Just Some Thoughts…
"While we are encompassed by a world of problems, it is our responsibility to decide how we react." -thepositivendeavour
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A Martyr
January 28, 2016
I will probably be a martyr. Then I ask God for forgiveness for offending His sons and daughters. I’ll also ask Him, “Why do I have to be a martyr.” Then I stare down at my skin and notice it’s a bit darker and realize that’s a problem. They will probably try to tear me down because I am an imperfect being. They’ll probably turn 1 speeding ticket into something imposturous so they can formally push their lawsuits. Once my character is in question they’ll let propaganda do what it has to. I know this to be true because I have already attacked by my own people. Fortunately, that anonymous girl didn’t convince her that I would control her diet. People have been trying to sabotage me. Unfortunately, there were probably some of you that did believe. I thought I was low-key because you’ve never seen me blow trees, and before college started I was retired from college parties. But she will always have something to say about me. However, I am no anomaly. Just take a look at Bill Cosby. What happened to the phrase “innocent until proven guilty”? I know a feminist from my HBCU that protests against him publicly. Lord please don’t let a black man slaughter me. I know we have a fighters mindset, but please calm all self-hostility. I used to think this was an existential crisis, but this is reality. Thankfully I can reveal myself to you before you reveal myself to me. Say what you may, but I will let my blog speak for me. Sometimes my impatience is hard to control when it’s mixed with my intensity. Sometimes my virginity is hard to maintain when she keeps messaging, and at times my resort for pain has left scars on my body that made people question me. But if God is for me who can be against me…. It even says my enemies will be at peace with me. Now I’ll close my eyes because that’s the peace I need. This man has got it and really gives it? I promise I’m just speaking my life into reality.
Consequently,
Your Founder/Chief Executive Officer
KohrulMe
January 23, 2016
He is no militant man, but based on his stance you might have to question that. He is a diligent man, and he will do what he says. He will work harder for himself than he will work for you. Therefore he is ruler over his own destiny. His motivation isn’t based on your pennies worth of incentives, but he just moves off the sense of self that he has been blessed with. He will share that blessing. His physical and his mental being are in alignment with what the Word says, so if he should reap what he has sown he should reap a basket of woes. He shouldn’t reap a wife because he’d been “Sowing Hoes”. However, he believes in the phrase “I Forgive You.” And Dad “I Love You” but, please stop suggesting potential wives. Under divine rule he has obtained control of his mind, so when “Your Painted Black Thighs” peruse his eyes he maintains a calm state of mind. His words will be chosen carefully, and his negative thoughts will be replaced by thoughts of the quality of life he plans to have. He maintains control over his yearning to frequently return to “The Batcave” because he realizes he won’t be accepting melodies from the lyre just the Liar that says his life is not worth it and that he’s worthless. He was once told he was ugly. Then he grew a little and was told he was pretty. He realized shifting his basis of self worth to rely on external beauty is “Hogwash” because he began to tell himself “I’d Die Young” so he would die pretty. Beauty fades with age. Beauty grey’s with age. He will just thank the Lord he learned to embrace pain. He’ll thank the Lord he didn’t have to get “Stoned” mid December in order to escape pain. Because it did hurt in November when she didn’t text back, and it was a slight setback. However, pain isn’t fatal, so there is no need to be “Cradled” every time “Those Slum Days” come around. And no “Down Girl! Down!”, but please stand up girl. Stand and assume the proper stance beside a man and not down on your hands and knees. If you are reading this, this a more effective way he has developed to communicate his feelings without being an “Extremist or Extremely Passionate”. He no longer has the “Harsh Dependency” of needing a cute girl on his side because he has a beautiful wife. He is no longer a “Masochist” to himself. For he realized if he continued his actions he would leave his mother saying “I Have A Funeral To Attend”. He revere’s the words of men such as Martin Luther King Jr, and someday his words from “Luthor” will touch someone in the same manner. Essentially, he realized that his state of mind was directly proportional to “The Greater Scheme” of his life. Therefore, he maintains his faith as his path is “Heaven Bound”.
