A Universe expressed through a Window of Experience

No need to be Fly, when you can be a Skywalker..

In a world where there is an abundance of ignorance, and a lack of creativity from the artless and heartless, the egotistical, dark-minded conformists seem to rule. However, the kindred souls of love-light shall skywalk through Earth spreading knowledge and heavenly virtue to counteract the disease and spawns of stupidity! As you explore my page, I trust that your destination will lead you to self discovery, because we are ALL reflections of the Intelligent Infinity; in that, what I discover is what you discover, and what you discover is what "we" discover, because although we are unique individuals, we are ONE!



Struggling with Fatherhood Values

Today I was nominated again as an awesome father by one of my black brethren.

I began compiling some of the proudest, happiest, and intimate moments with my son. And as I wrote my response, I sunk into sadness. I drifted towards anger. I slipped into indifference. And I became shackled into paralysis. I observe myself as a good father….when I compare myself to those in prison and those who are absentees. I feel that I am somewhere in the middle on the performance continuum of fatherhood. Those who are closest to me will say that I am a terrific father and all that snazzy jazz, but I never really internalize it. Their judgments faintly impress my consciousness. “An awesome father”. “An outstanding father”. “A great father”. Because…yadda, blah-blah, bam. I never actually “feel” this way about my role though; even if it looks that way on social media. “From the way it looks, John, you are a [insert positive adjective] father”. And on cue, I surrender my gratitude, and that becomes the conclusion. A shallow interaction. A false transaction of empowerment because I refuse to receive the accolades. It feels unearned. It feels unnecessary. I interpret as “socially appropriateness”, even if it is authentic. << and even when that is made known, it’s the “well, let me tell you this…I’m not…I’m this…and I mean”…..(eyes roll). Fatherhood endures to be a very sensitive arena of discussion that I often avoid; sometimes to prevent the whole “let me convince you why I think you’re a great father even though I just said I’m not here to convince you” discussion.

It’s been an enduring progression of recovery from my dissonance with my distant father. I don’t hate him. In fact, I likely talk to him once or twice a year; dialogues that usually conclude with “I love yous”. I revisit this space of conflict on seldom occasions as part of my self-therapy, yet throughout the year, I actively socialize and develop my son. Challenging him. Disciplining him. Rewarding him. Teaching him. Supplying him with tools, resources, and opportunities for his advancement. I don’t perform these acts with paternally-charged elation, but out of necessity in attaining a desired result. And I imagine many black fathers function in a similar pocket. I hold high expectations for my son as any logically-driven father. But, then I see some fathers who drown social media with the minutest of father-son moments. I see fathers who are emotionally expressive. And then there is me – performing less of the aforementioned. I don’t dispose a wealth of sentimental “love yous” or “proud of yous”. A lot of the time, I am void of expressed emotion. When I drop him off at school, he says “bye daddy”, and I reply “aight man” in a tone that semblances a flat soda; this has been routine since I purchased my car last year, which is when I started dropping him off to school. And when we play video games, there’s few laughs and smiles. You can hardly tell the difference between him playing a computer as apathetic as I tend to be.

But do these few examples infer that am I am barren with emotion? No. There have been many moments where I’ll tear up amid his accomplishments and developments. I’ll smile secretly. Chuckle quietly. Cry in solitude. I’ll constantly nag about what he’s doing wrong or what he should be doing. Yet, when he’s exceeded my expectations (and we’re not talking limbo standards here), I let it be known so that he understands that it takes a lot to impress me. So that he strives for the excellence that I strive for in myself. He’s fascinated with technology. Loves anime. Loves gaming. He’s currently enrolled in a gifted education program. An aspiring artist. Endowed with empathy. Quite well mannered. Creative and curious. Soft-spoken. Modest. And his respect for others is substantial.

^^ looks normal, right?
Perhaps it’s part of my gender socialization. The hyper-masculinity (“men don’t show emotion often”). Perhaps, it’s my perfectionism. Perhaps, it’s my militant mindset. Perhaps, it’s my personal experiences with war, poverty, molestation, and an absentee father that authorize my attitudes and behaviors. I am a wounded warrior and a survivor of circumstances; much of which took me years to accept. Maybe, it’s ‘e’, all of the above. But, a quick review of all of our pictures together and separately would persuade your vote for me as a remarkable father, even as I never signed up to campaign for such a judgement. I pay homage to my cultural and genetic contributions towards my resilience, spirituality, and self-determination, which has propelled me here today. It’s not the compliments or the social approval. It wasn’t the church. It wasn’t a monetary incentive. I recognized long ago that I was running away from this conflict. I’ve held a few deep talks with my son regarding my condition and my intentions just so he has insight on who I am at my core. I’m stern with my son, because life has been very stern with me despite its extravagant blessings.

The guilt stems from being somewhat of a deadbeat father. Although I have paid child support in the past, my physical absence enslaved me to a self-created emotional indebtedness. My anger is likely rooted in being deprived of a working model/definition of fatherhood….in real life. My indifference likely rests in the notion that black fatherhood holds a position in my American experience that parallels to the Dalits of the Indian caste system. It seems so dispensable that black culture and black women are convinced that even they can do it. Being raised by mother….perhaps….I believed it to be true (shrugs). My sadness….is cradled in the reality that even if I perceived myself as an extraordinary father….it would feel like a lie. My progress with this challenging role is scathingly tolerable. I’ve been worse off. There’s still work to do.

