February 2012
40 posts
Oathe
We promised on our birthdays
We would always give each other
Gifts
Even though we have no money
Usually it was drugs or alcohol
Usually drugs since alcohol is
Expensive and I smiled for grappling
And brawling and homemade cakes
and traditional food
A family of bastards
Still a family though
Neverending
First it was mixed martial artists calling out Chris Brown
Then the President of L.A. Boxing
Now CM Punk is calling him out
There’s alot of love in fighting
I don’t think fighters have any for Chris Brown
Short Stories Together
When it dawned on me
as I sat outside for 2 hours
My first dojo closed
Something broke in me again
Not physical like my groin pull
I had no goodbyes and no
way to keep in touch
I lost not a house but a home
Life isn’t dictating the future from the past
But I guess I carry something with me
I walked away from the gym smiling
Something made me warm
Something made me full
I...
Disconnect
So when my grandfather died
Someone rummaged through his stuff during the funeral
And stole the deed to the temple
Without a meeting of the council
Everyone talks but no one does a thing
Politics is a game of the weak
I’d rather just brawl
The equality in our hearts shouldn’t blind us to the inequality of society.
Pain of Change
At night my knees crackle
My tendons harden and tick bones
Calfs and forearms tensed to skin
Size creates burns at every bend
Scabbed knuckles are futile
They rip everyday
There’s blood under my hair
And wooziness in my skull
It never ends
The body breaks and turns purple
The mind numbs as eyes roll
The heart falters eventually
The soul is eternal so I never stop
1 year
I remember gift cards
Use to make or have a shitload
Instead of Valentine’s day
We went to the buffet at a casino
I remember happy birthday sung
At a table composed of 17 old men
And we were like shit that’s dope
they probably went to war together
And in our hearts we felt it before
It dripped out of our mouths
None of us would ever live to their age
The Years of February
“Oh grandmother your life brings me to not live in ink or sounds but action”
Every Valentine’s day I write my
grandmother cards
Every holiday and February 19
I bring flowers to my
Father and grandfather
Every birthday I forget and spend my
day changing the world as others
celebrate my birth more than I ever
thought I was worth
Endure Pressure
“Osu”
My way wasn’t ever with phones
or written words
My support and love has always been
words and gestures
mostly time spent and action
Over the years my body tires
as my family of loved ones grows
as time shows I’m the only one
There and willing
I’m never here; I’ll always be there
Eyes closed as tires are hammered and
bags go into seizure as the...
“If you treat an individual as he is, he will remain how he is. But if you treat...”
– Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (via elige)
Registered Weapons?!
An intent to break jaws
differs from knowledge and ability to
My hands bound
Love is violence as it is non-violence
I learned control but never to strangers
Who oppose
My words and body itches to bleed them when it isn’t so severe
“The heart is like a garden. It can grow compassion or fear, resentment or love....”
– Buddha (via elige)
Pounds
Bills were not consuming
As much as I sold
In time price was equivalent
To my dinners for two at dinners
I tired of the life for I was
…a saint in many eyes
My fall and struggle meant more
For it showed I am human
And a saint
In work and the dojo I still held
the gaze of many
For my lesson to teach isn’t
what you are to society
It’s who you are to others
Linsanity
Sometimes I still smell the uneasy
freshness of education
a sea of unknown paths and adventures
I smell the hopelessness of crime
and labor more
Comfortable yet morbid in routine
A constant fight just for days to stay
Home
The most numbing smell is stagnant
Moments spent alone between days
And nights divided by night and day
A stagnant growth of books and
shadow boxing archaic as...
1 tag
The Trashcan
I remember college and 2 months worth
of laundry
5 hours of labor
I use to stare inebriated at overpriced
laundry baskets until I just
bought a trashcan
All black, lidded, and handlebars with wheels
Dope
until people kept leaving trash in it
I had I guess a gang and I brought it
To my home city and it was tagged
Markers, spray paint, and stickers
it’s empty now… but I...
