Some days I feel like things have become too serious and people have forgotten how to have fun. Some days I run myself tired pouring energy into the wrong subjects, others I don't put enough into the right. Some days I lack compassion and everyday, empathy. Some days I find myself on a path that leads nowhere but one that still has everything I need. Some days feel brand new like the plastic has just been removed. Everyday should feel brand new but sometimes I feel like I've seen this all before, with plastic over my eyes and mouth trying to breathe deep, I travel an extra mile or three to realize saints didn't have it easy, hurricanes come and go like smiles on playgrounds but on good days they come more than they go when everything isn't taken so seriously, I mean smiles not hurricanes but those come too and should be taken seriously. Some days I feel like everyone has become too worried, other days I think it's me. I correct myself about 45 times a day in order not to offend anybody. Everyday the flesh is weak but the mind is strong when it's self-regulated and not ruled by another mans thoughts, or woman, or affiliation, or energy, or vibe, etc. Some days I feel like we loose too much control to others, tying nooses around our necks for some that don't even know our names, what's the key to the madness that unlocks doors hidden inside? Some days the walls are built too high, and some days it sucks to climb. Some days I feel like I can feel the fire coming, in my mind we're in hell and most days I just want to inhale and not care. When did things become so serious and people forget how to have fun? Some days I think about that a lot, others I'm too busy smiling.
This is about you. Yes you, the dreamer, thinker, creative, artist, construction worker, security guard, teacher, author, you, out there working hard making forward progress towards your goal. This is a thank you to show appreciation to all of you out there. To the inspired and gifted, family and friends who support, to those that uplift without even knowing, to the Warriors, lightworkers, healers and the powerful. Thank you those injecting the universe with a positive energy that seems to escape the grasp of the unmindful at times. Thank you to those who don't believe in others too, for you give extra drive to the focused and dedicated, and to the rebels with a distain for authority that challenge status quo. Thank you to you all. To show our appreciation further, all digital prints in the LZY Shop will be free for two weeks.
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I met her when I was 32 and she was 19 but we still got involved. I walked around the campus with a bottle of wine in my coat pocket looking for her dorms with a slightly sinister grin. I climbed the stairs until I reached the fourth floor, sent her a text, "open your door".
"Did you hear that?". "Hear what baby?". "It sounded like gun shots". I knew something didn't feel right on this campus. How did I get myself in this position. I mean, she's a great girl but she's so young, look at her. I wonder what flies through her mind as she walks around in this world. "You had to hear this time!". "Yes!, what do we do?". "We stay here, open this wine, and hope no one comes in here, the crazies can have it out there". "What about the people being hurt out there?".
"What about them?, what can we do from here? Do you have a armory in your bathroom I don't know about?". "What does that mean?, what if you were out there and not in here? There are people dying. I'm scared in here, I couldn't imagine how I would feel being outside with no where to hide with a crazy man shooting away at will". I sat up more to the edge of the bed not fully looking in her direction. "That's the beauty of it, you don't have to imagine what you would feel like if you were in danger because you're not in danger, I don't understand that sort of thinking! Why put yourself through the pain and stress of what ifs, just to feel something you're not actually involved in. Don't get me wrong, I mean ya, what's going on outside might be horrible but, I don't want to feel the pain of those outside, it would wreck me. I would instead rather focus on enjoying my night". By this time I was standing and walking towards a book case where my belongings were and she replied, "where are your feelings?". "In the heart of my mind", I responded.
Andrew Waltz left this letter with his best friend Michael Penn. Michael has just handed this letter to us and our own Marsha Will read it, Marsha take it away...
To you all I deliver a gift that has been irking the very fibers of this great world and the life we live. For years I watched my father go off to work and tirelessly work to try and build relations in the community only to be shot down again and again. He worked with the filth everyday and everyday I watched parts of his soul dwindle away. I watched his fire, and spark disappear as he tried to understand and relate to the suffering of everyone, and for what? To be killed by the his comrades, the boys in blue. The only way I could repay my dad is to make your family feel what I felt everyday watching my father come home dead inside. For him I shall eliminate every officer I see the night after my fathers funeral".
