Am I Not Angry (Enough)?

I really do care
Sadly, it shows more on my blogs than in real life most of the time
Whenever I see or research injustice
I had to talk about it
Whenever my anger shows
I’m told to calm down

Sorry for actually giving a crap about what’s happening in the world.

I’m not just some random DIY author, film critic, poet, or avant-garde composer on the net
I see myself as a human being first and foremost
Wouldn’t be diminishing to suppress my emotions?
I guess people want me to be a robot or a zombie

Perhaps I care too much
Enough to fume on a blog or raise my voice
I guess my volume elevating is more threatening
Than violent people outside the jails
I shouldn’t have to be sorry for emoting while bombarding those with the truth
I’ve seen injustice
I’ve been a victim of it
For this, I won’t be sorry for making many people uncomfortable when I have to

I’ve been silenced and my emotions have nowhere else to go
It’s a miracle I haven’t been trolled for facts and opinions on here and other platforms
My anger isn’t a sin.

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Gas Masks and Yellow Lights (Garrett Morgan)

From Paris, Kentucky, I emerged into this world
At a young age, I was on the clock a ton as a handyman and working all the time fixing
Sewing machines
I had no time for school, so tutors and autodidactic endeavors happened
What I didn’t know back then is that I would save lives

It all started from a tunnel that was ablaze
The men in red couldn’t beat the smoke
I watched them struggle and die from the carbon monoxide
It was time to fix this with a hood and breathing apparatus
I tested the smoke myself, and I still breathed
First responders and WWI soldiers both benefited from my creation
Shame no one believed someone with melanin invented it

Next came witnessing car crash after car crash
Scrap metal and mangled bodies were all I could see
All the signs said were “stop” and “go” manually
Give me the yellow light, I know what to do
The green and red were illuminated, but that had to be an in-between
How come no one else thought of this cautionary sign?
I made traffic signals with three lights and electric
Making warnings and curbing accidents
Shame no one believed someone like me invented it

Much like other innovators, I was taken for granted long after I was laid to rest in Cleveland.

I hope others know who I am.

Reki

I was looked up to by so many in the community
The de facto leader of sorts for them
I was there to show them the way and to learn about the town
After so many hours of being in front of others
I had to retreat to my studio

With canvases, brushes, and paint
I had to express myself when I wasn’t around the rest
While I was seen as the big sibling around
I felt so insecure
Like I was constantly being stepped on
Or having a train racing through my direction

Was I truly ready for flight no matter how small my charcoal feathered wings were?
I hated to admit this, but I needed to be rescued

Trying to Erase My Ignorance

I wish I knew then what I knew now
Altering the past would’ve been a beautiful thing if it was feasible
I was never this genius that some people have told me
I’m still learning, yet I feel that I still don’t know enough
If I could have erased my ignorance
I could’ve had a better life
Bullies would be discredited
And none would dare challenge me again
I want to know and show I’m right
Where no one could argue against what I know

Identity Issues (An Ospreyshire Lament)

Who is Ospreyshire, really?

Is he a poet, musician, or some random blogger who talks about random news stories or movies?

I’m sure many of you thought the same thing at least once. It doesn’t take an ESPer to figure that out.

I do apologize for confusing you and it wasn’t my intent. I just want to be me. How crazy is it that I have so many interests and care about different things.

Does this make me feel like some holier-than-thou person? Does this make me shallow?

I feel like a good portion doesn’t know me or know what Ospreyshire’s about.

No wonder I’ve been trying to streamline everything to have a concrete identity while still not trying to fit in someone else’s box to define me as this or that.

Who is Ospreyshire, really?

Someone who’s trying to find their identity through my words, opinions, and my art. At least that’s what I hope is shining through.

I Wished Loving Myself Was Easy

The title said it all

Years of brainwashing and not knowing it
Caused me to falter in ways I never realized
All because of factors I couldn’t control

Skin pigmentation
Mental state
My personal hobbies

I was a target for all to destroy
No matter how hard I tried
I was destined to fail
If time machines existed, I’d change so many things to be better in my past
It would be the only way to get respect and no one would hurt me anymore

Being Constructive

I was not going to die useless
Even when I’m not at my day job(s)
I’m always creating something
The term “renaissance man” has been thrown at me before
I don’t mind it that much
I know how to work in multiple media

What does concern me is how much people (don’t) care about my creations
The kind words can only go so far
Creativity is my lifeblood
Yet no one care when I spill it into my own projects

Forgiving Myself is Hard

I’m the patron saint and the heir of perfectionism
One mistake and I collapse
Sorrow drowns me with more gallons than an ocean
I can’t lie about my anxiety
Everything needed to stand on a solid rock
While I mistaken that for well-packed sand

I wish I was perfect
No one would criticize me
I wouldn’t need to forgive myself even when others forgive me
Because that would be unnecessary

I hate that I make mistakes

Failure Lingers

Cue that one Terminal song today
That reminder of my high school years reappeared
Disappointment and internalized frustration
Beat me to the punch once again
Despite consoling conversations, it’s been arduous letting go
At least I own up to my shortcomings
Maturity can only go so far
I long for a second chance and to prove my critics wrong
To laugh in their face and to tell them four biting words
“I told you so”
or
“I really did improve”