walls or barriers
other than the pitfall of assimilating with the chains of our past and the ignorance of the presence I created.
I created to sell more than watermelon more than a three piece, biscuit and fries from Popeye's. I created to sell my spirit, big heart and faith from these eyes.
So that when I wonder if hoodrats make it clap do aristocrats make it applaud?
you smile cause its Toodeep that knows kleptomaniac poetry is cheaper than therapy and that line caused a laugh that healed abandoning fathers, disgruntled mothers, unhappy stairs in the mirror and degrading name calling..so take it
That line saved you from $90 an hour and that awkward moment right before you steal the sauce cup from Fridays...so keep it.
So before I go I want to remind you that I create Tunisian Pottery and its my Fair Trade...my part in Global Exchange...more than just packaged black
Thanks You For Choosing
My Product


Try #2 -Tunisian Pottery-

Tunisian Pottery
That was my Fair Trade
My part in Global Exchange
Hand made and painted
educated from the College of Colored Children
Where asking questions like "If hoodrats make it clap do aristocrats make it applaud" lead into discussions of Black Renaissance and President Obama
Where seeming TooDeep is a normalcy and a fresh cut is ambrosia from the Gods on a Friday night
Where you wouldn't dare be caught eating a 3pc chicken, biscuit and fries with a side of watermelon for fear of perpetuating a stereotype.
My pottery...
is not like the sauce cups you steal from Fridays which inevitably make my meal a little more expensive
Its not cheap, its not brittle, it wasn't mass produced or similar to anything else it is unique and created in a way only virgins dream of...
many breaths, sweat, arched backs, curled toes, thoughtful comments and 6 pair of hands
Mine, hers, and Gods
The curves are gentle and soft
and she doesn't show her age in cracks and chips
has silent beauty and the strength only found in scriptures
She is Tunisian Pottery
my Fair Trade and Global Exchange
My addition to the world
and my only way to describe her is through Kleptomaniac poetry that was cheaper than your therapy
She's every love song and butterfly kiss
My daughter





So thats it..the end..If only you all were here in my mind as I wrote these..def laughing as I relived that night at Busboys. Anyways that was actually a little more challenging than I thought and I will be needing a little break. Comment...DEF let me know which Try you like better.

Continued Blessings
~A. Moore

Heart Throb

Very rarely do people get into real emotions on valentines day. I've never looked at the day past the little nerd candy box and nick toon paper fold overs that we use to get in grade school. It's funny because the teachers would always send home a letter the week before asking that the students bring enough for all the students in the class. They even provided a list of all the students names; the emotional protection tactics of private school. Sometimes I feel like "good families" spend a lot of time hiding their children from emotional maturity. It's almost like picking your baby up every time they try to walk in an effort to keep them from ever falling. The intentions may be good but the means aren't productive(Kant on ethics anyone?lol). The result being that you never learn how to walk. I realized that as much as I've been taught I've set up ways to deal with negative emotions that aren't the best. My thing was to forget about it, get over it, and move on. <- That sounds pretty legitimate, right? Well there is a step missing..dealing with it. Yesterday I was made to realize that. I usually try to worry about other people's emotions so I don't have to focus on my own and yesterday a friend forced me to look at my own. Well more so tricked my mind into looking at itself through questions, their tone, and the situation at hand (Side note: Communication is so interesting). Regardless I ended up pretty tearful for about an hour and as much as I'd like to not admit I was crying...I was. You can call it what you may but I call it release. All at one moment I thought back to the moments where I pretended not to care, the few but present people I had hurt that meant a lot to me, the few things I ever regretted, and a lot of bad decisions that I have made in the past and how I had been so disappointed in myself (and we all know when someone says they're disappointed..it hits harder than saying they're angry). It was a lot and oddly overwhelming. It made me think of life as a building..when you create it you have to go through all the stages. Skipping over one just because you don't like it could result in a weak structure. That's what I was. A weak structure with a strong facing. There aren't to many times that we get a chance to go back and go through that step we missed years ago..but I got mine yesterday and I'm happy I couldn't run away this time.

I couldn't think of a legit name for the poem below...so I just put one that kinda went with it but that title alone has me thinking of something else soo...any suggestions?

Salt Water Taffy/Pinocchio

My vision is salty
Not because of long days on the beach
but long nights of being beached like a lost whale
I didn't know how to deal with being out of my comfort zone
I didn't want to look in the mirror and be unhappy at what I saw
once again
I try to turn away and look at you but you forced me to stare
stair until my very gaze was the only escape route to take
but it only lead deep into myself
where all the lost boys went in Pinocchio
my nose and ears grew as I tried to say nothing was wrong
that lets just keep moving on
I hee hawed as the ass came out of me
part boy part donkey and the whole time claiming to be a man
I had to grow up last night
and I can't claim to have a fairy God mother but
I did have you
Forcing me to walk again until I became a real boy
no a real man
and no magic sparkles fell or pixie dust snuffed
just my tears
like mirrors reflecting into me
tears swelling up
you made me stare
and my vision is salty