….And at least I haven’t failed.20160515_221031000_iOS

Ego Strikes Again


Not listening
Ego is deafening
Not visualizing
Ego is blinding
It’s a graffiti painted wall
It’s a filter
It’s a magnetic field
Whatever it is… has cut my umbilical cord
To the outside world
Now Pregnant with Desires
In the form of Chains
Pushing outward, I was
Giving Birth to Control
….Over my environment
The beginnings of my sufferings
Disguised as my pleasures
Not letting anything in
No questions nor suggestions for my mood
No challenges to my feelings
Says ego
…whom guards the storm within me
Deludes me
Protects me…from the truth that hurts
The clarity that purifies and dissolves
The contractual vestment in pleasures
Quarreling with ego
Losing the fight
Addicted to the drama like many others
Flooded with negative thoughts
Grey Clouds that appear in the form of situations
Now a Severe Weather-storm in the forecast
Wind Pressures
From Life’s Gravity, which moves me
Moody with High Temperatures
These are the makings of
….a Movie about my True Nature
A documentary of
An obscure storm
The sound-waves of thunder do not travel fast enough
Nor far beyond for you to receive them
Thinning out over time
Yes…this segment of me may be too dark for you to see
The frictions and afflictions
Sketched as Violet Lightnings
That Strike Violently…Quick
Punching the Air
Snapping and Cracking
The Innocent Skies into Fragments
Looking like Black Shattered Glass
Inside of my vast being
As this is all compressed in a globe the size of a peephole
A Small World within my Universal Self
A sphere of thought
To be thought of as fear
A collaboration of
Rampaging oceans and earthquakes
Present with great movements
And an absent stillness
Nicknamed …”peace”
Whom knows me but we are distant lovers
Incarcerated in one Cell, we once were
For many fallen suns
And since there’s no Conviction
At the moment, we simply don’t Jail (Gel)
Hard Heart
Cemented Feelings
What remains is a Statue of a Storm
Memorializing the life that no longer lives
A Rigid Coagulation of Currents
Sullenly Stubborn
Juxtaposed as a Fighter with a Rocky Role
The ego
A web of fiery desires
A magnetic field
A filter
A graffiti painted wall

A Prey Tale (Saga 1)

~Youthful Cougar~

~Youthful Cougar~


A Queen

With eyes tinted of a Crown Royal hue

That I Sipped from

Inebriated kind of glance

That copiloted her penetrating stance

Finally I blink, Soaked with curiosity

I try to Shake it Off like a Wet Dog

But alas, my attention grasped

Without hands, and no ring on hers

Yet still she jabbed me into surprise by a

Passionate Passive Aggressive gaze

That represents a taste…

..For me

I shy away from the Magnetic Stares

An Elevating Force

That may take me to a smothered place

Rumored where lovers vacate

When life becomes mundane

This is a Tale from Prey

A Pray Tale, per se

Amen…for me

She’s …a Predator

Killer Bank Account

She’s Loaded, Aiming…for me

Her Trigger Squeeze is precise

Her technique is designed

To make my Love Bleed out

That’s what she seeks from this Young Meat

Woman of many Dreams, not a Kruger

But a Cougar, and she’s Hungry

For attention

Let me mention that the Time in her Hourglass frame



Explosively, she’s fine, physically

Cougars don’t Fly

But mentally she’s in the Skyline

Raining Knowledge

While I build my Noah’s Ark

Amongst this Flood of Thoughts

Yea, she’s a Wise Wine

My kind, a Sophisticated Taste

Flavorful Words, we Brew

In a Stew of Dialogue

Emotional Simmer, gave me the shivers

Her Inner Light was familiar

Reflecting on her Spirit

Was like speaking to a clearer mirror

“Have we met before?” I implore

Was explored by her Erotic Intelligence

Mind Fucking me Raw

She Came…inside

And like Two Guitar Strings

We Vibed

Consumed by her Ego

So I’m Stroking hers

With spoken words

Till I slur into a wake-less blur

I’m drowsy

She’s touching me without permission

What’s her mission?

I’ve met bold women, but she’s bolder

Or maybe my erection was harder than one

I don’t know but I notice

How she unclothed my emotions

Lips massaging my shoulder

Over and over

And over to my chest

My breath weighs a ton

About as much as my eyelids

Pants are falling down

Too weak to get up

I look around, sucking sounds

Fill the air, I Blackout

Confused, this does not compute

And like the jazz serenade that colored our space

I fade….

Till I awake, feeling the breeze of time

It blew me into a long stay

Mind alarms me that I need to escape

Dressing slowly, I fasten my pants

Toe Tapping towards the door

Of my car, pedal Hits the Floor like a Shoot Out

Speed limit is 45

The same number of thoughts that race past

Bumping into my Face like Acne

Recollecting events, the suspense

Is venomous, it paralyzed me in confusion

“Was it a dream? An illusion?”

“Where’s my wallet?”

Back pocket, checked it

To my surprise it was Pregnant

With money I’ve never seen

Bulging with a few G’s like a Mafia Movie

I gasp; breathe

“What I have done? What did we say?”

