A Brief History of the Collapse of the 21st Century

Bill Jones, Jr.:

Seemed appropriate, given the current climate surrounding the Ebola virus.

Originally posted on Hard as Roxx:

This is a prologue to my Sci-Fi thriller, Hard as Roxx™. It paints the story of a slow decline of Earth’s culture into dystopia. It is also an alternate take to the scenario painted in the story “Due South” (published in The Juice and Other Stories). Admittedly, it is quite atypical for a short story. However, I thought fans of science fiction would enjoy seeing how one small event can trigger another, leading to a complete change to life as we know it. It also lays out how I developed the world that is Roxx’s home in the year 2137. I hope you enjoy the story. Fellow writers are free to use the 21st-century timeline as a basis for their stories, but I would appreciate an acknowledgment if you do. Also, be advised that Hard as Roxx™ and Roxanne Grail™ are trademarks of Panthera Press™ and cannot be…

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100 Days of Art – Day 3: The Sound of My Heart

Featured Image -- 6210

Originally posted on Just Me:

click “play” then read.
(For Mariamor)

if i’d listened to my heart …

in the days when artistry crept, a humid dawn
over my wooded life that startled me awake
and i remember it was like falling from a dream
after a mosquito-infested night. i rose,
heard the bass in my head, and it sang,
loud, clarion, and
in God’s baritone, “You.”

my heart heard it, but i’d been taught
by empty love
to live in my head. i was good in my head
“brilliant,” the teachers whispered
“make him one of us.”
and so one of them, one of you, none of me
i became.
and so when my heart sang,
thume, pum, bum, bapadoo, thume, poom,
boom
my frightened mind hid amid the rubble
of my grandmother’s utility room

i utilized the shit-stowed stench
to quench my heart’s yearnings
convinced myself—the good son—dad
could ill…

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Hard as Roxx Soundtrack

Originally posted on This Blog Intentionally Blank:

All of my books have a soundtrack. It’s probably because in my head, they all play out as movies. For now, however, they will have to content themselves as books. My latest book is Hard as Roxx, release date 2012. Below is a sampling of videos from its soundtrack.

If you only listen to one, try “Jangfata,” which means “The Road Is Long.” It is the pacing and the energy of the book. Although the story is Dystopian, I have quite a different view of what life will be under an oppressive regime. Life finds a way.

I realize the song selections will seem random now, but trust me, they will make more sense when you read the book. Put on your dancing shoes, clothes your eyes, and be. Roxx is gonna take you places you’ve never been.

Meet Roxx – “Do It Like a Dude,” by Jessie J

Desert Time…

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Don’t Give Up.

Bill Jones, Jr.:

And the moral of this story is …

Originally posted on Just Me:

This was an ordinary day, at an ordinary time, in an ordinary place.

There once was a man, who needed to reach the sea. For years, he’d been tormented by the People. They bullied him in school; they never understood when he spoke, for he wasn’t from wherever it was he’d drifted to when he found the People. So, on an ordinary day, one full of ordinary heartache, he decided that he must leave. He had naught but a very small boat, made from the old tire of an enormous tractor. To reach the sea, and freedom, he had to cross miles of scorched earth, with nothing to protect him from the sun. He had no shoes, no shirt, no hope.

But he did have his boat.

After pondering his predicament, he decided that the boat would make a Very Nice Hat. So he wore the boat, reaching the sea…

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Monroe Park, Richmond, Virginia, 1978

Bill Jones, Jr.:

Ya’ll don’t hear me.

Originally posted on Firewing Photography:

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This piece is dedicated to these men, living in the still Old South, in Richmond, Virginia, USA in the 70s. The steely-red-eyed gentleman in the back is watching my two good friends playing African congas in the park. His friend sits and listens. We are the “cultural” youth, embracing our “Africanism” for the first time. I have hope.

Nearly forty years later, my hope is fading, just like the colours in this photo. The “featured” shot was scanned in years ago from the only remaining print. The shot above I restored from the wounded, faded negative. I wonder if my hope can be renewed so easily.

For Tupac and Threepac and all you other niggrandizing Littlepacs. May you rest, in or out of peace. Y’all don’t hear me.

Poet Trees

Devalued by pretense and greed
our brown fruit bears a bitter seed.
It grows in sons, untended crop.
It festers…

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Seclusion

Originally posted on Firewing Photography:

1-10 April 2010 -No 051a

Seclusion smells of grapes suffused with loss.
Its sweetened undertones seduce post-sunset.
Alone’s an acquired taste, like strong cigars.
She’s Pinot Noir once fruited, sugared in August
with hints of currant and cherry or raspberry.
Her sweet appeal first dances on the tongue
like Maduro smoke, swirled with brandy, refined,
but left to dry, ferment, until
acerbic, soured. Bitter wine is she,
Alone, to drink; and lord, is she a hard
damn mistress. Slips inside a paper bed
and slides herself betwixt your loins and licks
of cold. She sings of barriers from winter winds.

She lies, you know. Alone’s a whore who sleeps
with those naïve enough to call her name.
We feel her wet, cold breath, the bitter tongue
of her. She’s sexing us, keeping memories near
and friends at bay; attention hound is she.
She likes her drink, Alone, and so do I.
And in the winter…

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More Bad Poetry from my Yout’

The things we do as yoots.

Yoots!

But He Don’t Take American Express

Word.
Met this cat name Luce
other night
on The Corner
hunnet twenny-fif’ street an’ Lennox.
He was just hangin
with the fellas.
Dem neggas ain’t no good
but
Luce, he cool.
We was checkin out da honeys
and selling rock
by the tens.
Good night, you know?

He took a liking to me
right off.
Gone set me up
some heavy connections
you know, some serious weight
an’ not everybody
gets the good stuff.
Gotta make the most
when opportunity knock.
Dat’s what Mama
use to say.
Like I said,
bruh Luce an’ me
was down.

He even told me
I could pay him
his cut
later.

Said I was going
places.

6/12/1987