I ALWAYS WANTED TO FREE THE BIRDS FROM THEIR CAGES.
A smile of secret bliss etched across my face when I was finished with this piece.
An expression of the struggle to get beyond the iron or bronze bars that keeps us on the same repetitive cycle.
Be it an ideal, an old wise tale, or the words of others and the negative outlooks we allow to determine our day to day.

I just never knew where to start. There are so many excuses that bind the mind.
People would ask me, “Why have you seen so many cages?”
All I could tell them was I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I should have told them, I was in the right place at the right time, for when we walk in the spirit never are we in a cage, but on the mission field to help others see the light.
There is a lot of darkness in the places that I have been and not all of them are apparent because not all of them where physical prisons.
For example I have not spent my entire life behind prisons walls. Like a lot of men and women I know. It was only six years and not all at once. Three years in one state, and three years in another state. So when I was free, there was a lot of space for me to work and live productively in society, yet I found that there is very little difference in the mindset of the prisoner sitting in a DOJ facility and that of one of the five, “murder capitals,” of the United States. Can you imagine, they call these cities that were the god-fathers of the industrial revolution, “Murder Capitals,” now, There streets are filled with innocent blood of men and women that simply desire what every American desires. PEACE.
Books have been written and millions have been sold to glorify a mindset and language that proves to only degrade and liberal colleges endorse them.
<<<<<<<Denzel’s only Oscar>>>>
<<<<<He did say one good thing in that movie, “THINK”>>>>>
I went to a church the other day, for a funeral of friends that I do not know and I saw there dedications to the black agenda and the constant need for mission out reach in our, “Inner Cities.” I just could not help but wonder what the pastor got out of our black cinema that is positive. So tired I have become of black pastors telling me that it was the, “MAN,” that put you there. I always get this feeling of dejection and accountability and a need to explain to them that what I saw was more than just a black problem. I saw white boys, black boys, Spanish boys, Asian boys not men but boys in those boxes. Boys barley old enough to grow hair on there chests. Useless in there minds and thus useless in there spirits. Oh but they worked the fields and when they get out there is a nice government check waiting for them cause they are too clinical or institutionalized to think for themselves.
Then the church says in order to stop this degradation of the human mind we need to control what our children watch and who they are around. I suppose that is a start. Then why did you give a spokesperson of your community an Oscar for the very actions you despise.
I can go on and on and on…I love this topic cause everywhere I go I see it and I want to help but the moment I say, “Begin to live on a higher standard,
stop wearing your pants below your bum: if you knew that stuff started so that homosexual men in prison could tell the difference between a man who would fight or a man who would roll over, I bet you would stop then.
Don’t call me your “NIGGER, or NIGGA.” We all know the history of the word even those who say it and in hopes of not being hurt by it they wish to indulge in it are a bane to my existence.
I loose half my audience and those that wish to indulge in sin they loose me.
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You know I have played all sorts of music and I am not opposed to the sounds that make us feel good. I am all about feeling good and sweating the night away. I love even the art that can be produced from it.
I am just betwixt when that culture can no longer dance to a tune that is defined by love.
I knew a young woman that wanted to take me to a club, she wanted to show me how to dance with her to the sounds and well it looked like the same movements that should be had behind closed doors. “why would I share that with the world?”
I was young so I was allowed to ask.
Now ask that same person to dance to the sounds of Miles Davis and she can’t. Ask that same person to dance to
The Rat Pack and she is as dizzy as
“always doing that think thing with her hands”
Never focused on the music but the audience. This was the argument of the Church in 1944 and not much has changed. drunkenness, lack of a work force or any real culture is still prevalent and it would seem in our communities the desire of a perfection in our person and in our craft is as passé as it has ever been. I try not to be a critic, though I come off that way, I am just observant and want to be around people that are just as ambitious as I when it comes to the arts. Not to be afraid to try new things but to remember where it is supposed to lead to. I used to think all roads lead to Rome, not matter where I roam, I know I will feel at home. Then I got a little wiser there is only one straight and narrow way. Some day I am going back and it will sure be more than home.
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The original piece of art is to be sold for $1000.00. That is one dollar for every memory of when you chased freedom. That is one dollar for every dream you allowed to slip between your fingers. One dollar for every time someone decided to imprison your worth behind false hopes and or an assassination attempt upon your character. That is one dollar for every door that may have been shut to your dreams of achievement.
This is a spurring to your soul, an out cry for us all to have our
BREAKTHROUGH!