Black Ink (Old Cartridges)
May 2020 I try writing and nothing comes out. What was once a loud, rushing white river rapids had now dried to a dusty road of what once was. Cracks had formed in the brown ground, evidence of life that once was. Have I limited myself to one writing style when I could be writing something else? Stories, themes, and sermons swirled in my mind together creating a mesh of an overwhelming overload of creativity. I put my lyric pen down and picked up my story pencil. I create my own blog and begin to preach sermons at my church. Was songwriting over with or comatose with no end date for recovery? In what once was a devastating fear got converted to faith as I painfully tore off the behemoth growth of music but wrapped the wound quickly as to deter the infection of further writer’s block as I kept writing in new styles, ironically this time not just as a rapper. July 4, 2010 My friend David was a Christian but also a freestyle rapper. He seemed so cool and super talented as...