(workshop poetry from UrbanWordNYC)
April 5, 2005
Imagine hanging out with your inquisitive mind under the Brooklyn Bridge and falling in love with your soul. There it is. The secret exposed. I found my passion in my identity. I experienced the scene not for its purpose of delivering people to their destinations. I whispered my thoughts onto the page and found out what love was about. The false infatuations with the cuties I came in contact with dissipated. I mean, this love was separate from any mutual connection. I was on a a spiritual high with the purity of me absent from any anguish to demolish my hate. I peered into the water too far to see my reflection; but I saw not the blue; I witnessed life and the beauty of me. I fell in love on the brooklyn bridge with my soul. R&B sang to me. Hip-Hop spit its rawest degree to me. The wind captured me as I fell in love. It was irrelevant if anyone despised my joy because the love haters would always hate me as loves new found equal. My civil action to be about Aja was/is just as romantic as experiencing a love jones unlisted. I'm in love with my athletic ability, my social personality, my multiple ethnicities... overall I'm in love with me.
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