Consequently,
Your Founder/Chief Executive Officer
Hogwash
June 26, 2014
I wonder what you see in me…cause sometimes it’s hard for me to believe in me. Imagine having to hear that he said that she said that you could be great. And you sing “Lean on me”, but that type of dependence would probably kill me. Then they’d probably have to “will” me. And I don’t have much to leave, so I’m just going to lean on me while me feeds on the compliments that you just gave me. I’m just conducting introspection on that section of my brain that has me stressing that you’ve moved onto the next thing. Likened to a game where you just next them.
I think back to a time a couple tits removed. I think back to a time minus all the flicks construed; I’m flipping through my archive, “Yea these couple pics will do.” We were all so innocent! Then we all got rid of it. Little babies having precedence, we were only worried about our relevance! But we’re still only focused on our relevance. We pray then put in work and call it heaven-sent. And I need a shower of blessings. Cause I’ve always been worried about being the next best thing to the best thing…or the next best thing to the next thing.
It says pray without ceasing, and I hear the preacher preaching. It’s enlightening. Then I think I’ve found life’s meaning. But I can’t seem to pray without ceasing; I just pray for peace of mind as I see my parents gradually deceasing. And I’m still hearing the preacher preaching. “Amen.” “Hallelujah.” I’m just waiting for it to seep in. Cause it’s funny how someone can give you something to believe in, only to leave you wide-eyed and hopelessly dreaming….
Heaven bound
May 27, 2014
Lately I’ve been thinking that I’m good, cause my palms always been closed to the drugs. I look around and figure that I’m straight; two decades passed still haven’t opted to smash. I’ll be flying out the state to my birthplace, with my family thinking I’m about my work. Public image probably looking kinda sharp, as long as they don’t catch me in my room. They say the world is coming to an end, so I’m eclectic in my ways to pass the time. I use religion as a comfort for my mind, because I’d die before getting jail raped for my soul. But then the Bible told me turn the other cheek, but how when there’s so much pride to hold. Nah nah, as long as it’s something I can control, I’d like it for my ass to remain closed.
Heaven bound but I barely even pray. And when I pray I’m probably about to eat.
Heaven bound but I barely even sleep. I guess I’m waiting for the Lord to judge my soul.
This is the confessions of a child, who never really cared about the wealth. Instead he prayed to talk to all these girls, probably thinking it would help his mental health. And his mama always confiscating phones, cause it’s 6 am and he’s still on the phone. Then she asks him why he’s gotta be extreme, then doctor doctor says he’s messing up his health. He was looking for the truth inside a lie, from the misconceptions he created about himself. Then heartbreak came and hit him with the truth. No one can replace the love you have for you.
Heaven bound and I’m trying to see the light. I’m trying to separate my feelings from the truth.
Heaven bound and I’m trekking through this life. I’m trying to find the love I once had for You.
The Batcave
March 2, 2013
If I can inspire, would that fulfill my heart’s desire? As I’m sitting on my throne accepting melodies from the lyre, I’m much higher. “What?” I’m higher than I have ever been since I’ve stopped meddling with that sin. “Ohh. Okay, carry on.” Once it started to bloom, I was consumed. And I spent thousands of hours planted in the my room. I couldn’t move, but I just blamed it on the lady with the broom. She was on some shrooms, got a little confused, and then came through and cast a spell on a dude! “Wow. Man quit playing! That’s insane! So when’s the next time you trying to get some brain though?” Stop. Please don’t try and tempt me. You know if I go back down that road you know I will be left broken and feeling empty. And don’t resent me for side stepping your offer…my enemy. Just leave me be and let me continue my story of how this sinful indulgence almost destroyed me. “Okay. But always remember that you can look although you may not touch. God has already declared your victory, so there’s no rush.”
My hands and my eyes were in conjunction. I was in so deep I was unable to function. I couldn’t go to luncheon without thinking who and who was eyeing me. But nah I think I’ll just blame that on my social anxiety. And hell yea that’s propriety cause I can’t have all that guilt piled up inside me. Plus I could be free. I could be free from all the stresses of trying to pursue that girl in who’s face I’d probably hurl after she denied me. But at least I tried b. I could always run to The Batcave to hide me as I blindly searched for something to remind me of the sexual ventures I had with her. Or her. Or maybe her because her breasts were a bit larger, and she’d probably go a bit farther. “Yes! Yes! You’ve done your three months time, so you’re more than fine! Plus, what’s a college guy without a chick on his side?” Nah, I think I’ll be alright for the moment seeing that, that shouldn’t be an essential component of my coolness.