The room fell silent as I stood at the bookcase. "Now what do you have to say... Officer!?", she said "The same as before, I'm not on duty.", "those could be your friends out there!, you don't feel anything?", "I feel like, like..., like I need to smoke." By now I'm wonder if my brother was out there. This was his first month out of the academy, "look I know this kids father, I know how he died and when he died.", "Did you kill him?!", "I didn't say that, I just know him, I know Andrew, I just hope Phil isn't out there." I grab my phone and text, "Stay away from the college, Waltz' kid is shooting down cops".
March 5, 1999
Bullets rain from the sky and start falling on unknowing targets. Those who have heard or seen a shot reached for their phones and began to alert the police. Officer Riley Brown of the State Wide University campus police is the most recent victim shot down. The gunman unloads a rattling shot to those in hiding and the sound pierces through the sky. Silence covered the campus for the longest fifteen seconds, sirens plummet closer towards the scene. A single shot rings out and peels through a cop car killing officer Phillip Longwell instantly. Screams from students drown out the next shot from the gunman. Fear covered the campus.
I found life on the other side of moon. I was whisked away from a life I vaguely remember at the age of eight. One of the only things I remember is my mother's voice as she would hold me up in front of the kitchen sink window as a baby singing, "this little light of mine...". The entire world belonged to us and only us then, and nothing can take those moments away from us. Besides those moments everything else is a figment of my imagination. I can't remember anything about who I was, my first name, last name, I don't even have an idea of what my parents faces even look like. False images made to feel true, who I am was put together in the unknown, and who I am is Tubi.
"If you never turned around would you always be prepared for the future or unaware of what's to come?", Master Tubi quietly whispered to his students. Only a class of three, these where the top warriors from around the land. They come to Master Tubi to learn from one of the greatest unknown masters. The story of Master Tubi is unknown because he has never reveled where he comes from. He rarely speaks of himself, always about what's to come. With a cloud of alluring mystery around him, everything about Tubi has become legendary myth. Many say he was a light that appeared from the dark on a quiet night in town. Some say he's the half son of an ancient warrior and a healing Goddess. Others believe that he was his parents blood sacrifice into the, "I Society", but every attempt to end his life at a young age failed and only after the third failed attempt Tubi escaped into the unknown.
I watched time pass sitting alone in caves drinking rain water. I fell in love with self over the years in the dark. I couldn't see much when I looked around but with deep breathes and closed eyes an open mind showed me another side of life. Meditation was all I had. It was everything I looked forward to. It helped me gain the power needed to survive in the unknown. I learned all I knew from the images displayed inside my mind; still aware of my surroundings, the unknown. So many things disappeared from mind during this time of my life. But I felt at home, alone in the dark, finding light.
"Master Tubi, why don't you ever tell us where you've come from?", a student asked. "Does where I've come from matter to where we're going? From the looks of it, I see no evidence of truth in that. What I see are minds concerned with the past and not enough with the future, but if you must know, I'm from the unknown.", Master Tubi responded. Each student let out a huge sigh as the answer from Tubi was once again what they've heard from him each time they've asked before hand. "If there is any fear that we wouldn't understand or accept your past Master Tubi, that is false", a student uttered with his head down. "My past isn't for you to understand or accept, once you realize that you'll realize that we are sitting here together today, for a reason. A reason bigger than the unknown where I've come from. A reason bigger than us both, but are you ready to let go of thoughts of the old to build a new?", Master Tubi ask his students.
A lost place of love is all I've known for years. I watched time pass alone in the trees as the winds whispered Mother Nature's secrets in my ear. I fell in love with her then and still in love with her now. She was all I knew, all I looked forward to. She was my everything, my life source. She lifted me when I felt too weak to walk. When food was low she fed me. This bond with you is one I can never let go of, Mother Nature.
Days passed as Master Tubi sat alone in his room in silence. He woke all of his students up one morning before the dark had completely rolled away and the light had taken its place. He sat up tall with his legs crossed and began to speak, "I can tell you more about where I am not from than where I'm from. The place where greed, lust, and sin meet and breed offspring to finish the destructive plans set for this world by their parent's parents. The place where dreams go to die and nightmares feed off the ash.", Master Tubi stood up and walked to the furthest window in his villa. He signaled to one of his students to bring him some tea. He sipped slow and gazed out the window as if his next words were being shown to him in the clouds. "We must escape this rock and build our own. The city I've come from is called Dou. I went back after years away to find our home on the corner of Fear Ave. and Fucking Fear Dr., where fear and pain seeped from the gutters and found itself planted on top of milk crates selling moon rocks and spewing lyrics about the life they lead and one they hope to live. They picked on kids who don't believe in same, and used words to shame the righteous. That city wasn't built for everyone, more evident in the decayed buildings and abandon houses. I slept in those houses the first few nights after capture had taken place. I lost all hope and figured I was living in Hades so I had to find a way to escape. Yes it's true my father a strong warrior was captured by the, "I Society", and my mother was never seen again. I eventually escaped into the mountains. I needed the unknown as the unknown needed me. I needed to gain the power needed to build a empire strong enough to dismantle the city of Dou and destroy the "I Society". This was the first time ears got a chance to hear Master Tubi reveal anything about where he was from or wasn't, and also his plans to build anew. "A world in the clouds", Master Tubi uttered, "a world in the clouds."