Phone illuminates, it sings

Text message is on the screen

“Thank you for tonight! You were amazing”

“See you next week – heart, heart, wink- smiley face”


…To be resumed

The Yearning


Melting within

Looking at a picture of your delicious physique

The tender chocolate wrappings that cover your sweetheart

Arouses me

So intense, is this feeling to plunge inside your wetness

To feel your warm

To feel your tight

To feel your soft

To be cupped into your embrace

To feel your moan travel through my ear canal

And make itself a home in my mind….again

I imagine the unimagined pleasure taking form in your face

Because I miss it

I miss your love for the pain when you squeeze me into you

The affectionate type of animosity

The whirlpool motion in the hips

Twirling profoundly into our centers

The thrusting….like clashing magnets

The bonding of opposites

The opening of you

The hugging of me

The altitude of orgasm

The pressure in the eyebrows

The stretching of the jaws, and the tremble in the legs

The helplessness that dances with ecstasy

The clenching of the teeth

The reaching without moving a muscle

The volcanic eruption of cream from your inner cave

The white rivers

The quivers

And yet I still I stroke…swim…back in

Decorating my thick and long with your warm, liquid snow


All of these thoughts pour from my ocean of perversions

And I leak them here

Because I was afraid that I would offend, so I pretend

That these thoughts never exist when I speak to you

Instead of being in heat for you, and letting these thoughts drip from my tongue

I’m frozen within, trying to hold myself together

Like a gentleman

But I’m melting….

Nationality vs. Ethnicity





I was engaged in a warm debate over titles. I almost feel guilty because of it (it’s petty! More divisions? [smacks lips]), but the source of the debate erected from the verdict of the Trayvon Martin case. I’m lightly compassionate towards those who feel disgruntled or angry, but my sword of apathy swings at those who aren’t channeling their energy into something constructive to make it heard through the use of their constitution liberties and divine power. A friend (and I do mean that) that I know has the tendency to rant about racial conflicts; ironically that’s his comfort zone for discussion since he’s all about black unity. He’s good hearted, but he exhibits a sort of hyper-imposed black power type of consciousness. He has friends of all hues and ethnicities on his list, but he discredits most views that don’t agree with his or is not from a black person. He’s the type that hates the system, rants about it, but you never see Instagram photos of him fighting the system through protests or community meetings on legislation. He will post against interracial relationships and the western indoctrination before he makes a posts stating that he’s at a college or elementary school educating the youth. As I once stated “he’s like granddad from the Boondocks”. But, I still love the dude. Terrific artist! So, this part of the story begins like this:

I am not American. And neither are my fellow brothers and sisters. We are Africans who happen to BE in America. If we were AMERICAN we wouldn’t have to “Rally” or “Petition” for RIGHTS & LIBERTIES given in the Constitution. If we were AMERICAN our tax dollars would go to a GOVERNMENT that protects the interests of us AND our CHILDREN” – Angelo H.

If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, then you should be wearing the doo-doo brown stink face – yea, it smells sh!tty. But don’t distort my position; I see his intention. He’s partially correct, and partially incorrect. It would seem that I assumed hater status with my replies, but truly, most people who are friends with this guy knows that he talks out of his left nut without supporting works to uphold his claims. This post received 50+ likes, and I’m thinking “um, did anyone think about what he just said?” So I chime in with…

No matter how you reword it, you are an American. The African portion pays homage to your race/ethnicity/lineage, but by proximity and allegiance to the Constitution, you are American. If you have a social security number, you are an American. If you pay taxes to the IRS, you are an American. If you have a job that falls under the umbrella of US Department of Commerce, you are an American; because you are legally employed. If you purchase a passport and you go to Africa, guess what? They’re not going to view you as an African; their government officials will ensure that you are aware of the location of the AMERICAN embassy because in the event of a crisis, you will be accounted for there. Until you change your residence status to a dual citizenship, in which you are partly a resident of Africa, you are an AMERICAN. Otherwise, you are an illegal alien.

You have to remember bro, even the Native Americans had to FIGHT for their freedom. That was their form of a rally and a petition.

Don’t forget, tax dollars are FUNDING the programs on the below website. You’re welcome.


The link (which is authentic) was to remind him that there are government funded programs within the nation that support the impoverished, the elderly, the young, the sick, and the veterans. I follow up with…

Let me also add this….the government is COMPOSED of people that are just like you and myself. In the event that you don’t like how they are managing tax dollars, or governing the people, YOU possess a Constitutional right to petition.

“the United States right to petition is guaranteed by the First Amendment to the federal constitution, which specifically prohibits Congress from abridging “the right of the people…to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

That means you have a voice JUST IN CASE the government is consumed with power because God and humans know how corrupt and unstable we are. Keep in mind the that the BPP were not just n!ggas with guns. They studied the system, and they made it WORK to THEIR advantage. They devised their own rallies because people in power became corrupt. So they took some of it back to restore balance. Sometimes you need to rally and petition, so that elected officials can remember where the true power comes from……THE PEOPLE. And when OUR own are acting out of character you hold them accountable, and you take them out of office using your constitutional rights and your divine power.

Being American has little to do with corruption, because corruption is a spiritual problem…

Then for a while, we started playing tennis with a few ad hominems. I left the through room; dropping the ball. Or so I thought. He then rehashes in a fresh new status update with….

“Negroes are funny. They want to be “IDENTIFIED” with being AMERICAN so bad, want to be so PATRIOTIC. Why are we so LOYAL and FAITHFUL to a SYSTEM/land that has proved time and time again that we are subhuman? A system/land where our ancestors were brought here AGAINST their will(excluding Moors and Negro Indian tribes) and FORCED to WORK for FREE? Then forced to fight WARS for the same people who oppressed us? When the Emancipation Proclamation was signed we switched from CHATTEL SLAVERY to ECONOMIC SLAVERY. But you still want to identify YOURSELF as AMERICAN when your tax dollars don’t protect the INTERESTS of your PEOPLE? You gotta “Rally” or “Petition” for RIGHTS & LIBERTIES given in the Constitution. The same Constitution that said YOU are 1/3rd of a HUMAN BEING? Which is an OVERSTATEMENT” – Angelo H.

