Bored~

Wes

He stood tall with pride, like a freshly implanted flag on a recently conquered foreign land. His long billowing hair waved triumphantly in the ash scattered wind. Around him, destruction laid waste to the city as the flames hungrily engulfed everything and everyone in sight. People scattered desperately to escape the darkened fates before them. The tall figure before me stretched his arm out to a woman who stopped to retrieve her ash faced little girl that had fallen in their attempt to flee. Fear stretched across their faces as the woman clung to her child. The mysterious figure closed his open hand harshly, and the
fire seemed to leap at her. I screamed out to them with every particle in my body, but I couldn’t move. It fel as someone had beat me senseless. I’m almost certain my left arm is broken and a huge gash in my side bled profusely. Both of them were instantly engulfed in the flames as their screams violently tore into the midnight air. I could only grimace as the two perished in the flames. As I began to look at myself I shuddered with confusion. On the left side of my back, a large white feathery wing protruded dirty and rather bent. I reached for the other wing on my right side and was met with a sharp pain. My hand touched a bloody, feathery stump that branched out for maybe a few inches. Someone really must of had it for me. Vague memories of a recent battle battered my weary mind. Did he do all this? The man before me turned to me with a empty face.His eyes were icy blue and empty, as if the life from them had been drained ages ago. His sharp nose only complimented his distinct look of emptiness. Thin lips frowned at the sight of me, as his brown hair rested gently on his shoulders. He began to walk towards my broken body, slowly but surely. It felt like decades past before he finally stood before me. Through dried, busted lips I dryly murmured, “Who…are you?”. He took a moment to speak, as he just stared at me with those forlorn eyes. But when he finally did, his voiced sent a chill through my very soul. ” Silence half-breed.” he ordered. Half breed? What the hell is he talking about? He stretched his hand towards me, in repetition to the poor woman and her child from earlier. I braced myself for the flames….but they never came. Instead, everything around me begin to shift and warp like a weird sci-fi movie. “Go back and learn how to control yourself. This is all your fault. Never forget the blood shed by your doing.”, he said. That bastard! I saw what he did to those people…there’s no way I did this. None.
“I’ll be waiting for you in the past, Aflred the Destroyer.” he declared. Alfred the…what? At that moment everything went dark. I no longer felt the pain in my arm or the sharp stabs of pain in my back. Just darkness, warm encircling darkness.
“AHHH!”, I screamed as I flailed awake….in a bed? Was it all a dream? My left arm felt fine as I stretched it out before me and flexed. My back felt smooth and wingless, not a scratch on me. At that time, soft voice rang from outside the door of my room, “Alfred, come down for breakfast sweetheart!” chimed my mother, Grace. I slowly got out of bed and walked out to the hallway for breakfast. Yeah, it was just a dream ,I thought to myself.

Anger or Unobtainable Justice?~

Wes

It’s nice to see the American justice system hard at work, letting killers off scotch free. George Zimmerman (who claims he is latino and NOT white) shot and killed 17 year old Trayvon Martin, claiming it was “self defense”. Without going into too much depth of the story, Trayon was taking a walk to the local general store/gas station to pick up a bag of skittles for his little brother. Now our antagonist George Zimmerman, the captain of the neighborhood watch, notices Trayvon on his way home. He precedes to call the police, claiming that there is a “suspicious” looking person walking through the neighborhood. In the 911 call, the operator tells him NOT to engage with the suspect and to let the police handle it. Never the less, Zimmerman wants to play the super hero. Armed with a rifle and a rotten intention, he follows the young unsuspecting Trayvon down the street. This video surmises how the event played out:

In that small instant of time, Trayvon’s life was wiped off the planet. Someone’s brother is dead and someone’s son is dead. He was clearly screaming for help, but no one bothered to do a damn thing. America, the land of the free and the home of the….br…bra..cowards. Due to some sticky gun laws in Florida, Zimmerman claims self defense and is off with no charges. I have supplied all the facts for this story and my deduction is that the monster is still alive. The monster’s name is racism and his appetite for our ignorance knows no bounds. He thrives in the dark ignorance, inside the hearts of man. For those of us with light and knowledge to fight him off, continue to do so and do it well. There are countless stories like this one, all over America, that rarely get the spotlight they deserve.