Continued Blessings
~A. Moore

Bon Appetit

Yesterday(Sunday) was one of those days in life where things just seem to work out. For some reason my body has not been sleeping past 6:30 or 7:30 since Wed. I just take that to mean that I have to much stuff to do to sleep and my body is now realizing that (I wish it figured this out 3 years ago). Usually the precursor to me waking up has been what I call preemptive dreams (PD) almost like premonitions (flash back to some episode of Charmed,lol) about WISE the group I run here at school. The one yesterday was about our Dutty Carnival party. Although everything is set up and ready my PD usually shows me the worse case scenario and then when I wake up...I do everything so that what I just saw doesn't happen. Unfortunately the thoughts aren't always the most ethical answers but having them provides movement to the correct method..usually. Some people may say that's a little crazy but if at the end of the day the event turns out great then I'm ok with that.

After waking up and writing down everything I would need to do I decided to watch a movie. I know the more productive thing would have been to do some work but its a three day weekend..I deserve a break (pssht midterms in 2 weeks and most people are just getting back to school now..smh..Drexel). The movie choice was Julie and Julia, not your typical male movie but staying in boxes are for losers. For anyone that does know me you know that I have a serious joy in cooking, baking more specifically, so this movie had an automatic attraction for me. I must say that this movie was surprisingly pleasing. I think it was because from the beginning I could understand how Julie felt moving to Queens and working her rather repetitive mundane job. Moving to philly was like that for me and the repetition of classes just as mundane (thank you God for Major changes). She had to find a release, something that she was passionate about, something that she could continue doing even without the support of her family (which she didn't have at the beginning). With the support of her husband she managed to start writing a blog about her "adventure" cooking all of Julia Childs recipes. For me I think it would be dancing. I love baking but lets face it as a college student who isn't close to home the chances of me making puff pastries and cakes on my budget are doubtful. Never the less after watching this movie I was inspired to cook (by the way...I think Meryl Streep is an amazing actress).

I sent out an invitation via text to 5 (which turned to 6) friends that I wanted to cook for. I tell them all the time that yes I can cook and en light of this new found inspiration I decided to prove it. I had "You are cordially invited to dinner @8pm in [my apartment] menu:Chicken, mixed vegetables, basil rice drinks will be served. Please feel free to add food/drinks to the dinner. Casual Dressy attire". I tried my best to seem uppity, lol. From there I proceeded to finish my statistics homework and walk in the rain to fresh grocers to pick up Truffle cheese, mixers, coconut milk, and butter (ie secret to life). Thankfully I decided to make a recipe that would be able to serve 3 large chicken breast to 7 people so I didn't have to worry about some foods. [side note...if you are a student in university city..take a cab or bus to Shop n Save it is ridiculously cheaper that Fresh Grocers..your pockets will thank you]. I also had to buy grocery store bought dessert which I am not a huge fan of unless I'm going to a potluck. My initial intention was to buy sponge cake and then fix it up with whipped cream and strawberries in the middle and make some type of reduction to spoon over the top of it but unfortunately they had no sponge cake so I bought Red velvet and ice cream..the more fattening option, lol.

In the next two and a half hours I baked rolls, cooked seared chicken in coconut sauce, made basil rice, steamed vegetables, lit candles, set out crackers with truffle cheese and honey nut cream cheese spread, found music play list, sliced Hawaiian round, set up regular and martini glasses with a drink list of red wine, sour aplletini, raspberry apple lemonade, and Apple Caprianchi (if you can't tell by now the secret alcohol was Smirnoff Green Apple,lol), and finally ironed my shirt so that I wouldn't look like the house slave when everyone was sitting for dinner. Some of my friends asked what the special occasion was to the dinner and I said I was inspired by Julie and Julia to do something I love for my friends. Of course since that was my inspiration I had to at least say several times while serving the food out or greeting "Bon Appetit!" in my best Julia Childs impersonation with equal laughs, smile and horrible impersonations back. Overall the dinner ended very well. The food was delicious on all accounts according to my friends, everyone thinks I should be a bartender and I got to include my friends in on something that I love.

I would speak on the club experience [my co. and another had an event at Fisos which moved to XO's Lounge next door] afterwords but lets just say...your friends are not always the people you want to do business with (not speaking on the friends at the dinner).

soo..I know Im suppose to write a poem at the end but...I started writing and couldn't finish it so I put it in the notepad on my comp...with the other unfinished poem..lol

With my best voice..

Bon Appetit!

