Our Voice

It’s a language. It’s a code. This is how we tell our story. This is how we show the world who we are, in a world that sometimes doesn’t want to hear it. The body becomes the instrument to communicate how the music runs through your body, through your veins. Its delivery through your movements is how you find your voice, and ultimately, how you tell your story. Your krumping might be a comma. Your battles could be a question mark. People are always wondering what your next move is going to be. It’s bigger than the exclamation mark, it’s bigger than just the downrock. This isn’t comic books, it’s more like literature. It’s a poem, and the way your moves work together is the rhyme. It doesn’t just sit on the surface, it’s under your skin. We have this thing we do; we dance. We hop to what’s hip. It’s our language, it’s our code, it’s our voice. It’s more than just a hobby, it’s a lifestyle. It’s what makes us who we are, and who we always will be.

life and death

Life was born when Death died
Death to live had tried and tried
but Life arrived smiling with glee
Death's death had set Life free
Death's funeral was a happy one
but Death's death will be undone
I know one day Death will live
to Life will I not a funeral give
let tears fall when Life decides to die
in death maybe Life won't be so shy
all we can do is hope and pray
that Life will postpone that sorrowful day
and if that day will tomorrow come
Life and Death will come undone

too young to die

I wish I could be there with you,
To help you move along
But I know that I can’t come yet,
I just pray that you’ll stay strong. I can see how much you’re hurting,
I watch how much you cry,
I know how hard this is for you,
But you’re too young to die.

Fear

It's a little black monster that hitches a ride on your back wherever you go. It holds tightly to your neck so that you will never forget its presence. When you begin to feel inspired, uplifted, or free, it gets jealous. It wraps its arms around your head and covers your eyes; blinding you. It doesn't want you to let go. It wants you to merely survive, not live. Some people carry it willingly, others fight harder to make it let go. But when you fight it, it fights back. It pulls on your hair and scratches your skin. It kicks you in the stomach and gets in your head. It is a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, or pain. Whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling is always present.

Everybody is afraid of something. Not everybody expressess fear, but they all experience it. Everyone is familiar with that dispairing emotion. Everyone knows what it feels like to be crippled by something they cannot control; something they can't seem to get rid of.

I'm not scared of spiders or snakes or hights. I don't scream when I watch scary movies, or when I almost crash the car. I'm not afraid of life, and I'm not afraid of death. I don't mind climbing, and I don't fear falling. I fear failure. I fear that one day I will mess up so badly, that what I have done is hopelessly irriversable. I fear that one day someone will need me, and I will not know how to help them. This fear defines me. This single fear is what makes me who I am. It is what makes you who you are. You can either carry it, or fight it. It will probably fight back, but you need to decide if the risk is worth it. There is a big difference between survivng your life, and living it.

Judgement Day

The medic stood and faced his God,
Upon his judgment day.
He hoped his uniform was clean,
unsure what God would say.
"Step forward now, paramedic.
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To my word have you been true?"
The medic squared his shoulders and said,
"No Lord I guess I ain't,
cause those of us who wade in blood,
can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
and at times my talk was tough.
There were times my faith had faltered,
‘cause the job is awful rough.
But I never took a penny
that wasn't mine to keep.
I worked a lot of overtime,
when the bills got really steep.

We both already know,

I wasn’t in it for the pay.

I wasn’t in it for the glory,

And until my dying day,

I never passed a cry for help,

though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God forgive me,
I wept unmanly tears.
I know there is no place for me,
among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
except to calm their fears.
If you have a place for me,
it needn't be so grand.
I’ll be forever grateful if you do,
But if you don't I understand."
There was silence all around the throne,
where saints had often trod.
As there medic waited quietly
for the judgment of his God.
"Step forward now, paramedic,
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on heavens streets,
You've done your time in hell."

I'm thinking about you

I’m thinking about you. I’m thinking about you like a best friend should. I’m thinking about all the times that we had while you were here. I can remember. I remember everything. I remember every time we got in trouble. I remember every time we got in a fight. I remember every time you made me laugh, and every time you made me cry. I remember it, and I think about it. I think about it all the time. I think about how things used to be. I’m thinking about how you didn’t have to die. You shouldn’t have died. I’m thinking about what I could have done to make you see how much life is worth it. I’m thinking about how I should have done things differently. I’m still thinking about you. I’m thinking about you, and how you always had my back. I’m wishing that you knew that I always had yours, too. I’m thinking about your funeral. I’m thinking about how I thought I couldn’t cry anymore. I’m thinking about looking down at you, and thought how different you looked when you weren’t smiling. I’m thinking about how I wish I could make you smile again. I’m thinking about how much I wish I could hear your laugh, just one more time. I’m thinking about you like a best friend should. I’m thinking about you. Everyday. All the time.