My mind was deprive of real life. My perception was surreal in fact. I looked down her back and thought those implants was her real ahh…yea. “Don’t doubt what I have shown you. For the last six years I have owned you and grown you into the lustful man you are today…well the one you were three months ago anyway. Don’t turn your back on me now!” I will not take a bow nor allow my defenses to be let down. I won’t stand here proud and act as if all my battles have been won. I’m just grateful for how far I’ve…well for how far we’ve come.
Extremist or Extremely Passionate?
February 24, 2013
My life, like many of yours, is composed of many intricacies unknown to others. I have been told that since I was born I’ve had to fight for life. I won’t reproduce to you a cliché story about my near death experience upon exiting the womb, but I will say that my impaired birth did lead me to have mild complications throughout my childhood. These complications would later cause me to sketch a skewed image of myself.
I was the fastest kid in my class for the majority of my elementary career. When I was in third grade, I was chosen to race against two of the other fastest kids in my elementary school. They were both older than me, so I was pretty nervous to race against them. The day finally came for us to race, and I placed last as I expected. I lost the race from close behind however. This probably would have been a great opportunity for me to feed my emaciated ego…if my classmates had not witnessed the raced. After seeing me run that day, my classmates would soon coerce me to play a game called cops and robbers in P.E class. It was simply tag with an embellished title. They were the cops. I was the robber.
“1. 2. 3. GO!” I began to sprint. Those with the duty of enforcing the law upon me were left in the dust. That only lasted for a couple of seconds however. I should have known better, but I wasn’t going to seem weak.”You are under arrest!” In a moment, I was being man handled by the majority of the girls and guys in my class. “Put your hands behind your back!” Crap. They got me. Silence. “Don’t try anything funny.” Almost there. Almost there. A couple minutes had passed, and they were getting too comfortable having me as their prisoner…. “He’s getting away!” I was gone, and they were anger. They would soon be pacified as they saw my sprint become a light jog then a feeble walk. “Don’t worry about it. We got him!” They handled me with even more force than before. Or maybe it was just the feeling of my body going into a sharp decline. “I bet you won’t try to run again!” Their grip on me was much tighter than first time, and I knew they wanted me to fuel the little adrenaline rushes I was giving them. “Don’t try anything stupid!” I silently gasp for air. “Haha, you won’t escape this time!” The wheezing became heavy. My symptoms were drowned out by their taunting. Enough. “N…N..Nooo. No your…your not going anywhere. S…STOP HIM!” My self-esteem would not be lowered as they surrounded me and instigated me to break free. The air I tried to breathe then stopped registering to my lungs. “Gotcha! I bet you won’t…are…ummm are you okay Bakari?’ Blackness. Stars. Pockets empty. No inhaler. “Give him space! Bakari! Bakari, breathe in and out into this paper bag. Your mother is coming with your inhaler. ” My first attack. They stood in awe. I felt weak. Never again.
8th grade…“Okay, so your choices are Gatlinburg (Tennessee), Disney World, or St. Louis.” Bloody class trip. I knew swimming would be involved. I had formed a fancy for delicacies such as bread with humus or chips and salsa. They could no longer say I would blow away in the wind if a storm passed through. In fact, they said the opposite. “Wow, boy your putting on a little weight there.” “You used to be so skinny! What happened?” A nice little dynamite for my ego. There was not much to demolish though. I was only about fifteen pounds overweight, but in my head I became obese. I was already self-conscious, but now I had become a faithful slave to their opinion. “Don’t think about the burn, think about what you’re going to earn. Come on, push yourself!” My chest remained tight. My lungs continued to burn. I kept exercising.
Days…weeks…months…A quarter mile became a half a mile. A half a mile became a mile. A mile became two miles. The scale began to register lower numbers. The comments began to lessen. I worked hard. I worked really hard. A daily two mile run became part of my religion. I ran for the relative that commented on my weight gain. I ran for the older cousin who was shocked to see me chubby after not seeing me for a few years. I ran for my haggard ego in hopes to feed it with the weight I lost.