I’m thinking “come on; first you tie a rock to your leg, and now you’re going to throw it in deep waters?” (smh) And his entourage was in the front row throwing flowers, screaming “preach”, and going all Spliff Star on the brother, hyping him up. When he said “I wish John Nicholson could GET IT!” that’s when I felt compelled to interject.

No bro, you don’t get it. Until I can LEAVE American soil and legally RENOUNCE my citizenship….I have this brand attached to me. You hate the system, but you aint doing sh!t to change it except talk on Facebook. No apologies here, but I’m more practical than that.

If any of you have ever traveled outside of the continental US, then you would know exactly what I’m talking about. You cannot go to Iraq, Europe, Africa, Cuba, or the damn Virgin Islands saying you’re African when your passport says United States of America. When you travel ANYWHERE in the world, they wanna know what you nationality is…”what is your citizenship status?” It’s going to be America. Sure you are African by LINEAGE…but you are a CITIZEN OF THE UNITED STATES, bro. Legally. I could walk around on us soil saying I’m African, all day everyday….but guess what? I’m still on American soil while LEGALLY classified as an Afrikhan AMERICAN. If I’m going to renounce being American, dammit, I’m going to renounce my citizenship. You do it right! I am currently under DUAL CITIZENSHIP. America and Kuwait. That’s how the sh!t works. When I renounce my citizenship….THEN…I am no longer American.

Saying I’m not American doesn’t make it true if I still have a citizenship. How can you NOT get that? (laughs) I’m funny…no no no (finger waves) YOU’RE FUNNY!

This was an argument about nationality, not ethnicity. And again, you have people liking his status while I’m wearing the stink face. (chuckles) Am I hating or just setting the record straight? Now, for breathing room, some of the onlookers connected with the meaning of my content. You cannot deny being an American when that’s your nationality. Even white South Africans cannot deny being South African because it’s their nationality. Until you renounce your citizenship, you retain a legal allegiance to your designated nation.

Through this jungle of words, I did learn a lot. In the trunk of my conscience, I’ve retained a handful of curiosity of what measures would need to be taken to establish permanent residence in another country if I ever decided to divorce America. Angelo’s post chauffeured that hidden curiosity that I stashed away in my well of subconscious thoughts to the front stage of my conscience. I love the dude; even though many of his posts are normally contradictory, racially fueled, limited, and often deprived in legitimacy. All of this was also linked to an inquiry for my homework assignment that requires me to construct a presentation on a place I’d like to visit. And surely, Africa is one of them. Where at specifically? Well, a few places; Egypt, Ghana, Zimbabwe, Cape Town, Nigeria, JoBurg, Morocco, Kenya, Ethiopia, Tanzania, Rwanda and maybe Congo. I wrote about a dream that I had previously, which involved me being transported to a store somewhere in Africa. I held on to that dream because I felt like I would be there. And now, I’m setting goals. The plan will trail behind as well as the execution when I discover the time (and that rhymes). After my journey to the Middle East, I have developed a hunger to travel to other places. My plate is full; I just gotta reach out and digest. I wish to be able to say that I’ve went to Africa; and whether I stay or not, I wish to be able to say that I’ve lived there with my own account of what it means to be culturally in tune with my ethnic roots. Plus, it really shuts people up in debates when they say “why don’t you go back to Africa?” When someone counter argues with “I did….for 3 years…and I decided I wanted to be an American again” then it really crunches eyebrows like “Oh…well…I would’ve stayed with my people” (side eyes)….right….because you know that life in Africa is better than in America. After living an American way of life, it’s a cultural earthquake adapting to another…especially when it’s not as enriched and convenient as the previous. From all of this, I’m just thankful that I’m not an extremist for black love and black power. I’m thankful that I’m not prejudiced and particular of one culture, ethnicity, or race. I feel like…why choose one when I can taste them all? Why only limit myself to Georgia when I can be all over the US. Why only study Christianity when I can study Taoism too? Why be Conservative, when I can be Liberal today, Communist tomorrow, and Democratic and Republic within the hours of each other? Loyalty? Well I tell you what, when the tide changes, sometimes the things that you are loyal to become your travel guide to destruction. Human’s have survived and died from commitment to their values. I just seek more options; more resources, meaning more freedom, in case I need to adapt to the changes of the tide. Every culture and belief system is designed for a set of conditions. And since conditions change, I want to be able to adapt.

Intelligence should be fluid always, and mechanical when necessary.


Retrospection Album Review


Ever so often, I’m motivated to do an album review…..well, really when I just have the time. I usually stray away from the flanks of mainstream Hip Hop albums because there’s not a lot of creative freedom and substance there. So I stick with the underground artists who are not caged by industry standards of musical composition.

Listeners, be advised that this work is sprinkled with explicit content. Not that you need to carry much concern because as oxymoronic as it may sound, these expletives are tastefully placed throughout the verses. This isn’t the 90’s gangsta rap that’s bubbling over the top with gunplay, drug connects, hood affiliations, and misogynistic rhetoric. But if you are cuss-word sensitive, proceed with strength and impartiality.