There’s an invisible blanket of stigma that comes with being a black man or woman in America. You will have a harder life. You will have to fight harder to survive than other races. You will have to be better than most to do well. If not,the social dogma will eat you alive and you’ll become just another statistic. Blessing or curse, call it what you will but use it to blow your opponents out of the water. The only end to our stigma is harmony with the world.

Sometimes I wish the pen wasn’t mightier than the sword. Otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this.

Earthly Dismissal

Wes

Death, passing away, dying. It’s all the same thing. To some, we float up into the sky or sink deep beneath the crust of the earth into a fiery pit, depending on your choice of deity. It’s truly a sting to the heart to lose someone dear to you, or really anyone in general. That loss is a set of emotions and memories that is forever lost into the void of darkness. Well, this is the dark side of the spectrum anyways. On the brighter side, those said memories will still live on inside of you forever. They will never truly die unless they are forgotten, and this my friends is where our memory comes into play. This person has left their insignia in your heart and mind, their signature if you may. Perhaps a true death is that of a person who has been forgotten by humanity, or even history itself…but then again, how can history dismiss our existence if our existence is apart of history itself?

Remembered Me and Her~

Wes

Here in this catacomb of memories lies a girl from long ago
Back in the town of flashing lights and blissful snow
A delightful memory of a delightful miss
Of whom I often wished I had kissed
On that soft spring evening, waiting at my door
That remembered me just looked at the floor
Shy, not really knowing if there was anything more
Now let’s draw back, to even deeper before
We were just friends at some school dance
In this time period, I had no real chance
For when she looked at me, it was with no real grace
Her eyes gave their attention to some other guys face
Now my companion let’s travel back a little
To those days where life my was in the middle
This foolish me would ask for your hand
Ask as if it were in a furious demand
But again and again, you withdrew from my advances
and sent me home with no last chances
But in this present memory of mine
The thought of you still happens to shine
You were always everything to me and perhaps much more
And make no mistake my dear, it’s still you I adore
So if I somehow happen to make my way back home
I’ll do all I can to be sure you’re not alone

Thoughts~

Wes

As the stars in the sky phase by I hold my head in my hands
My mind is running on autopilot, my brain is unmanned
All my moves until now are no schematics, unplanned
I call for order at this round table of thoughts
But all these fools just yell louder and clang all their pots
While the walls grow angry with indecisive clots
Cracks web through the halls as the castle decides to break
The ground begins to murmur and everything begins to shake
Water pours through, the scene dissolves into a lake
The thoughts float on though, so cool and serene
And back on the surface, I stand cold and unseen
The shower head strikes me, mechanic machines…

Four Lost Ones~

Wes

One of the Four walks the Earth ready to fight for what he believes in. He strives for what’s right and feels enough compassion to fill an ocean. Basking in the light, he walks a courageous and powerful path ushering him into a bright new future. Another one of The Four is plagued by darkness that forever lives in his memories. He’s nothing more than a cold hearted soldier, don’t get me wrong, the poor soul tries but the weight of the past keeps him rooted to the same spot like an anvil. He shrugs off the pain and shuffles along looking to the stigma that plagues him so. The third member of the Lost Four sits in a corner of his white room, trapped by his own self conscious thoughts, encasing him like an insect in a glass box without a lock. Lofty thoughts of the present and the future torture him with swift indifference to how he feels, he can never stop the madness from coming. Chewing his fingernails with an anxious chatter of the teeth, he thinks constantly, frantically even. He fears the future and resents his past, a true mess of a being. Shutting himself out from the world, he chews away until he bleeds at the tips of his aching fingers. The fourth member of The Four walks the shadows blissfully. He always aware of his surroundings, smooth like the wind with every touch, word or step. He relies on himself and only himself, almost like a lone wolf but not quite that lonely. He forgot his past and the people in it centuries ago. He cares not for the future, only living in the now and today. He is driven by the little whims that placate his heart.These are The Four Lost Ones. In the end, in the dark reaches of the shadows the Four appear, no longer lost. A shaky hand clasp a scarred one, a scarred hand clasps a soft one, a soft hand claps a cold one. The Four come together as one and emerge as a whole new being…Fin

