Hello all my name is Cleveland
Im a Chicago native. This is my first time on a blog as well as sharing my work. My work speaks for itself, its a collection of life instances and life experiences, the transition from boy to man. I hope you all get a chance to follow real talent and please give honest feedback….if there’s any questions please don’t hesitate to ask email: email@example.com
[Terry: Well, as opposed to most people who say they’re talented–realtalented is.]
via realtalented | About.
I’m unapologetic for the things I was born with
for the bad luck and trouble that persist
truthfully it made me better may I insist
had to change my life, this writing is a helpful assist
vague resemblance of a writer exists
it’s powerful how i can control words with just a flick of my wrist
I’m unapologetic for this book’s cover
they never told u it’s not good to judge others?
tired of nay sayers, haters, and blood suckers
u don’t appeal to me, you’re not real to me because it’s your life that suffers
my life is a clutter
but I’m finally straightening things up, where’s my swiffer duster
I’m unapologetic for my addiction to beautiful faces
and it’s true I love all races
because honestly I look for the angel that traces
I consume their auras just to get wasted
but nervous to approach them like they were sacred
with so many heavenly creatures I’m faded
I’m unapologetic for being elevated
how 420 is so regularly celebrated
ok maybe that’s a little exaggerated
I might be considered a pothead but I’m well educated
those euphoric buds really have me infatuated
got tired of people trying to school me, so I graduated
the person I’ve become is poetic
a little pathetic but u have to respect it
I am who I am, I’m unapologetic
This is a video we did a few months back. It’s an introduction to our live, random, improv show where we pick a topic and ask random people. This 100% unscripted and unrehearsed show will soon be on youtube filling your day with laughter and knowledge so stay tuned. Can u guess which one is Silent Rob?….Shout out to Mr. John Hill and the Wildbeats Team
I’m in outer space feeling like I’m out of space about to space out my pace to this race is untraceable I’m a real and honest dude there’s an endangered few my ish isn’t kosher but shouldn’t matter unless you’re a jew I’m immaculate in your view that triangle face will rack up your crew for that eight ball as soon as I give the cue talent stuck to me like glue u can try to body this but my bite resembles a hippopotamus when I get hungry them dots connect four in your chest and I’m not going to be sorry because u should have gotten a clue I apologize for my tourette’s I’m just warning u I do it all I’m versatile not that social though so when people see me they say we never heard of u that’s cool what happened to them good old days I wish I had my childhood back I like my life was reversible the lyrical ammunition I hold can leave u topless like a convertible so maybe with more views I can someday become your idol and if not then I’m going to call u a pawn because if u come at me wrong you’re clearly suicidal see this is very vital for those with a one track mind like a unicycle I’m cold like AK I spit glaciers like the rifle I’m sometime spiteful my company is delightful its nothing I can’t write to
- Un Apologetic (realtalented.wordpress.com)
- Rihanna opens up in ‘Unapologetic’ (audiomob.wordpress.com)
What Happens to Us
[Continued from a previous post]
Standing in a cemetery where your 19th-century forebears are buried is a humbling experience. Beside me was my long-lost cousin, Preston Taylor, Jr. We were standing in front of the tombstone of our common great-great-grandfather, John H. Groves and his wife Caroline.
Preston and I couldn’t have been more different. I’m a UCLA graduate from L.A. with a penchant for pink satin shirts, and he’s a country mechanic who repairs combines and doesn’t have a penchant for anything, wouldn’t think of having a penchant–What kind of word is that, anyway?!–but wears overalls and a beany, excuse the deprecation.
Computers brought our lines together again. If it weren’t for the power of the PC, we wouldn’t be here. A couple years ago, I subscribed to Ancestry.com, which is a true revolution in the search for one’s roots, believe me. Suddenly, genealogy has become digitized, which has been an exponential improvement in that type of research. Suddenly, long-lost relatives can share family trees on the Internet. Suddenly, a computer does all the sharing for you. Suddenly, a company is digitizing census records (back to 1790), Civil War pension records, gravestones, immigration records, ship passenger lists, historical phone books, even church directories, and we have access to all of them automatically.
To give you an idea how revolutionary this technology all is, consider this. Three years ago, I didn’t even know the name of my great-grandfather, much less when he was born. Now, after long nights on the computer during which it was impossible to tear myself away to go to bed because I was so excited, I know his name was Charles (born 1869), that his father was named John (born 1836), and that his father before him was named John, as well (born 1792).
John H. Groves was what tied Preston and I together, indeed, perhaps the only thing. He was born in 1836 and raised his family in Duck Creek, Kansas. But there, our bloodlines split (see diagram below). His daughter Rosa fell in love with a Taylor and stayed in rural Kansas, tilling the soil. John’s son Charles moved away, and Charles’ sons moved even further away, until today, we all live in teeming, seething, gridlocked, glitzy, flaky, overdeveloped Los Angeles. Thinking about the difference between us, it seemed that this last element–the pure density of bodies–was the most obvious one.
I learned so many curious things about my forebears on my computerized genealogy network. I learned that my ancestor Daniel Beinbrech was born in Germany, that he immigrated to America around 1750, and that his son Henry Americanized his name to Bonebrake, only to be changed to Bonebright by the next generation, probably because of how barbaric that name made them sound in this new language.
I learned that dozens of my relatives had lived out their lives in famed Essex County, Massachusetts, in 1692, when Salem Village (also in Essex County) began trying innocent people for witchcraft. My forebear Sarah Conant had a ringside seat. She was 26 years old when Sarah Good was executed, followed by approximately 30 others over the next few months.