Senegalese Lyricist, Djiby Diagne packages a delicate rendition of his thoughts, aspirations, observations, and experiences in this 20-track compilation titled Retrospection; which is truly a 1-hour journal threaded with progressive Hip Hop beats. Djiby unsheathes his harmonizing skills unabashedly throughout, exclaiming a statement of versatility. He’s no Anthony Hamilton, but he packs some melodic prowess to back-up his lyrical dexterity. As a harmonizer myself, I can see that he’s still growing into his voice. The production is more in season of the progressive Hip Hop which excludes traditional scratching, includes a light sampling, and exudes the use of synthesized melodies. He borrows a couple of instrumentals from his favorite artists and gives his own spin as a means to pay tribute to the Hip Hop influentials. Djiby takes advantage of the moods that swim snuggly within the beat by carefully selecting content, emotion, and nonchalant cadence that are more complimentary than a breakfast in bed. Add in a blush of sound engineering (chops & screws, vocal distortions), and you have a colorful montage of the artist known as Djiby. What I can appreciate about this Pot-Pie of musical humanism is the moderation of ego-stroking. Every track isn’t a testament of how he’s the best, but the whole body poses as an honest demonstration to being young, ambitious, experimental, and in search for deeper meaning on his path to evolution.

The first dish for musical consumption is “Retrospection”, which has a chill mode-type of ambiance. And as he states in the chorus “Yea…this a whole ‘nother feeling// got me feeling like I’m way above the ceiling”. This track is a suitable jump off for what’s to come in the album. He provides intricate details about his relationship to his environment and his direction in life. He seems to affirm his role as the witty yet melodic captain of this flight. Then, there’s a smooth shift into “Hold Me Down” as he maintains the tempo and the vibe from the previous. This track capitalizes on his melees as a teen (including with ladies) and he even breaks into commentary from reporters and inquiring minds of the masses. The drum kicks like a Skateboarder in “I’m Not the Same”. He maintains intimacy with the audience as he relates his pasts, presence, and ambitions. In an eerie sorta way, the hook is quite infectious. I had this one on repeat for quite a few rotations; humming along because of the melody laced in the piano strokes was so complimentary. I was echoing “tomorrooooow….tomorroooow” throughout. Wily lines like “I remember not remembering what used to be happening” Stand Out like Wolverine’s Adamantium Claws; called for a rewind for added digestion. So far, Djiby has done a solid job in revealing who he is in the first 4 entrees. And now, cue the synths and electro-effects and “Visions” descends from the clouds maintaining the tempo of the previous. Traphique tag-teams the beat with Djiby catering high-quality lyricism and machine-gun delivery. If you’re looking for the conventional verse-chorus-verse-chorus rhyme structure, put it on the Milk Carton because it’s not here; and that’s actually a good thing. This display of artistic freedom is risqué, and often left unexplored in contemporary rap. Although this isn’t a competition, lyrically, Traphique held more gravity. It seems Djiby’s fashion sense extends to his selection of quality artists. So far, this is the most lyrically heavy track in the album. Now, we slow it down a little with “Smoking Mirrors” with LJ sharing the beat. This one is quite somber in setting, but it parallels the content as this vigorous duo exploits their disappointments with fake friends. Getting accustomed to Djiby’s smooth voice, he even gives a shout out to Allah hinting his religious affiliation while consequently playing on Tyler the Creator. LJ definitely holds his own insinuating brash emotion and a multi-syllabic cadence with his material.

And then we rest into a controversial interlude titled “Hoes and Money”. It comes off as a little chaotic with the blend of added sound effects, singing, and an overwhelming instrumental.  Sonically speaking, it wasn’t pleasing to my ears, but it seems to be a necessary bridge between “Smoking Mirrors” into “L.O.L” (Love Over Lust). Djiby reels us in on his good judgment between gold-diggers and real women, and his views on each as he hums in the backdrop with tune.

Now, there is a large torso of this body of work that is conscious and bitterly positive in nature. Djiby reports the nature of the world without discounting himself, letting us know that he’s aware of his environment, and partially a product of it. And if you expected Jay-Z and Tupac to act as keynote speakers on this flight called Retrospection, then good for you! The God MC, although sampled, makes a guest appearance in the induction of “Hip Hop”. So we know that Mr. Carter is one of Djiby’s artistic influences. “Hip Hop” is an interpretive ballad about the state of Hip Hop. He throws a few daggers at the uncompromising ignorance that taints it (branching from corporate titans), and even rolls a few grenades in YMCMB’s direction, voicing the mantra of industry sales’ influence on the quality of Hip Hop music. Djiby preserves the conscious substance, and plants it in “221 State of Mind” which is coated with another electronic, ambient, chilly mood, and booming drum line. “Gotta make sure your attitude match you’re grind”, Djiby chimes in “The White Flag”, which carries the feel of a conscious revolution type of anthem.  Out of all three, “The White Flag” resonates with me the most. The feel, the substance, and the organization are captivating.

And now we slow it down yet again with another interlude from yours, poetically, John Skywalker in “The Third Eye”. Djiby harmonizes in the backdrop while Mr. Skywalker delivers poetic dialogue about acknowledging one’s own ignorance and changing self. Yet this truly serves to bridge the gap between the need for a conscious revolution, and being infatuated and motivated by a woman. This brings us to “Drown your Sorrow”. This 1-min introduction was good, but the singing was not so fitting. I feel that he could’ve selected different notes to seep into the beat. Regardless, it was a sensible stage to launch into “Candles and Condoms” <<< That’s right! Sounds funny, but it’s really on the A/C tip as he opens up with “Baby, you’re autumn time fine, got me falling to your toes// Look at me, Chris Brown, eat you up, fine dine” If you haven’t guessed by now, this is an erotically charged track pumped with numerous sexual innuendos to arouse the lovers out there. And as funny as this is going to sound…I love “The Hate”. I’m not too partial to the drum kit because it seems recycled from some of the other songs. The chorus sticks to my conscience and Djiby did a good job in harmonizing along with the atmosphere of the angelic voice in the backdrop. This is essentially a breakup song as he hashes out wordplay-laced truths like “I like that she was blunt, so I’m smoking trying to forget her// Aint never sugar-coated, regardless she turned to bitter”. Hey, all relationship dynamics don’t have to last forever, right? Holding a grudge just slows you down. Another infectious chorus with some smooth harmonizing reels my ears in as “The Moment” enters the scene. I actually feel the mood of the beat – that doesn’t happen a lot. In this part of our flight, Djiby reverts to his old habits and maintains the pace when he transitions to “Devil in a New Dress” as it is sewn into the Kanye-crafted instrumental from My Beautiful, Dark, Twisted Fantasy. “The ocean’s empty, and now she’s the only fish” is a picture painted by Djiby, who is now seated in sorrow about his recent break-up. Regretful of how he didn’t take pictures in the moments to reminisce about and how excited the pain is within his heart, he wants to escape his travesties through parties, friends, and alcohol. This is apparently a cycle of love-wanderlust that Djiby is encased in as he ends it with “I’m an angel stuck with my old habits// She a devil in a new dress, so yes, I gotta have it