Class trip was approaching…School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. Dang. You weren’t supposed to eat after six. Okay, run an extra two miles. School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. School. Homework. Treadmill. Oh shoot. You really pigged out tonight. But it’s Friday night. You know your mom won’t let you exercise. Proceed to the guest bathroom in the basement. Open the toilet lid. Fingers ready? Okay, stick em’ in and shove em’ down. Gag reflex. Try again. Chokes. Try harder. That’s good, but you know you really messed up tonight. You need to bring up some more. Just stick them down fast. Don’t think about it. AWYKXGTHKR!!! Okay cool. Now clean up this mess before your mom sees this. A few days pass. I messed up again. Repeat.
I cherish these memories, and I have recently made some more. These days, however, the question just rings in my head, “Extremist or extremely passionate? Extremist or extremely passionate?”
A time comes when one must free himself from the views and opinions of others in order to live. Act accordingly.
Down Girl! Down!
February 18, 2013
Disclaimer: Viewers discretion advised. Read at will.
A lot of energy has been expended. So now we put our guards up because we must conserve everything that is left of us. Not much. We have become pain stakened. “Lonely or alone?”, those are two totally different statements. Just be patient. It’s just something about this present congregation aka my generation. I’m just saying. In accordance with Adam and Eve, my generation conceived the notion that “we were meant to be”…together. The junction of him and her would last forever. This kind of commitment would need love however. What is love though? Can we despise ourselves yet love another? Can we chastise our being yet love the others? He was broken, but his arms were left wide open to receive her…and she was a dreamer. She dreamed that he would be different from the other guys. And although he let go of his other ties with women, he was still slipping. Cause he was still gripping, another girls behind in his mind, but it’s fine. She was a dime! Then his conscience would bite him, and he would give in and tell his girl that he was mentally sinning. She would respond, “You can cheat on me, but just don’t leave me. You know I’d do anything to appease thee!” He’d say, “Oh for real? Cool, get down on your knees b.” It was tragic, how her moral code just disappeared like magic. The next thing you know he was an addict, and he spent the rest of the relationship trying to cut the habit. He swung at immorality like he was at Lambrick! Stop the madness! He knew there would be no exchange after he got some brain, so why complain? Well, because she told him it was okay. Girl what are you saying? “I can’t risk the loss. Too much energy has been expended.” Oh, so we should go on pretending we’re going to work this out? “What’s the problem dear? Every time it happens now…I get aroused!” Please close your mouth. I’m trying to leave you with something to hold onto. “It’s too late for that. I belong to you.”
Sooner than later the rationale came through, and he sat there thinking what the hell to do. She was unmoved as he presented his case. In a moment, all the good things he had done for her would suddenly be erased from her memory. She silently repeated to herself, “You can cheat on me, but just don’t leave me. You know I’d do anything to appease thee!” He’d have flashbacks of the times he’d say, “Babe pretty please, drop down to your knees. Could you do it just for me?” This conversation was not going on in real life however. She just stood listening to him state his claims. They all registered as excuses, and all she could think was, “How could he do this?” But they came to a consensus. They agreed to part ways for the summer and pray to Allah for the answers and just hope that he would answer. He got back to them. They had no future in store…. A lot of energy had been expended. Now they have their guards up in order to conserve everything that is left of them.
Be careful…cause it’s not much…
The hell’s a lame?
February 12, 2013
— 6 Comments
Disclaimer: No one is obligated to read this entry. Therefore I will not hesitate to use personal experiences to illustrate points I am trying to make.
For the majority of my life, I have tried to dodge that label. I would play it safe so I wouldn’t get raped by their words of hate…hatred towards me of course. I was pretty skilled at it too. You see, as long as I would stay in line and repress any “bright ideas” of mine I was fine. “Don’t worry about upholding the integrity of being true to yourself. Just try to blend in so you can be like the rest of them.” I tried to make myself believe that anyway. The hell’s a lame though? I guess since I have experienced such abuse I can give you an example.