Continued Blessings

Pale Cheese

Today I was making a sandwich in between my classes and I looked at the cheese I had just bought...it wasn't really yellow like I've grown to know Kraft slice cheese...it was pale. I looked at it a little sideways because I had definitely taken a minute to buy it because the price between Kraft and some other brand was almost $4 and to think what I had bought looked less real. I'm sure there is cheese in there but definitely less of it. This made me think about what I see around me every day. Everyone is less and less real, every product, every song, every person. Even the all natural aren't what they seem. We buy 100% juice not thinking that the pasteurization process probably takes out of a lot of the nutrients. We buy music artists' tracks thinking they're so real not thinking about how most of those songs were watered down, censored, and hand shucked by music labels in order to force feed the masses (hmm...mad cow disease anyone?). We, as humans have even become so unreal. I admit I've become, like my brother stated in his blog, "a programmed robot designed to go from work to school, process the information save it and then zone out." Are we real anymore? How many times do we take the time to really notice who we are, what we like, what we have a gift for? I know that for foreign families getting an elite education so you can get an elite job is sometimes stressed so hard that it seems almost impossible to think about yourself successful without formal, elite, university education. One of the downfalls to that is that "elite educations often tend to deter students from pursuing non-high paying jobs, thus essentially closing a world of possibilities" (~Malcolm Edwards) and in that often writing a lot of stories titled A Dream Deferred when the chances pass you by.

I feel like personally I should be getting awards. I beat Verizon to the Droid. I've been droid for mad long. I think its so crazy that my couple of years in college have almost been like waking up from serious hypnosis. All this time I went along with what I was told to do without truly thinking for myself. Get into this program, study hard, take this test, get into this school and to keep you in line we'll accept small burst of your passion but only enough to keep you well rounded not enough to cause any incongruities in the perfect bubble for your life. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't be more greatful to my parents,family, really good teachers, and the opportunites I have been afforded but it was my fault for not stepping up and mentally making the decisions myself to go after what was good for me. It was so serious that changing my major was more than just getting a few papers signed. It was a battle with myself. I was so scared because outside of math, science, and related technology I didn't know what else I could do well enough to step out on. It's one of those moments they talk about in Bible study..kind of like Jonah and the wale. There was a sense of urgency in my need to change but I didn't know what to do so I was scared and stepping out on faith had seemed like something off the path because there was no longer a yellow brick road for me to follow and they don't make ruby slippers in a men's size 14 so my chances of making it back home weren't evident. I've written poems about being alone and feeling separated but until you have to make a decision that truly only affects you either super negatively or positively and no one can help you, no one can guide you, and no one can decipher it for you...that's a type of loneliness you don't know but is similar to some bacteria in your stomach - necessary.

So now that I've made my jump and realized God really is there I'm moving forward on this new path. This time I can see my passions (music, dance, art, food, making people smile) and I want to find a way to tie those into my journey. I want to become more real, more me and weed out all the catalyst, preservatives and dyes that have found their way into the definition of this Andrew that are no longer needed. I want to become less like pale cheese..maybe more like sharp cheddar.



In an effort to rebuild my writing skills I've decided to rebirth myself. I'm going to crawl and try to write a short unedited and maybe long "something" depending on the spirit related to my blog from now on. I appreciate criticism but be respectful someone's passion is just as delicate as an ecosystem..it'll still go on but the slightest harshness could change it forever...


Dear Manufacturer,

I'm writing this letter because I am unhappy with your product.
It was bought cuz it said all natural
but when i look under the list of facts
it doesn't seem quite factual
It says 4% juice no preservatives no additives
yet the ingredients list is long
and the main ingredient is last on it.
Things like force fed dreams and predetermined goals
stifled desires and partially hydrogenated thoughts
preclude the one thing I thought that I had bought
So included with this letter you'll find your product too
no disrespect but with all 96% of what you passed off as product too
Send it back when you get it right
let me give you a clue
I don't want it to say all natural
just 100% Andrew...

Continued Blessings

What She Said

"They say that we should pray for our neighbors. But I only see mirrors around me." That one line alone stood out more than anything else this night. More than the girl whose confessing to having HIV almost brought on tears. More than the hostesses experience which left me saying I pray the day does not come. More than the man's love for a blind girl that would travel the world with him.

Those words stuck like fly paper hanging in a newly constructed home. It paralleled my position in life. These mirrors have names. School, Career, Goals, Personal Identification. Last night I was asked why can't you be in a relationship and the answer was simple...right now..all I can see is myself.

Another great night at Busboys and Poets has me revisiting a desire I have to start writing again. This innate creativity inside me has always found some release. Right now I'd probably say that it is centered around painting and planning for WISE but I'd honestly like to get back to writing. I promised myself one day I'd get the balls to read something on stage but until that happens..I'd like to just express myself. It seems that I've been so focused on the forward movement that I rarely have a chance to revisit, evaluate, or even debrief on what is going on around me. Even the most emotional things have lost their affect on me. I use to at least write when I was sad or upset. I was always taught that focusing in and not stopping till you get what you want is the best way to accomplish anything. I wonder if you focus to much, if you build mirrors around yourself do you in turn miss out on relationships? life? experience? I feel that its possible.

Until I can replace these mirrors with transparencies I'll continue praying for my neighbors.

Continued Blessings