“Locomotion” is a track that I’m not too pleased with because it’s part of the wave of music that’s currently permeating the Hip Hop radio stations. But these narrators are speaking about a type of female that’s charmed by sex, social status, and drugs. Djiby lightly drifts into a short story about a double-minded female whom would’ve ignored him if it weren’t for the influence that he carries. And advertising the theme of pill-popping and hoe-smashing, Kid JD carries a flow that’s similar to 2 Chainz, which kinda leaves me unimpressed. But he catered the topic very well, and held his own. MC Element, despite the content, was definitely charismatic and unpredictable in his approach. It was still enjoyable in combat with my preference. “The Vices” (homonym of “Devices”) is definitely turnt-up production-wise and lyrically. This track is drenching with braggadocio bravado, and the chorus that behaves as a mantra for an esteemed capitalist. This is definitely one of the more outstanding party tracks of the album. And trailing behind is “Peanuts to Elephants” with another guest star appearance from Kuwaiti-born, Cali Budd blazing, MC Element. This is another self-proclaiming track where both lyricists acknowledge their freedom to being themselves in the webs of duality – ignorant by choice, fearless of the consequences, but maintaining some sense of intelligence. I’m not a fan of the instrumental’s drum kit but the lyrical substance and the synths compensates for it. I’ve really been digging MC Element’s mic presence and the vigor behind his words throughout this compilation.

Nearing the conclusion of this flight, we reach “The Crossroads” featuring Guled. Djiby borrows the Roots-inspired “You Got Me” instrumental to convey a spiritually-doused message about salvation and guidance. Guled adds his own flavor to spice up the creativity in the song and make it a little irregular to those who may be stuck on the melody of the original. Props to how Guled ends it – good blend of highs and lows with the emotion. And now, this 1-hour journal closes with “The Love” featuring Angela Nethersole. This one is a little gloomy, but it still reeks of hope, self-discovery, and growth. Angela delivers a fantastic resonance in the chorus which leads into a Kanye influenced “18 years…18 years// and my 18th birthday, I lost touch with the real” by Djiby. That was quite profound as the rest of the track is a 4-min revelation of what life is all about….the love. I think this was a great way to end this work of art.

Overall, it’s definitely a worthy listen with a lot of songs worthy of repeating. Some of it is relatable to a large audience, and some of it isn’t. It’s a solid debut album that was consistent with a theme. I love how it was carefully arranged, and how the track titles and moods were stitched together sensibly. The instrumentals were very moody, which is good, but I think some of the drum kits were recycled too much for my pleasure (it’s only because I hear them a lot in today’s music) which strips away a little bit of originality. The sound engineering and vocal clarity was also up to par. Djiby rationed his features in a way that lets me know that he’s very resourceful as an artist. The album is about Djiby, but he was unafraid of allowing other artists to share his vision. Conceptually, I like that he’s religiously grounded, and in the process of an awakening, as that’s what the community of songs suggests. Undoubtedly, Djiby has made his mark in Hip Hop culture; maybe not on a popular scale, but he’s giving back a little of what Hip Hop has given to him. He’s not rapping for the fame, he’s rapping for the love. There’s a lot of room of growth in many things, and this debut album is a sign that Djiby is a true student of lyricism and art.

Retrospection by Djiby


Download: https://soundcloud.com/djibymusic/sets/retrospection-ep

I’m not the Same Music Video

One Father’s Day

Zae and Dad Weird Face 4

Today, I feel a dash of apathy in my flavorful soul. I really didn’t want to write this because I don’t want people to know how I feel. I don’t want people to see me this naked and unprotected. But as one of my assignments from my psychology class, I figured I’d medicate myself by breathing life onto this blank landing pad. I said that I’d work on my emotional intelligence by stating how I feel. It’s always “what do I think” because I’m always in my head. The truth is that I feel more solace in my head than I do with my emotions; chaotic to the idea that emotions speak in a way that the mind cannot comprehend.

Oh, how brittle I feel in this unpinned moment.