The computer gave me the incredible access to names, dates, and details, and it connected me to the past in an extraordinary way by sparking just one thought: We all come from somewhere.
It was a thought that has stayed with me. And I had the digital revolution to thank for it.
“Would you like to see the old homestead?” Preston asked after we had spent a half-hour at John and Caroline’s tombstone.
Preston was the somewhere from whence I came.
“Sure,” I said.
So we jumped into his dilapidated white Neon and drove over gravel roads.
“Listen, if you want, I’ll send you my genealogical research by email,” I said.
Then Preston surprised me.
“Don’t have a computer. Don’t want one.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“Okay, I’ll send it by post office. Is there still a post office in the United States?”
“I pick up my mail every day.”
While driving, Preston talked a little about his business, which since the 1980s has been fixing people’s vehicles out in the country. For years, he has been driving these country roads and making house calls. Cars, trucks, tractors, combines, whatever they needed fixed. He made a lot of money doing that and packed a lot of it away into a savings account.
“But then gas prices started skyrocketing and I had to raise my prices,” Preston said. “And then people stopped fixing things. If they have a rusted-out tractor, they’d rather throw it away and buy a new one. I charged sales tax, everything on the up and up. And then three years ago, the state tax board says I can’t file my sales tax manually anymore, I have to do it by computer. So that was the end of my business.”
It seemed like I was missing something.
“You could get somebody to file it for you by computer,” I said.
“No, I don’t do computers.”
“So you haven’t worked in three years?”
“No, I’m living off of savings.”
“Couldn’t you get a job working at a repair shop in Emporia?”
“After so many years being my own boss, I can’t work under somebody.”
It was a puzzle. He could take apart a tractor engine and put it back together, but he couldn’t figure out a Windows Start button. He could figure out how to make a living in a region that the money had deserted decades ago, and yet he can’t figure out how to use a mouse. He carried within his memory all these stories about his great-grandfather, including the astounding one that after the Civil War, John H. Groves had walked the 230 miles from Sullivan County, Missouri, to Lyon County, Kansas–walked! after being wounded and listed on his Civil War pension as an “invalid”!–and yet he wasn’t even curious about the Internet.
These were mysteries that were just starting to unfold.
[To be continued]
A “Literal” approach to God’s word
If Jesus meant something else, he would have said something else.
First thing to know about me is that I am very married, first to the word of God, and then to my wife Laurie. We live in Portland Oregon, and have children from previous marriages that are all grown up except for my 18 year old son who lives with his mother in Tacoma, WA.
My history is full of turmoil and suffering, mostly self inflicted. I have one mission, to speak the truth about love and hopefully help other believers come to the knowledge that love is not optional, it is required. From a past filled with hatred and drug abuse, I have been set free by the truth of the gospel.
As a teen-ager and through my first marriage, I destroyed lives because of hatred and selfishness. In 2002 I pulled off the highway, unable to drive because I was in so much distress my eyes could not focus. I was near Hermiston Oregon and the day was hot, sunny and beautiful but my life had turned into darkness and pain because I could not face what had become of me. Alone, abandoned and hopeless, I began to cry because the suffering in my soul had consumed me to the point of physical pain.
In agony I cried and said to God, “You know I love you God, but I hate everyone else.” This was the beginning of the life I now live, a long road full of ups and downs, but looking back I see how God took me to the valley of death and left me with no other options except to find the truth and follow Him out of my despair.
Everything I believed and thought was wiped away after God rebuked me and showed me my eternal error. God put this thought in my head;
“No you don’t!”
What!? I thought surely that couldn’t have come from God because I love God. However, I could not shake the feeling that God did put that thought in my head. I don’t know if God or if something from my spirit urged me to believe that God is the one who said, “No you don’t!” How could I not love Jesus, how could I hate God? The thought was so outrageous that I denied its origins. God knows I love him, he would never say that to me. So I replied to the thought, “God if that thought did come from you, show me scripture to back it up because I know I love you.” God planted another thought in my head, 1st John 4:20. I am not a big believer in the randomness of scripture, nor do I open my bible and look for a message from God on the page opened. When 1st John 4:20 entered my mind, I didn’t give it much value because I will conjure up scripture all by myself and discover it carried no personal meaning for my life in that moment. However, I decided to play along, and I opened up my bible and began to read from 1st John 4:20.
‘If anyone says, “I love God,” yet hates his brother, he is a liar…”’
Right before my eyes, written long ago, as if God prepared that scripture beforehand because he knew one day I would be in utter despair and would say, “You know I love you God, but I hate everyone else.”
I have come far since that day in 2002, and from that time on I loathed the protective walls I built around my heart. I did not immediately come out of my distress; I was not delivered from hate. I was blind and now I could see, I was lost in darkness and saw light. I had finally been given a goal, a map of sorts and on that map I knew where I was and where I needed to go. From that one truth I have discovered so many truths concerning our words, our hearts, and our actions. That is why I write, that is the message I want to share. Hopefully others will see truth and stop believing the traditions that have no Godly value and allow us to continue living in darkness believing we have light.
I was born in August 1970, I was made alive in August 2002.
To continue reading this testimony, http://memoriesofsalvation.wordpress.com/2013/03/23/god-loves-you-a-brief-testimony-about-my-journey/
My job is trucking, my hours vary, in some cases I may be unable to respond for over 48hrs. I do respond to all comments, and generally love checking out the blogs of those who take the time to engage. I am blessed to be a part of the Christian wordpress community, and I enjoy seeing what God is doing in so many lives around the world. This has become a sourse of encouragement for me, and a place where I can encourage others.