To be continue...
I've heard it takes a lot of hard work and sacrifice to be great and see your dreams come to life, but how committed are you to your dreams? How many meals are you willing to miss? Is there a difference between dreams and passion? How much time are you willing to dedicate to your overall dream?
I've watched from a far over the years, as different friends set out into their endeavors. Only to watch about 96% percent of them give up and go in a different direction. I always ask myself the same question, did they really love it? Did they really believe in themselves, or did they see their dream as dollar signs, which turned their dream into a nightmare. I understand having other interest and people changing their mind, but what's the use of putting so much energy into a dream only to give up. I wonder how many of those who decided to give up, made that choice themselves. Was the motive lack of finances, patience, or just plain circumstances?
Think about the decision of buying food with your last ten dollars, versus buying paint. What would be your move? I know common sense would be food, a so called necessity for survival. What's common these days? And what really makes sense? I do know this, I am that guy who would not eat for days on in in order to buy supplies to create. Food doesn't give me the satisfaction that creating does. How many can relate? How many meals have you, and or are you willing to miss in the pursuit of your dreams? Does missing meals blur the lines between dreams and passion?
Dreams and passion are forgotten entities. The diversion away from the two have left nothing but countless drones. There definitely is a difference between the two. We grow a passion to pursue our dreams, but need more than passion to see our dreams through. Passion can come and go like the wind, your dreams will haunt you.
To exist in a world where dreams are shot down on a daily basis has become the norm, and therefore became acceptable. How can we understand the potential of what we've created in our dreams, if at the first hint of struggle we fold. In most cases we tend to turn back to safety before an attempt is even made. If you believe in this system we are currently wrapped up in; why not believe in your own systems that's screaming to be functional? Are you scared? What could possibly happen? We've been failed over and over. Why be afraid to fail?
Time is the only thing we have, what we do with that time is up to us. How we waste time is on us, as well as how much time we dedicate to a certain person, place, or dream, is up to us. How much time are you willing to allocate towards your dreams? There will be family outings, birthdays, or just times where everyone is ready to let loose and have a blast. How much of that are you willing to sacrifice to achieve your dreams?
I had a conversation with a friend, and he told me that I've sacrificed too much to just do work. I've missed weddings, funerals, birthdays, hospital visits and every other moment that most see as important. I've had too many sleepless nights to tally up, I've slept in cars, even missed meals, but some how I made due with what I had. Nothing seemed to matter, as long as I continued to push forward and positioned myself closer to my dreams. All I have is what I dream, so instead of waking up and giving up I'll stay asleep.
How committed are you to your dreams?
Death to philosophy and hello truth, the tumble of thoughts cascading the streets as if similar emotions weren't felt. We've watched blood shed in the back of houses and covered up wounds with Luther King's dream, spent backwards in attempts to catch up, but spin backwards every time we get paid, I feel underwhelmed in a world where it's ok to comprise soul to get paid, thoughts shouldn't feel this old, toes shouldn't be so cold, tip toeing heaven and hell, light on the dark side of a paper plane trying to make it home, smoke in the wind off the mind of Socrates, bullet holes in the back of the heels of Achilles, be a nightmares dream, a removed spleen in the body of life, take, eat, remembering everything you learned and forgot in the pews of churches, seats, chairs, down a isle, married to the thought of revolution and death to pupated Kings, don't know truth if it's code name is philosophy, neurological refrain from the diseased, get closer to life, far from deceased. Get closer to life, far from philosophy...
Don't overthink, live
The Mind of the Traveling Poet is a collection of poems collected over years of travels to different locations.Read More