Written By: Anthony Douglas Gere
Music Provided By: SEMusic
Artistry Selected By: Main Ad Centre
All Material is protected by law under the
licensing of mcwhorter management
marketing manufacturing 2005
Any unauthorized usage and or its likeness
is prohibited by law.
Music Provided By: SEMusic
Artistry Selected By: Main Ad Centre
All Material is protected by law under the
licensing of mcwhorter management
marketing manufacturing 2005
Any unauthorized usage and or its likeness
is prohibited by law.
Or Does It?
By Anthony Douglas Gere
Its one of those rainy days, and I’m debating if I should go outside and indulge myself in
these mini forms of liquid sunshine, or chill here at the house. It’s not like there’s
anything really pressing for me to do today, or somewhere I really need to be, but living
here in my house and having a place to stay and work, allows this choice to cross my
mind. I could go out and come back if things get a little worse, but it doesn’t look that
bad, and hey, a little bit of rain, never killed anyone. Or has it? It’s not really cold, but its
definitely not one of those short sleeve t-shirt and short kind of days. I’m strolling
around the house like I own it or something, wearing pajama bottoms, a full-length
white cotton bathrobe and black cushioned cloth slippers. Calmly coming through the
speakers of my stereo is another “Moodsetter” music disc from “The Panel”, randomly
playing songs that fit the mood of the fire I had already started, a couple hours earlier.
The Multi-talented Meat Loaf, is the vocalist that radiating off of the walls and ceilings.
The song, “I would do anything (for love), was balancing my mood, as it was starting to
hit home base in my heart, making me think to myself, what would I actually do for love,
once I found it. I’m in somewhat a daze, as I look over a t my desk. On atop of it, there
are four things that I gravitate towards, and make awaken to a subconscious state.
There is my morning cup of coffee, the universal remote control for all of my
entertainment equipment, a computer generated photo of my girlfriend and a award I
had received a few years back, from a company I was contracted to consult, overseas.
But I’m mentally flowing back and forth mainly from the riggers of Wall Street, to the
warm feeling of Main Street. From Electric Avenue, to Bullshit Boulevard. I’m doing my
best Aretha Franklin impression in riding on the freeway of love, as I sing the old rock
anthem, “ Life In The Fastlane”. I’m once again revisiting a déjà vu moment for the first
time, in listening to each individual rain drop fall, as the sun stays hidden behind the
dark clouds that are subliminally controlling my mood. I’m trying to single out distinctive
sounds of these drops, or concentrate deeply on the weight and or velocity of each drop
hitting the surface of what it finds. I’m now really struggling with the fact of leaving the
house, because I’m not one for getting wet, unless I’m making someone feel that way,
if you know what I mean. I’m torn on what to do, so I open up the doors wider, to gauge
the progress of the storm with my naked eyes. I once again gather my thoughts, take
in a deep breath, and make up my mind and vocalize my thoughts and say, “ What ever I
do right now, to someone in China, it doesn’t really matter”. Or does it?
Now as I’m looking at the television screen, I’m drawn to this elderly distinguish
looking gentleman, in a conversation with Mr. Charlie Rose. His face is not
recognizable to me, but then again, neither are you, if we have ever crossed paths
and never been formally introduced. But in my opinion, Mr. Rose doesn’t just
interview just anyone, so I lower the volume on the stereo, and raise the same on the
idiot box. I hear this man speaking very proper, and then start wondering even more,
who is this man on my screen? As he continues to speak and answer more
questions, it comes to find out from the sub-title that popped up on the screen when
they showed his face, that he is a professor of History at the prestigious Duke
University in North Carolina. Before I had seen his name, I was thinking he might
have been a dignitary or politician or something. And when they said Duke, I was
wondering if this guy was a coach before Coach K, or something like that. I had
stereotyped him, and didn’t even know it. I guess I was thinking these things
because I had never seen this man before, and I was now becoming curious. I start
flashing through my memory banks to try and recall his features. I’m going through
my mental rolodex on the articles I’ve read, skimmed through, the news papers and
all. I’m searching out the mental blogs, web features and current events, and coming
up with nothing. So now I’m super duper curious, and now fixed on the screen, like on
the buttons that have been crafted into the mold. At this point, I don’t think I really care
what he’s talking about, I just want to know, who in the hell is this man talking to Charlie
Rose. Comes to find out, his name is John Hope Franklin. A nobody to mainstream
America so to speak, but a somebody to those that control mainstream America, if you
know what I men. I wont go deep into his biography, or how and what he represents.