I saw your picture today, pop; and it almost seems unfair to me that it came to me faster than these words are arriving cordially late on this blank landing pad. I’m enduring a psychology class that deals with relationships, and in this moment I recall an assignment where I was to select 5 relationships that mattered to me the most. Out of those fabulous 5, I was to select one that I felt that needed development. You weren’t even in the top 5. And I remember at age 5 that you were. I remember at age 6 that my eyes deployed tears as if they were going to flow to you. And that you would recognize that there could only be one reason why there was a tiny stream of tears in your path. The imaginations of a little boy; faintly innocent huh? I’ve been in my skin for almost 29 years, and I’m thankful that little boy is not dead. Sure, he’s a bit buried by the webs of experience, but he’s still alive housing my imagination. And it’s rare when my imagination grips me by the palm, and takes me to those golden days when we were close. Instead, the logic that I’ve inherited from you has cuffed me by the wrist, and pulled me to the eternal now saying “those days are over, move on, bro”. And on most days, I move farther and faster than the Man of Steel. But do I want to be that hard? How Super of a Man would I be to attempt to save the world, and leave my son to suffer?

Overwatching Zae

One of my most penetrating fears is that my son will feel brittle about me with the same texture that I feel about my father. That he will one day develop an uncanny ability to poeticize and philosophize about life as a consequence of not being able to express his feelings….about me. I fear that one day he will look at me, mid-20-something, accomplished, handsome and distinguished, and say “dad…what took you so long to come back for me? I know I heard you say that you were going to come back for me. What happened? What were you doing? Did you get lost? I mean, you stopped calling to the point that I forgot how you looked. My mom had to remind me that I was created in the image of you. My mom had to remind me that you went chasing money as a means to find a way for us to be together. So what did I do? I went chasing money as a means to find a way for us to be together. And here I am today; 20 years later, pop. I’ve always had the money for us to be together; you taught me how to love money without even having to be here. What took so long for me to reach out was…. was that I was afraid….I was afraid that you weren’t as sensitive as I was about seeing you. I denied my feelings for so long, that I just stayed in my head. Heh, but check it, though; I’m one of the most distinguished professional in my industry because of how pragmatic and dedicated I am. Like, word up, I make soooo much money for my company, pop. We gets it in! They nicknamed me Terminator, cuz I be killing the game; machine-like, ya know? (chuckles) Am I married? Nah, heh. Most of my relationships didn’t last no more than 6 months. They always say that I’m bottled up and sh!t, and…and that I don’t express how I feel. They say I’m repressed and…and….that I close them out. You know women be trippin’ though, heheahah; overly emotional over nothing. And they’re supposed to be understanding, right? Hehe, perfect gentleman, though! Charming, intelligent, spiritual, generous, articulate, and all of that blah. They be loving how a brotha put it down in the bedroom (chuckles). It’s crazy pop! When they threatened to leave, I’d shrug them off, and let them go; not one tear from me! Nope. I’d even pray that they found someone better, because I knew I wasn’t enough. I never believed that I was enough. (shrugs) but… whatever. I’m happy with being alone, ya know? I am who I am.


The thought of receiving a dose of this poison makes me want to implode. “They’re just words”, I would convince myself. I’d do this just to stay in my head; further away from my emotions with thoughts at the speed of sight.


I called you yesterday, pop. My ex-girlfriend inspired me to call you. I don’t really celebrate Father’s Day, so I figured I’d call early just to talk. I left you a voicemail. But I knew you wouldn’t call back. I heard through my mother than you were in jail late May, so I didn’t expect you to have your phone activated. I just….didn’t want anyone saying that I was irresponsible in trying reach out. Last time I reached out to you, I wrote a letter and sent it to you on Facebook. But, heh, I know you’re not active on social networking. Maybe, inherently, I knew you wouldn’t get that message. Heck, it took me years just to add you as a “friend”. (chuckles) does that mean I perceived you as the enemy before? I don’t know. I did my best to avoid some the choices that you made. I made sure that I took plenty of pictures with my son, so that he will know that he was made in my image. I want him to know that I travelled the world and back just to see him. I quit jobs and turned down job offers just so that I can connect with him; hard times together are more valuable than easy money, sometimes. I never resorted to pimping, prostitution, gang-relations, weapons or drug trafficking. But I was a consumer. I never went to jail, and I never hit a woman. I did raise my voice once to my ex-wife, though. It was just that one time out of the 8 years that we were together. It was when I discovered that she was involved with another man; a man who was emotionally available for her. What did I expect, there? (shrugs) And as of today, I only have one son. It was surprising to know that I had an older sister, and more surprising that I had another younger one. I’m doing my best not to be the antagonist in this life, pop. And I’m doing my best to make sure you’re not perceived as the antagonist. I don’t hate you. I do understand why you are the way you are. I had to go through it myself. And I don’t think people understand that about fathers who abandon their kids. I did it too; just so I would know. Just so I wouldn’t judge and impose my views, but rather accept things as they are and change what was my responsibility. Today, I understand you and a lot of men in this world….even if I don’t agree with the choices.