Being Me~

Wes

Something I’ve really wanted to touch on for a really long time.

In today’s society, I’ve had to face one huge racial question that I never though would be such a big deal years before. Why is the why I act such a crime in contradiction to my skin? I do not fit the bill (to many) of your average African American teenager. I don’t rap, play basketball, talk in ebonics or slang and I don’t sag my pants. In contrast to that, I listen/sing to Frank Sinatra and Nat King Cole or Dean Martin ( Bunch of old jazz cats).

I dress nicely and hate sagging pants or long t-shirts, I like trying new foods and try to stray away from fried food. I speak properly and I am often complimented for my voice. Sound like a white man to you? Well by America’s definition, it sure does. And that my friends is…well, Xzibit can explain.

Now I’m going to show you a video that I think you should watch. Listen closely for the question ” Would you rather date a black guy that acts white or white guy that acts like a black guy?”. Don’t grind your teeth too hard ladies and gentlemen.

Now we’re gonna ignore the idea of racism for a second, because most of that was just ignorance. The ladies said that a white guy acting black is stupid and just doesn’t work. They seem like tools. Yet a black guy acting like a white guy is classy and is therefore date-able. Whooooooaaaa, can you say double standard?! You expect me, as a black man, to have a gun and eat sunflower seeds or play basketball but if I do I’m just another nigger? I’m just another casualty waiting to happen in the streets?

But lo and behold! If I pull up my pants, iron out my English and dress properly I’m socially accepted? This is a very discrete way of eliminating black culture. This is America’s way of saying “Hey your wrong, get right or we’ll look at you funny”.This idea dates back to centuries ago. Anyone remember those good ole’ Crusaders? Get with God or we’ll help you get with God (usually in more ways than one).

Another example was slavery. Once the slaves were brought over from the Triangular Trade, their African names were stripped from them and they were given christened with new “American” names. This is happening today, but on a much more subtle level.

Back to the social injustice of today. Do you now see the double standard guys like me are forced to deal with? I act the way I raised (proper, kind, scholarly and polite) so I’m “white” or an “Uncle Tom”. Ridiculous. Let’s delve as to why I am the way I am.
My mother sent me to white schools almost all my life. So guess what? I’m going to be more prone to dating/hanging out with people. Thank God I’ve been to a few blacks school so I have the ability to socialize easily with both races, but once again, I am more prone to white because that’s what I was raised with. I was around proper speaking, so I learned proper speaking. My mother knew that this is the white mans world and she raised me accordingly. Let’s be honest here, the lighter your<skin is in America, the easier your life is going to be. I'll never forget the day she told me I would have to work twice has hard just to get what a white man could obtain with ease. Though now that's not completely true, it's pretty damn close.

And it's not only white people who persecute our group. Fellow black people also like to criticize. Man, I couldn't tell how many weird looks and names I've been called for how I talk or dress from black people. But those black people were raised differently than me and that's just the way it is. This is why I'm here trying to educate and perhaps look for an answer to my question that America can answer, which is this:

What do you want from me? Shall I throw away my roots and assimilate to your social body? Or do I pick up a gun and roam the streets in search of people who will buy drugs? Make up your damn mind, because I'm tired of playing this lame little game.