…it must have been the fall semester of 2011, and I was constantly forgetting that I needed to stay clear of the young ladies. I always found some way to convince myself that simply talking to a girl was alright. So I did exactly that. I started talking to this PYT (pretty young thang) that I had no intention of getting into anything serious with. Everything was going smoothly, and my feelings for this girl eventually began to accumulate. Surprise. We were hanging out one day and decided to take a picture together. I can’t remember if we were seriously talking at this point, but all I know is that, that picture soon became her profile picture on Facebook. I was chilling thinking that everyone would be happy for us, but this was not the case. At the time I was unaware, but one of her boys became kinda hostile towards the new profile pic. No worries though; in reality he was/is a soft-spoken young lad, but behind close doors he wanted to slander me. All of a sudden comments like “Who the hell is this lame ass nigga your taking lovie dovie pictures with” were being made. Ironically, I had never even met this dude, so I began to become suspicious about why he used those words to depict me. Further investigation led me to believe that there may have been potential feelings between him and the girl I was talking to…before I came through and started talking to her.
I take it he may have been a little envious, but was there really a need to call me lame? What does this word that is often thrown around actually mean? In this situation, I assume he didn’t conjure up the word lame based on my ability to successfully talk to a female. So what was the context? I often hear many self-proclaimed “cool people” call others that they feel are lower than them lame. I never did understand why people who were supposedly so confident in themselves go the distance to put others down. Obviously not all people do this, but I have seen it happen enough for it to draw my attention.
From the brief time that I have been in college, I have observed that the people who others consider “cool” are usually just at the fore front of what everyone else is doing. So while many dudes are having sex with multiple girls, “that guy” is not only having sex with multiple girls but is also smashing the cute/seemingly innocent one’s as well. Or while everyone is fashionable in their own way, “that person” tries to take fashion to the next level by putting cuffs in his/her slim fit pants to show off the colorful patterned socks they’re wearing or by having the heaviest rotation of Jay’s. Their excess of girls or shoes is what separates them from everyone else. Now they have the authority put others down because they are cool.
Some of the people I silently admire the most are the people who are the truest to themselves. I can think of one guy who worked at the front desk of the dorm I was staying in last semester. This dude was no where near the coolest guy on campus. In fact, I witnessed instances in which people made inside jokes about him right in front of his face. He was not equipped with the latest fashion. His somewhat awkward walk was not complimented by his tall stance. The pitch of his voice didn’t help him either; however, I feel like he was/is one of the coolest people on campus. And if I mentioned his name I am sure everyone who attends the university I attended would recognize it.
If being lame means being true to yourself although others may find it unacceptably different, then I guess I’m on a mission to get there…
Primer
February 10, 2013
Disclaimer: Meditate on this concept, and don’t be afraid to giggle. That includes those of you with hardened hearts.
“In order to succeed, your desire for success should be greater than your fear of failure.” -Bill Cosby
Yes, I am your primer. I mean seriously, what is wrong with you guys? Why has your life become a schedule? Why are you falling into the cycle? Just think about it for a moment. You wake up every morning and hopefully brush your teeth. Swell. Then if you are in a relationship or talking to someone you probably rush to your phone to see if your significant other has sent you a good morning text. That’s cool. And for those of you who are single, there are always the potential Instagram and Facebook notifications. It’s okay; we’re in this together. After your finished with all that, you may have your devotions. I would love to assume it came before you checked the text messages or notifications, but I’m going to take a guess and say it doesn’t. Don’t stone me if I’m wrong. You proceed to do whatever other morning rituals you have, and then you go to class or work. The lecture goes well, and you probably pat yourself on the back for taking good notes. After all, your progressing in life right? Your going to class, to make the grades, to get the degree, to get the job. There’s nothing wrong with any of this, and it would be nonsense if I told you that you were wasting your time….
I was on Facebook a couple weeks back, and I ran across a post one of my FB friends wrote. It basically said, “I don’t like school. I am just here to get a degree so can get a job to support my family.” Although that is not necessarily my attitude towards school, I totally respected what this person was saying. It was better than dropping out and deciding to pursue a rapping career. I have nothing against that either. In fact, I commend those people who are ambitious enough to do that. What if people pursued their personal goals while continuing their education however? As a Biology major, I fully understand how it feels to be consumed by your major. I also understand that “you will never find time for anything. If you want time, you must make it.”-Charles Buxton This becomes even more of a reality the older a person gets. Free time begins to dwindle, responsibilities begin to accumulate, tax jokes will soon be made, physical strength and energy usually lessen, creativity weakens, etc. Yea, the odds are pretty much against you. So why not start now?