But if you have a moment or two one day, I highly advise any and all people, to search
out his Biography, and learn more about this remarkable human being.
By Anthony Douglas Gere
Its one of those rainy days, and I’m debating if I should go outside and indulge myself in
these mini forms of liquid sunshine, or chill here at the house. It’s not like there’s
anything really pressing for me to do today, or somewhere I really need to be, but living
here in my house and having a place to stay and work, allows this choice to cross my
mind. I could go out and come back if things get a little worse, but it doesn’t look that
bad, and hey, a little bit of rain, never killed anyone. Or has it? It’s not really cold, but its
definitely not one of those short sleeve t-shirt and short kind of days. I’m strolling
around the house like I own it or something, wearing pajama bottoms, a full-length
white cotton bathrobe and black cushioned cloth slippers. Calmly coming through the
speakers of my stereo is another “Moodsetter” music disc from “The Panel”, randomly
playing songs that fit the mood of the fire I had already started, a couple hours earlier.
The Multi-talented Meat Loaf, is the vocalist that radiating off of the walls and ceilings.
The song, “I would do anything (for love), was balancing my mood, as it was starting to
hit home base in my heart, making me think to myself, what would I actually do for love,
once I found it. I’m in somewhat a daze, as I look over a t my desk. On atop of it, there
are four things that I gravitate towards, and make awaken to a subconscious state.
There is my morning cup of coffee, the universal remote control for all of my
entertainment equipment, a computer generated photo of my girlfriend and a award I
had received a few years back, from a company I was contracted to consult, overseas.
But I’m mentally flowing back and forth mainly from the riggers of Wall Street, to the
warm feeling of Main Street. From Electric Avenue, to Bullshit Boulevard. I’m doing my
best Aretha Franklin impression in riding on the freeway of love, as I sing the old rock
anthem, “ Life In The Fastlane”. I’m once again revisiting a déjà vu moment for the first
time, in listening to each individual rain drop fall, as the sun stays hidden behind the
dark clouds that are subliminally controlling my mood. I’m trying to single out distinctive
sounds of these drops, or concentrate deeply on the weight and or velocity of each drop
hitting the surface of what it finds. I’m now really struggling with the fact of leaving the
house, because I’m not one for getting wet, unless I’m making someone feel that way,
if you know what I mean. I’m torn on what to do, so I open up the doors wider, to gauge
the progress of the storm with my naked eyes. I once again gather my thoughts, take
in a deep breath, and make up my mind and vocalize my thoughts and say, “ What ever I
do right now, to someone in China, it doesn’t really matter”. Or does it?
Now as I’m looking at the television screen, I’m drawn to this elderly distinguish
looking gentleman, in a conversation with Mr. Charlie Rose. His face is not
recognizable to me, but then again, neither are you, if we have ever crossed paths
and never been formally introduced. But in my opinion, Mr. Rose doesn’t just
interview just anyone, so I lower the volume on the stereo, and raise the same on the
idiot box. I hear this man speaking very proper, and then start wondering even more,
who is this man on my screen? As he continues to speak and answer more
questions, it comes to find out from the sub-title that popped up on the screen when
they showed his face, that he is a professor of History at the prestigious Duke
University in North Carolina. Before I had seen his name, I was thinking he might
have been a dignitary or politician or something. And when they said Duke, I was
wondering if this guy was a coach before Coach K, or something like that. I had
stereotyped him, and didn’t even know it. I guess I was thinking these things
because I had never seen this man before, and I was now becoming curious. I start
flashing through my memory banks to try and recall his features. I’m going through
my mental rolodex on the articles I’ve read, skimmed through, the news papers and
all. I’m searching out the mental blogs, web features and current events, and coming
up with nothing. So now I’m super duper curious, and now fixed on the screen, like on
the buttons that have been crafted into the mold. At this point, I don’t think I really care
what he’s talking about, I just want to know, who in the hell is this man talking to Charlie
Rose. Comes to find out, his name is John Hope Franklin. A nobody to mainstream
America so to speak, but a somebody to those that control mainstream America, if you
know what I men. I wont go deep into his biography, or how and what he represents.
But if you have a moment or two one day, I highly advise any and all people, to search
out his Biography, and learn more about this remarkable human being.