"Stuck between a rock and a hard place."

This is what you wanted right?

Or was it this?

A Little Too Late,Darkness Claims Two~

Wes

Hey there guys, this is Alyssa Bustamante.

She seems harmless right? Just your average teen kid. Yet, like many of us out here in the world, she wears a mask. Unveiled, this is what lies beneath it.

Your thoughts at the moment, “Oh wow, would a troubled looking child”. And you know what? Your right. This is the face of a murderer. At the age of 15 years old, Alyssa strangled and stabbed her 9 year old neighbor, prematurely ending her life. Despicable yes. But I hold a soft spot for her in my heart. Hold your stones ladies and gentlemen, an explanation is on it’s way.

Alyssa comes from a ravaged home. Her father was in prison for the most of her life and her mother abandoned her during her childhood. As if that wasn’t enough, she had to fight depression all through her life (probably alone for the most part). She has tried to kill herself multiple times using painkillers and razors are not stranger to this girls body. Scars and bloody tracings are carved into the memory of her body. Etched into her arm is a powerful word called “Hate”. How disgusting right? I mean, God she has issues! She could never be attuned to the way normal people you or me, right? If you agreed with those false statements, your something of a douche. If you put a mirror in front of me and peered hard enough, you could some parts of Alyssa on my face.

People like Alyssa are always tossed aside by our biased ass society. Cast aside for having different thoughts and experiences, people like her tend to turn to other methods to feel accepted. Drugs, hanging with tough crowds or even self mutilation. They feel alone, like no one understands the daily smothering of hurt they have to go through. They feel trapped in deep dark hole with no way to get out. Minutes feel like hours, hours feel like days and days turn to years. The will to live is extinguished by dark clouds that hover above almost daily. Without those “methods” we mentioned earlier or a really good friend, something bad usually tends to happen. Those of us that our lucky enough to get help, usually get the help we don’t need. Medicine is prescribed and things look hopeful, right? ERRRR, wrong. America seems to think that medicine is the cure all for mentally ill people. Hell, for anything really. But it’s not and in this case I’d go as far to say it helped Alyssa to make her decision to kill. People like her need love. Love is a damn good cure but no ones willing to show any to the people who need it the most. Our social ladder feeds attention/love/praise to the prettiest or the “coolest” people on the ladder, and others like Alyssa are shunned to the bottom where they rot. Believe it or not, I’ve been in a Alyssa’s shoes. But by the grace of (insert Higher Power you worship) I found the courage and power to flush away my “medicine” and to be a stronger person. If you went back in time and told me who I’d become in the future, I would have scoffed at you and turned away. I’m one of the lucky ones who got saved. I couldn’t have pulled myself out of that dark pit without the help of my friends and family though. Alyssa’s been charged with murder and the justice systems probably just going to lock her up til she croaks. Yes, she committed a crime and must receive her due punishment…but someones got to see this for what it is. She needs help beyond punishment…and she damn well isn’t going to find any in prison. I can only hope people will read this and change their ways and maybe another Alyssa can be pulled away from his or her destructive path.I’m not writing about this story to try and get sympathy for what I’ve gone through, but to make people aware of people like this. For they are human just like you are me. Never forget that, they are human.

“Judge me for who I was, I care not. For I am stronger now than I could have ever imagined. I will continue to grow even more powerful, while I use this strength to uplift my brothers and sisters around me. This slave will become a king.”

