Feelin' The Vibe

You can’t place your finger on it, but between the sunny global warmed summers, to the funky people we meet with supercalafragalisticexpialadoshucal subcultures that make for awesome sessions with borderline Rasta’s. A time when he sons of peasants mix with the daughters of kings in the flashing darkness of the longest street in town. Or the cool south easterly breeze fanning you as you find yourself on the 4th beach people travel the world to see. 

I can’t put my finger on it but with each beat of my heart as the blood filled with inebriation flows drop by drop through the ventricles of my body. I lose my cares, can’t feel my face, crack a smile stretching from ear to ear. The music waves its way into my aura, my body becomes susceptible to the sounds of the music man. 

But we can’t put our fingers on it but it’s the feeling in the air as the young night turns old, the faraway morn becomes close, the flashes in the darkness dim and the music silences My smile still vivid, happiness in heart, I farm together my comrades we march orderly to the metal box of transportation. We begin the voyage home we began sharing stories that’ll grow gold as our souls age, it’ll always be remembered in our mental as the good old days and we can’t put our finger on it but it’s the night of life.

"love is not just a verb its you looking in the mirror"

burt_the_ert

The Question

Who am I, who am I, who am I factually speaking I’m young, male, student …

actualities don’t tell a story the way it should, so “who I am” is a question I live to write, one that gets scripted daily, but as it stands I see myself as an individual with a vast knowledge of information and experiences that I have acquired from being an arithmetic mean in a generation of commoners wanting to be outliers.

The world to me does not appear to be a vivid spectrum of hues , but the colours instead sway before me in a poetic diction that reveals before me stories of a vast depth those unseen and untold.

Deep, but to keep things short and somewhat interesting “who I am” comes from being a not so innocent bystander in wars between the good and the bad, street smart and book wise and hearing  the voice telling me no then having the “ah just do it ” kind of feeling.

So, my challenge to you as my reader is to somehow read between my blurry lines of linguistics, my failed attempts of aspiring as a writer, and just supporting a brah in finding his artistic voice - if he has one at all.

Obsevationist by night and just doing enough Daily to get by.

burt_the_ert