AUM Redux: Slam

When I drove home, every night this past week, yes that’s every night, I slammed…

I always wanted to slam.  When I was a youth, I played basketball, so slamming was a big thing.  We’d play H-O-R-S-E on 8′ rims and do our best impressions of Michael Jordan from the free throw line or Isaiah Rider’s East Bay Funk Dunk or yeah.  The highest I ever slammed on was a 9′ rim.  It was probably more like 8’11” because of people hanging on it but yeah, you get the point.

Something about soaring, flying through the air.  Something about flying through life…

So this past week, as I finished work near 11 each night and I made the trek up the mountain in the Dark of Night, driving through the rain, I felt a rumbling from the depths of my Soul and I had to speak, if only to myself and speak up for my Self.

First and foremost, as much as I’m a writer and sooner rather than later a published Author, I consider myself a Poet.  When I began writing on here, the only thing that came through, that which made me feel better was Poetry.  I didn’t necessarily like my raw poetic Voice and I hadn’t really developed or met my Conscientious Observer Voice.  But something about Poetry…

So I rolled with poetry because I have always had something to say.  And poetry was natural, it could capture anything, any experience, every feeling, and because I didn’t know a lick about how to really write it, I didn’t judge it, I just did it.

I recorded a couple slams in the past but see not liking voice above, I didn’t go very far with it.  But something this past week, for whatever reasons was roaring and I had to do it, not for an audience, but for myself.

It began like this:

My Heart

My Heart’s like a gun /

And my words /

Each one’s a bullet /

My delivery the trigger /

about time I pull it /

It’d be followed a few nights later by:

My Light is my Darkness/

But my Darkness/

My Darkness ain’t my Light/

Snippets, snippets I do share.  But man, this is a whole different form of expression and is screaming from the depths of me.  I can’t help but speak.  I  can’t remember all that I said while I was driving, but for some reason, I remember those two pieces because it made me think.  I wasn’t trying to do it, LOL, it just came out and I had to think about what each meant.  Still pondering.

So I wrote it down and it’s in my journal, just like the night I spoke a poem to a full moon.  A night when I felt truly alive. To be truly alive always, is that even possible?

I’m not dead.  I don’t feel like I’m flying right now, the plane is on the runway, I feel that much, and at least, I still feel alive.  And that’s progress for me. Because when I was in limbo periods in the past, I’d hate my life.

So yeah… while I can’t hang on the rim, hanging around ain’t really my thing.  I’m going to slam and Poet my way through what I do, when I do, how I do.

And with that: I’m out!


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