It’s Late~

Wes

Now, if your sitting there at home asking yourself :”Why does Wesley feel so important that he needs to make a blog? I mean, what do I care about what he says derp, derp, herpa derp”. I may have forgotten a herp or a derp in there somewhere….nevertheless. I’ve found (and been told constantly) that the things that come from my mouth have helped others in times of darkness and need. I made a promise with God when I was a little kid that if he blessed me with any amount of talent, I’d use it to help people as a part of our little deal. Anything to help the people is what I’m all about. If that sounds douchey (douchy?) or pigheaded to you, I am truly sorry. It’s time I revealed this other half of me to the world. Not much to say beyond that…enjoy and spread the word if you may. I’d like for many to read all I can post here. Enjoy this little ramble of mine and really think about it. How does any of it relate to you and the things you go through? Open your mind to a whole new scenario:

Life~
I can’t seem to throw myself under the normality bus just yet. We all stress over money, furthering our education, religion and the people around. Life seems to be one big repeptitive cycle. We work all our lives to achieve goals for rewards that our waved in our faces by the government until our backs break and we die. Meanwhile, in other nations there’s impending sadness : mass war, murders, madness on higher scales than I can think to describe. Here, I set at this desk. With this biology book in hand. I was told to learn it’s contents, pass the class and be ready for the next level. I will do the same, again and again until I acquire a career. The people around me will die and move on as I quickly proceed through life meeting new friends. Perhaps I’ll even build a family. Then again, maybe I’ll walk out of this room and get shot in the head…who knows. Here, Aristotle makes a brilliant points about society ( And while I know I’m zipping around topics, I can’t help it so forgive me) :”Society is something in nature that precedes the individual. Anyone who either cannot lead the common life, or is so self-sufficient as not to need to, and therefore does not partake of society, is either a beast or a god.”. Whose to say I HAVE to follow the society made rulebook? I’d love to be a god. Not in the sense of ruling over anyone of course, but as Aristotle stated. To live somewhat away (not above) society’s rule. Maybe I could be the next Jesus, and give my life to eradicate all sin(which I would gladly proceed with). Or maybe I could sell my soul to open up the pit’s of Hell and serve the devil as his devoted servant? Not that that sounds like a intriguing option (cause it’s not), I just don’t agree with the way everything is. And I don’t feel like I have the power to change anything about it. I’m not going to sit here and act like I KNOW the government’s twisted or that I KNOW heaven and hell is real. These are things I still question daily. I just hope that America’s not as far gone as I think it is. It truly saddens me to see the way things are…and even more so I feel a dark storm approaching for it’s people. And as for religion, I hope people will open their eyes. Question the way things are, raise your hands and ask why. Blindly following a set script is cult-like and dangerous. Show a little curiousity and iniative in the things you commit your time to. It makes me so dishearted to see all the violence and hate that stems from religion. The worlds bad enough as it is with all the darkness clouding us…why can’t we just love each other? We’re humans and we will fight and differ on things but there’s no need to hate. Love is truly the only weapon that can dismantle all the madness in the world but we don’t have enough of it to share. I don’t know how many of you will read this and actually take my words into thought but for the ones of you that do, please hear me.

It’s strange. The older we get the more blindfolds are released from our eyes. The uglier the world seems to become. Honestly, I’ve seen too much now to try and be ignorant of the worlds travesties. Sometimes I rather be a child again, or better off float off to Heaven( if it exists…it’s got to). The heartaches of this world really tax themselves on my heart at times. This isn’t a silly suicide note or anything, just a way for me to release the weight off my chest. Ending it all would be silly (especially if there’s a Hell…which there must be). No, I think I’d rather see how this chess game called life plays itself out. But if the oppurtunity to make a difference in this world comes, I hope I’ll have the courage to seize it by the throat and make it mine. It’s been years of questioning my purpose…my Creator must know I’m impatient.

Sometimes I wonder, is this madness that pulses through the tissues of my brain or is it an elightenment that I just don’t have the courage to deal with? Heh…

Welcome~

Wes

Post number one I suppose! Welcome to the Deep End friends, the dock where we jump from reality and into my head. I’ll let you into the deepest confines of my mind if you’d be willing to take a few minutes to read and comment. Criticism and discussion is always welcome. I’ll try to keep my words civilized but this won’t be for the ignorant or for the faint of heart. Take off your coat and stay awhile why don’t you?