Call Me Bitch One Mo’ Time | Say My Name, Dave Chappelle

“CALL ME BITCH ONE MO’ TIME”

For the record, Deon Cole,

Dave Chappelle barely said "nkr" 5 times loudly. 

but "b*tch" was spoke well, clear and proudly. 

I often support Dave's truthspeak,

But I'm growing tired of his hard-on disease. 

His persistent erectness, 

Our tragic disrespectness.

I can't laugh anymore, 

Since Daffy Trump's 4.

Say my name, Dave Chappelle.  

"Jacquelyn." 

It's worthy. It's prolific. 

You languorous commoner.

 You son of a b*tch. 

I can laugh and have fun.

I can take a joke.

I'm on a powerful mission.

To unconfuse some folks.

        -JackieDRockwell

 Anyone can teach you about love. I can make you good at it.

| Prose and Photo by Jackie D. Rockwell | All Rights Reserved © 2008-2020 |

Empathic Tea | Nine Eleven Empath Trigger

Be brave. Go your own way. 

Please come back.

Together time with the energy of the nine eleven lost; the path makers and course changers whose life forces abruptly left and abruptly return. The sky’s their limit. My sensors unwrap, spread out, breath deeply, sit still this time. Avoiding black, absorbing the love of why they gather. Having been made better, reunite, bringing things for every one. Teaching us to do more with less. Without them. We’ve had too! But we do need rest.

But it comes again from the ground up. 

Towers old and new.

A befitting rule: Opt out of anxiety pills today. To be spirit availed of manifest energies in vast array. Emotion overload, the souvenirs of discomforting skin tingling and tiny raised arm hairs. The bold pain of knowing the why, two days prior to nine eleven energy in the sky.

Go again, your own way, now. 

Until next time.

 Anyone can teach you about love. I can make you good at it!

| Photo & prose by Jackie D. Rockwell |All Rights Reserved © 2008-2020 |

Writing in Pain | Just Know Your Pace

Kick writer's block to the curb. 

Write on your back if you have to. 

Write while in distress and agony. 

While suffering and medicated. 

Write in your sleep during torments and aches. 

Else the words will not keep. 

Lest the anguish can not wait. 

Blacked out, hit the ground

Don't wake me up, don't put me down.

Julian date 20205

4pm #IAM still alive!

Needing sustenance and rehab

To begin to get busy.

Can't eat or meditate

Without feeling dizzy

Crabmeat scramble or cereal? asks my appetite.

A mind-fuck decision every day every night.

Disgusted with almond milk right now.

But I can't do the honors with juice from a cow.

Munching it dry.

Four hours go by.

Hannibal pangs

Prickly needles in my brain.

The right side complains

The left -not a thing.

Hearing over and over

Back to Black refrains.

Determined to heal

Without too many pills.

But now! without massage

And chiropractor bills.

Eyes feeling strained.

Lips berry stained.

So! Fucking what!

Ok! I am vain.

This is insane.

How now life sways,

From love making solace

Into the throes of confinement days.     

So folks.... To write or not to write? That is the question. Especially when you're not feeling your best. Writing is soul work for me. I have written essays, lengthy letters, email tomes and blog posts on a whim. Whether I'm being paid to write, or I'm working on a personal project, once I get started, I'm a Marathoner with controlled energy to get it all out- but at a steady pace. By contrast, when I am in migraine mode, I am a Sprinter.  An idea will come to me, and I will, over a period of hours, days or create. Growing/developing the content, and sometimes blowing the commentary out of proportion. In which case, I delete... a lot.

Since my concussion, I must make an intense effort to write in brilliant and creative mini-bursts.  Editing as I go. Fine tuning every line. This method absolutely works for me!  Also, since my concussion, I'm even more happy to write about anything. Even you.

So what's your writing pace?

I'm always eager to publish right now, but, doing so, makes the art feel rushed. I never strive for perfection in writing form, except for when I am paid to, but my perfection is in my content. Is it going to make sense or not?  It will or it won't, deliberately. All I wanted you to know is there. Sometimes I tell too much when I write.

Like the poem in this article, for instance. It took me a seven days to complete. Initially, it was to be a short and sweet, one photo essay. I expected to tell the story mostly with that picture and a few rhyming words. I am an expert rhymer. And the photo was selected from my personal stock, then enhanced with PhotoFox.

I have 398 Notes on my phone. They are a collection of poems and essays and chapters to be added to books. Pain or no pain: So when Spirit says "WRITE" in all caps, I write.

Many blessings,
Jackie

 Anyone can teach you about love... but I can make you good at it!

| This original photo & prose by Jackie D. Rockwell |

|All Rights Reserved © 2008-2020 |