Commentary

A letter for Jahahd

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I’ve been lost for words

And not lost for any word… because I have enough raging emotions inside that could fuel an army tank and unload on everything in sight. But that comes from a painful place. A hurt and angry place. A place I’ve been trying to remove myself from because it’s not a healing place. It’s not a place of home. It’s not a place of Jahahd. He represents a happy place, so I will speak from there. I will write from there. I will dance and move as he did… from a creative space… a blessed place filled with love, freedom and inspiration.

I’ve been lost for words

Because Jahahd made me an uncle for the first time. A god father for the first time. And, made me think about fatherhood for the first time. My son could be just like him, I would think many moments as I’d playfully toss him into a pile of pillows or let him fall asleep on my chest as I watched television. I was probably around 15 years old and he, 2 or 3. Those past moments have become more precious than ever and I cry because I don’t want to ever forget them.

I’ve been lost for words

Because the last time I saw Jahahd, was at my niece’s sweet sixteen party. We took pictures and we laughed all night. I’m grateful that we had that last time together as a family. I’m grateful that my mother made us squeeze into that tiny photo booth for a family picture even though I was complaining – it was too tight and we all couldn’t fit. I’m grateful that Jahahd enjoyed running behind me for a hug because he knew I didn’t like hugs… my discomfort amused him the same way others discomforts amused me. Teasing each other was our way of showing love. And, if I knew that was the last time I was going to see him, I would’ve let him hug me much much longer.

I’ve been lost for words

And as I have sat under the sun and the moon in Madrid writing this, searching for the right words to say, I am under the same sky as all of you. The same stars and the same clouds. We’ve come together to share in this same moment and experience, right now, this very moment, this is tremendous. What feels like more of a colossal shift in our worlds. This has been my biggest heart break. I can’t imagine life without my nephew in it because there was so much left for us to all enjoy and still live through. I know eventually we will be ok… and he will always be with us. I have reflected a lot from this, all of which I will share another time. But the one thing I would end with is:

“No matter the state of this world. The hardest thing to do is to live in it. So we should live. So let’s live. We should love. So let’s love. We should dance and we should create and express and paint the sky whatever we want it to be, and be whatever we want to be with passion and flight, fearlessly.” Like Jahahd.

I will forever miss Jahahd. I will forever love Jahahd. Thank you all for being here.

– Chaz

Chapter Two: Birthday

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Middle of the Road“I write because I adore watching you read the stories I create.”

This summer marked the 1st year anniversary of my blog’s creation, and another birthday to remind myself how old I’m getting. Yes, I still feel the same. Older and wiser… I guess and I suppose… but nonetheless it’s another year of progression and moving forward, so for that… I am a happy man. I feel like every year used to hold a special significance, something that represented what that year stood for… a lesson, a loss, or a great achievement. But this past year… this past year was like a monsoon of mixed extraordinary experiences, and I drove through leaving behind a trail of scattered lost love letters and sticky notes. I think that’s what I’ve grown to appreciate the most about having a blog; it’s one big documented story of crazy life experiences and creative lollipops. All reminding you where you’ve been and where you hope to go.

Looking Back
I created this blog to be my creative lab in space. A work place of many sorts… a glass house where I can lay a few of my fictional and personal thoughts. A place to practice, play and grow. A space where I can be free to unwind, and explore and rediscover myself over and over again. Most importantly, this blog was created to assist in the development of my literary projects.

I wanted this first year to be about “starting from the beginning” … writing what I want, what I feel, what I desire, and what I fear with no organized direction. I wanted to challenge myself to be careless and outspoken. To speak in different voices and from different places inside. I dared myself to not focus on what someone else may think or judge, because I realized a long time ago that’s where the magic stops. As soon as an artist starts to worry about the outside, the connection breaks. This first year was about finding that little boy that fell in love with creating stories and poetry in 3rd grade, that little boy who swore that he was going to write his own book one day because it would be so cool to go to a book store and see a shelf of different books all written by yourself. I think I found him. He’s sitting right here telling me to “hurry up and stop proofreading and editing every line over and over again. Just spit it out already and watch where it all falls.” The practice never stops.

This past year was about playing with the art of story telling, developing my own personal style and flavor, being as honest as can be, and learning to be patient with the process. I believe I succeeded. I recognize a few themes this past year; some bring a smile, a tear… and a few make me cringe. But, that’s the whole point of this process… looking back on those posts that represent a time of silliness or a time of foolish love, and realizing that within those vulnerable written moments lie something special and worth sharing. There is nothing wrong with writing what you feel. Truth breaks all walls down, and you are free to let your creative soul soar. I start to see bits of color and music emerge from the words I lay down, and I get excited to watch it all sing. 

What Happens Next
More writing happens next. This 2nd year will focus on technique and more challenges…. creating and sharing something creative or thoughtful daily. Every moment is another opportunity to continue building your voice, platform, and brand- find out what that is. Most of all, this next phase is about “being” a writer… and documenting my journey in discovering what the hell that really means.