Overtime
Ever since my injury, I began
To wake to the stench of
warehouse,
Blood, tires, and sweat
I remember like the memories
Of drugs, alcohol, and fragrances
and the smell of sorrow, death, and
the sublime of hopelessness
Then I realize I’ve always had a cold
We Are Born As Children And Respected As Adult
I see innocence in everyone
We were all children
Even though I stole it didn’t mean
I wasn’t a kid
The gold I was garnished with
Was a sign of poverty
Something to sell during war
And the death of my family
There is no coming of age in my
Community
Fighting is a part of life
Never raised blind to violence and suffering
I kept my innocence
I see love and I still smile...
Question
“Well…. They believe in me. Most
importantly they’re the ones no one
believes in. But they got love for me. I
carry them in my heart and I’m never
alone. “
The Violence Of My Heart
I use to chase anyone who cut me off
Hop out when they arrived at the mall,
Pizza hut, or Cold Stone
I didn’t give a fuck
“wassup bitch”
I’d woop everyone’s ass
Ohh man Jaywalkers
I knick them with my cars
Park, stroll, and converse
“you have five seconds to walk back
with me to the sidewalk and wait for the
shiny walking man or I’m punching one...
Thoughts In The Commencement Of Battle
I’ve been alone all my life
Everyone knows this loneliness
It’s where my drug, love, and strength came from
Not really
Either dazing off uncomfortably
with a mob of people
Or alone restless
I still wake up every morning
This is my life
I’m fucking awesome
hustle and grind another day
I’ve spent continuous days without food
I’ve spent days sharing quarters...
What's the Definition?
As a boy I knew no one could overcome me
Horrible was my life, horrible is my life
But I knew love and it is ether
I have injuries now
That never will heal
Physical scars of missing cartilage
Even though I buckle
And in age my piercings are gone
My soul is the ether for many
Only my body is vincible
Well...
I’m pretty lazy sometimes but
I end up dragging myself half asleep
To the gym
Sometimes I want to train my hardest
But I know I can’t with pulled muscles
Doing the right thing
Sometimes is doing something we don’t want to do
David And Goliath
Every time I go flying armbar
On giant guys
With my gumbie legs
I’m literally hanging
upside down going
>:D “ohh yeah”
*wiggle wiggle wiggle…..wiggle?*
Then Goliath....
“omg it’s not working”
D:
cries a little inside
slam slam to a body slam
@______@
Then I cry a little inside…..again
.____.
You Say Brutal; I Say Raw
Fighters differ
For they fight instead of play
The body becomes art in movement
Infinite techniques and counters
Heart becomes the fuel
Fighters must sculpt their own bodies
They feel the pain of their own labors
And never wonder if but when they will be injured
In the love of art they return to activity before they are healed
Trying to transcend levels with conditioning and wisdom yet...
All Bodies Move Different
I love the air in battle
Opposition takes form and a bubble forms between two
Range of arms concerned on the art of movement
A chess game with infinite moves modified by speed, strength, stance, and heart
Most importantly differing bodies
Bodies which are not alike
Personally I love the blur of my fists and
Catching two knuckles on the eye transferring hands
To grab and twist my leg up and...
“The Real you, the very core of You—is untouchable, unstoppable and unlimited....”
– Cheryl Lee Harnish (via elige)
Two Actions
Ironic my sleepless nights jumping rope
I decided to spend my youth questioning
Not if but when I’d be arrested
Now when will I break my bones
Almost 22 contempt in leaving marks
Impromptu actions will never beat chess foresight
Striving for strength and wisdom
Discerns vanity
A majority of the time I don’t know what the fuck is going on but…
All I know is how to fight...
Remember Who We Are And Why We Truly Fight
I don’t understand how people
Listen to bass before and while they work out
I can’t drown out myself
I need some Johnny Cash or Neko Case
I train with soreness and bruises all over my body
My fists bleed as I do pushups on them
I feel no pain because it’s about training my heart and I need to hear my own courage
I need to hear my own pain and embrace it and go on with...
Maybe Life Is Unfair; Okay
Overtime I turn simple
I’m not forgetting my past
I’m not forgetting the people
Who were with me in my worst
I’m on the next chapter
And I carry a smile
For all the people and events in my past
Everything overcame and every smile given
Even though my life was never at the starting line
I’ve trained all my life for the journey
After struggling and my heart growing...
Art School
The Gentle Art Mondays
Sweet Science Tuesdays
Society of The Ultimate Truth with a taste of Greco Roman Wednesday
More Gentle Art Thursday
Art of Nine Limbs of Death Friday