There was a time I became so consumed by my major and other responsibilities that I began to neglect my personal goals. I wouldn’t touch my guitar for weeks at a time. I didn’t write any songs or anything at that besides in my journal or in my notes in class. I threw my fitness goals out of the window saying, “I don’t really have time to exercise.” My dream of potentially starting a blog was put to rest. The thought of going abroad to learn Spanish was forgotten. I basically had no innovation. I thought that if I got into medical school and eventually became I physician I would be thoroughly content. I would be able to support my family. I would be able to cater to people’s physical needs. I would be respected in my community. I would essentially be accomplished…or so I thought.
In the past couple of months, I have been forced to reconsider the meaning and purpose of my life. I probably shouldn’t be here 
today, but thank God I am. I had limited the meaning of life in my mind, so when particular things happened I felt as if my world was coming to a close. I soon began to realize that this was not true. I started to realize that I had gifts that needed to be cultivated in order for me to reach others. I would never be able to cultivate any of these gifts in the classroom either. So I began to blog and force myself to play my guitar more via video posts I made on Facebook. It was amazing to start hearing people tell me that my words were able to help them. I was humbled. I am humbled. If I neglected to start, however, this would never have happened. My peers that were encouraged by my blog would have never heard from me.
My dad and I were conversing this morning and he said something to me that still resonates in my head. We were having a conversation about some school work that needed to be done and he said, “Sometimes the hardest thing to do in life is to start.” The truth of his statement struck me, and I was compelled to write this entry for you. So now that you have been primed…
Please start…Masochist
February 5, 2013
This girl learned to love pain. She was no sadist, but she did learn to embrace pain. After all, she had been conditioned to be that way. She wasn’t the strongest kid growing up, although she had a big heart. She wasn’t the smartest kid in the class, although she had a fierce determination. For most of her childhood and adolescent life she lived by a simple theory. “Be kind. Keep quiet.” It was those two principles that keep her self-esteem from being lowered even more by her peers. If she was quiet enough, she wouldn’t draw extra attention to herself. If she was nice enough, she could dodge a couple of jokes. This worked for the most part. She was never required to face herself, so she became complacent with having the dirt as her neighbors and friends. Her parents did not challenge the misbelief’s she had about herself. In fact, some of the harmless jokes they made about her contributed to the accumulation of some of her insecurities. Life for her was no harder than life for any other kids her age. There were no traumatic experiences to be discussed nor cried over.
Middle school…
The insecurities that flourished for the majority of her life were finally challenged. She could no longer hold onto the insecurity of having wickedly crooked teeth. Her braces fixed that. She was no longer handicapped, unable to sprint more than a few feet before passing out. Her persistence and determination in her exercise regimen had strengthened her lungs. She could for miles at a time now. Facial scares that were acquired during her childhood began to fade away due to years of proper treatment. She began to dress well, and she steadily began to become somewhat fashionable. Physically, she transforming into a very pretty girl. Mentally, nothing changed.
High school…
More guys started to notice her. Her figure began to accentuate, and her face cleared from puberty. She looked like a totally different person, and guys were not hesitant to tell her how attractive she was. Then she got a boyfriend…and got hurt. Then another boyfriend…and returned that hurt. Then one more boyfriend…and got scarred. This was nothing new to her however. She got to the point where she was used to feeling low. She would pray for things to get better, but deep down inside she seemed to contradict her prayers. Although she said she wanted to get better, she was so accustomed to feeling down. She was almost content with inhabiting ground. She was the dirt those above her treaded upon. She was the mud that those living in the clouds rained on. If there ever was a time she was happy, she would anticipate the pain of sorrow because had grown to love it. A true masochist.
We may stay afloat in our sorrows or swim in our victories. -thepositivendeavour
Just Some Thoughts... 