 

Publicity Stunt (Take 1)

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MicTesting the mic because we need a check please. Don’t get stuck. Try not to freeze. It can be hard to speak up at times. Especially when you feel no one understands. Not your parents, not your lover, and not even your childhood friends. And, this may come off as a run on, but when you speak your truth, it’s best to just go on. Don’t stop. This is my first attempt at touching upon something deep. Some of us deal with problems head on or just by being naive. The politics, the cultural influence, the harsh truths that bleed through our streets.  Can’t go a day without hearing something terribly wrong in the news. From Trayvon Martin to Michael Brown. All of a sudden, wearing a hoodie can get me gunned down? Tyler Clementi to Phoebe Prince. And now we can’t love who we want in fear of being bullied to a death sentence?  And this is the tragedy the majority of us know? What about the countless others the media refuse to show? Too many youths dying in this world. If knowledge is power, why do we keep lying to this world? Laying off the teachers and cutting the funds that are used to educate this world. Lost. Angry. Perplexed. It’s jarring to me. Makes me want to plant this mic on the highest mountain and scream out to this country. Love. Understanding. Patience. Hope. Faith. Brotherhood. Revelation. Jesus walked this earth. Religious? Please consult your congregation. And it’s all wrapped up in politics. Media. Propaganda. Censorship. It’s all on-demand. Why cheat me out of the truth when pieces are scattered across Facebook and YouTube. Susan no longer needs an investigator, she can scan her cheating husband’s boob tube. No privacy. Out there for all to see. Like this and instagram that. Your date can’t remember your last name, but wants you to sext back. All ready for the plunge after only 1 pic. Holding my hand is too much, but you’re willing to come over to suck my d*ck? Ever heard of an STD? How about HIV? It may just be me, but I’m lost for words. No wonder so much of today’s hit music is about disloyal hos and saving bullshit for the birds. There is no learning in these lessons. It’s ok to not be spiritual, but still count your blessings. How about capitalism? I’m gassed out. War and terrorism or war on terrorism? I’m passed out. Poverty is very real. The economy is on the brink of being cashed out. And yet we are still the most powerful country. But at what costs? Is it all worth the risk of defamation and the loss of our humanity. Is it a good thing to lose humility? Call me naive, but I’d be foolish to not question the contingencies. And, then there’s global warming and something about the glaciers melting world-wide. But what makes front page news? Kanye West and his Kardashian bride. Some may not even know that Abraham Lincoln is the 16th president. Do we really know history? The true story without the embellishment? The slave trade, the Holocaust, Alice Paul and Rosa Parks. Should I even mention Benjamin Franklin, Martin Luther King, and Malcolm X?  I recently heard someone ask how a train fit through the underground rail road. On television non-the-less. And this is what we broadcast to our children (our future leaders). I believe the correct text response is “SMH,” I digress…

My Poetic Project

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Poetry, forever my mystique lover
My heart refuses to quit…

Why Ask Why?
Why Poetrysnob? Why a blog? Why now? Why? Why? Why? Just a few of the questions I would get asked or even ask myself when I decided to shop around the idea of me actually launching my own blog, a place for me to finally unleash all of my creative thoughts and expressions onto one playing field… a project that would ultimately be the start to something greater for my art and ideas. I say “shop” because it was me not only trying to sell myself on the idea of possibly exploring a passion of mine (funny how I had to convince myself), but also looking for that endorsement from my peers. I thought getting  inspired was simple, but I guess one still needs motivation and drive to start and hopefully finish… so here I go. I spent a whole year (maybe almost two) trying to figure out what path, what voice, what time, and so… I ask myself what now? Why now? Well, now is a better time than next week or next year, and last month has already passed, so why not now? Just continue to write and see what happens. It should be like planting a seed, watering it, and watching it grow. And, not forgetting to sing to it once in a while.

My Blog Title
I have always enjoyed writing in all shapes, sizes, forms, and colors. Prose allowed me to explore my love for storytelling, but poetry gave me the ability to not only tell a story, but to sing one, to make a strong statement in three lines or less, to share an intimate secret without exposing too much, and it quickly became my go-to kind of art. It was evident that “poetry” should be in the title. But, “snob?”…where does that come from? I like the way it sounds, and how it almost doesn’t make sense…but it kinda does. And, how it can have multiple meanings, but that’s only if you want it to. To be a snob is to be over-confident and greater than, to believe you are better and there is no question about it. You are superior. In most cases, this is a negative word and is in no way meant to be a form of flattery. But, when you are in your own creative space, exploring and creating art, drawing your own path with no excuses and no reservations, I believe there is no better way to be then… SUPER.

My Mission
To celebrate, explore and discover the poetry in my everyday life. To reflect and to create. To have fun. To get personal. To practice and critique. And, most of all, to get poetic.

So, there you have it… Poetrysnob.