As I write this, I’m hearing a little boy outside of my hotel room calling for his dad. “Daddy……daddy…..dad……….dad” Coincidence? Maybe. If it’s one thing that I know about becoming a man, it’s accountability. Mom taught me that. The education system taught me that. The US Army taught me that. And I know that I’m accountable for my relationship with you and my son. I haven’t perfected my solution, but I’m still in the process. I still feel undeserving in a lot of ways. Like when my son sang a song to me yesterday when I called. He sang “I love you, and you love me. Cuz I love yoooou, and you love me.” For almost 2 minutes. And no matter how sentimental that moment seemed, it could surmount the reality that I’m here, and he’s there. I almost felt numb; but I didn’t let my ego block this blessing. I wanted to apologize to him, ya know? I wanted to tell him that I’m sorry I wasn’t there for him to give me his version of a Father’s Day gift. I wanted to tell him that I’m sorry I wasn’t there for his graduation to the 2nd grade…or his first day in the 1st grade. I wanted to tell him that I’m sorry that we couldn’t spend more quality time together this summer because I’m out here seeking higher education and a job so that he’ll have what he needs to live. I’m sorry for not having a house after all of those years of paper-chasing. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to welcome him to Earth when he was born; I was preparing for my deployment to Iraq. I’m sorry for all of the extensive moments of emotional absence. Seeing him twice a year isn’t enough for me either. I’m sorry I that I don’t call as often as I should. I’m sorry for placing so much distance between us. I’m sorry that we can’t play the XBOX together on Saturday mornings, exercise together, or read books and study in the same space. One of the reasons I kept this content concealed is because I always get >>> “Don’t be so hard on yourself, John”. That’s not what I want to hear. (sighs) I guess that’s why I write my feelings down before I reveal them to others. The paper is more of a mirror; it reflects. It doesn’t talk back; it echoes. Heh, too hard on myself….ya know… it’s ironic because my son’s mother says I’m too soft. Again, this isn’t a rant or a call for encouragement, sentiments, or compassion. I’m a good father, this I know. I have the experience, the witnesses, and the pictures to prove it. And I don’t even think my father is a bad father. He’s been with my little brothers during their childhood; heavens, at least they were fortunate to know him so well. I understand my father and the reason he made his choices, which gave rise to our distant existence. I take so many pictures to capture these quick-paced motions through space. So that one day, when my son asks “where did you go all of this time?” I can show him that while I was gone, I was growing. I was preparing. And when he sees the places I’ve been, the things I’ve done, the people I’ve met, the life I’ve lived, he can say to himself that despite all of my works, I gravitated back towards him. He can say to himself “wow, that’s my ..my dad right there. If he can do all of those things, so can I


I feel a certain way when people give praise to “The fathers and not the sperm donors”….I’m like “what exactly do you seek to accomplish there? To me, that’s an ignorant distinction. First off, without that sperm donor, um…would that child even exist? And I definitely don’t feel better about the distinction considering that I am a father legally, biologically, and by experience. Making those sh!tty ass distinctions doesn’t make me feel good about being a father. A portion of my fatherhood depends on my donation of a sperm to the egg. This means that my genes are in that seed! My influence is with that child before television, school, and culture are. I understand the intention, but if there was any reason to possibly inspire a few irresponsible men to become more fatherly, making that distinction ruins it. A man being present in a boy (or girl’s) life doesn’t automatically qualify him as “father status”. You see this dude every day at home; he’s f!cking your mom and living with ya’ll like an extended roommate. He doesn’t help you study. He doesn’t teach you how to be a gentleman, or what to look for in one. He doesn’t teach you how to play Call of Duty or make dreams more dense. He whoops your ass when you make bad grades, but doesn’t say sh!t when you make A’s and B’s. He doesn’t ask what you strive be when you grow up, or even cares about your passions. He tells you to do things that his ass wouldn’t do; authoritative ass. He straight up doesn’t know you and doesn’t care. But you love him because he paid the bills, and keeps your mom in a decent place sexually. Have you ever heard a boy tell his step-dad “you’re not my dad!!!”? Imagine being a step-parent; told by a child “you’re not my real mommy/daddy….you’re just a provider!” Some would get mad! Why? Because there’s some truth to it. You’re not the biological parent, but you’re a legal guardian. You’re partly a father/mother. We often give more value to the nurturing/disciplinary/providing aspect of being a parent, and diminish the biological contribution. Many children feel a connection with their biological legacy, and seek to resolve the separation in their own way. My son has had numerous step-father’s in my absence, yet no matter how present they are, it cannot surmount the inherent desire of him wanting to be closer to me. To feel complete by knowing where he came from and who’s image was he made in, despite the fact that what matters most is who you are forever in the moment of now.
Below, we have a man who’s present in the little boy’s life. Yet, what is the assumption here?

Son: “Daddy, I fell in love & want to date this awesome girl!”
Father: “That’s great son. Who is she?”
Son: “It’s Sandra, the neighbor’s daughter”
Father: “Ohhh I wish you hadn’t said that. I have to tell u something son, but you must promise not to tell your mother. Sandra is actually your sister.”

The boy is naturally bummed out, but a couple of months later

Son: “Daddy, I fell in love again n she is even hotter!”♥♥
Father: “That’s great son. Who is she?”
Son: “It’s Angela, the other neighbor’s daughter.”
Father: “Ohhhh I wish you hadn’t said that.
Angela is also your sister.”

This went on couple of times and the son was so mad, he went straight to his mother crying.
Son: “Mum I am so mad at dad! I fell in love with six girls but I can’t date any of them because daddys their father!”
The mother hugs him affectionately and says: “My love, you can date whoever you want. Don’t listen to him. He isn’t your father.”
Son Fainted


All in all, I just want to say joyful Father’s Day to the educated who educate their children, and the under-educated men who try. Joyful Father’s Day to those who protect, provide, and discipline. Joyful Father’s Day to the sperm donors; whether responsible or irresponsible, without you, the child wouldn’t exist. Joyful Father’s Day to the uncles – because yea, sometimes when the other man isn’t around, you’re the substitute. Joyful Father’s Day to those who pay child support and have no visiting rights – if that little bit you paid was sh!t to nothing, she would dismiss the court order. Joyful Father’s Day to the women who claim to be mothers AND fathers; if you’re a father and a mother, then you’re asexual in nature. And by my standards, that’s the only way you can celebrate both holidays.


Praying that my emotional intelligence elevates in time; I actually felt more here than I thought.


After writing this…I feel like my inner child was reaching out to me…..(sighs)

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