Black People and the Covid Vaccine

I recently sat down with over a dozen African-Americans to discuss the rollout of the Covid 19 Pfizer vaccine and what to means for the black community. Should you take it or shouldn’t you? Well check out the video and hopefully it can help you to make a more informed decision.

-Roger Porter

Holding it all In

Forgive me. I’ve been going through one of those phases in which I do everything in the world except write. I mean I’ve been bringing work from my job home like everyday, I’ve been going out way too often, I’ve been doing my laundry regularly, I’ve been working out six times a week, and I’ve been spending way too much time on social media (honestly I’ve checked my Facebook about 12 times while writing this).

I haven’t been journaling, my manuscript is somewhere deep inside my thumb drive collecting massive amounts of digital dust, and of course I haven’t been blogging. I did host a reading series on May 18th entitled “Soulful III: Revolutionary Dreams” which was massively successful, but other than that I’ve been void of all artistic expression. I’ve had several super-dynamic, poetic thoughts that have popped into my head but I haven’t had the composure to actually sit down and write them out of my consciousness.

A man was killed by the Oakland Police this past Wednesday, the date was 5/29/13 and I had strong feelings about how the story was unraveling. Apparently the man had a gun and he, as well as the other occupants of his vehicle, was being pursued by police. At some point they all jumped out of the car and flea on foot. One of the men got into a confrontation with police and wound up dead…end of story. I wanted to write about how bizarre it all appeared to be. I mean, either you’re going to run or you’re going to shoot. It always seems like the Oakland Police Department is guilty of murdering those who are running. It’s just kind of strange to me. I was going to write about it but I decided to post the article on Facebook instead.

Then I saw a groundbreaking Cheerios commercial, which featured an interracial couple and their biracial child. The commercial is centered on how the little girl tries to rid her father of future heart disease by dumping a box of cereal on his chest—it’s amazing. Not only because the content is amusing but also because it features a freaking interracial couple. Wow! That is something that rarely ever happens within the confines of the multi-billion dollar behemoth that is American advertisement. But of course people just saw it and hated on it. I suppose these are the same people that believe their evil side-eyes in restaurants, and movie theaters are going to stop interracial couples from loving one another and procreating—yeah right. People can be so self-absorbed and disconnected from the general urge of humanity to elude all of societies expectations that they waste their energy hating what they can never change. This was another topic I was going to write about, however, by the time I got back from work the blogosphere was going nuts over the commercial. I felt like I didn’t really deserve to put my two cents in because I’m not biracial nor am I in an interracial relationship. So I just read about it, commented on it, and kept my mouth shut.

Then there is the whole thing about me being 31 years old and therefore losing every trace of my metabolism. As much as I work out I still feel like a fat ass because no weight is coming off. I’ve gained about fifteen pounds since my amateur boxing days. Maybe the people who I run into on the streets can’t tell but I sure can. It’s wild because the older I get, the more I need to work out but I can’t because I don’t have the time due to work. Work sucks! At any rate I was going to write about it but I was busy sweating it out at the boxing gym trying to lose 10 pounds for the summer. I have also sacrificed my beloved brownie bites until further notice because each time I eat one it goes straight to my hips.

So yeah there you have it, a fist full of excuses as to why I haven’t been writing lately. I guess the next logical thing to do would be to make a commitment to incorporate writing back into my daily life and I promise that I would do that but I can’t write now because my clothes are done drying. I have to get up and fold them immediately. See ya next time.



The Physicality of it all

The physicality of it all. Words are for the weak. Words are so limited. Let me love on you. Be who you are outside of me. Support me. I got you. Do you got me? I shouldn’t be asking. I shouldn’t have to ask. I’d rather lay down than stand up and fight. Let’s be in silence. Follow my lead. You can trust me. Sometimes things don’t come like they should. Sometimes they come too fast.

The kisses. The abandonment. The love. The inconsistencies of a partnership. The affection is gone. The conversation is limited. She had bad nerves while I slept. I slept hard. She couldn’t sleep at all. I didn’t notice until the morning came. I didn’t feel her energy so I apologized. She didn’t accept.

I lost her. Even though she still cums, I lost her. Good intentions dissolve in physicality like sugar dissolves into water. A chemical change. She stops returning my text messages. She misses all of my calls. When I inbox her she doesn’t inbox me back. She must have not gotten that email. Unwanted silence. Distance. Disconnect.

I see her at the Lake. Everyone is always at the Lake. She smiled a painful smile. It wasn’t fake; it felt removed. It wasn’t painful for her; it only hurt me. I know what a genuine smile from her feels like. That wasn’t it. No small talk. No hugs. She’s just a pleasant stranger. She walks her way. I run in mine. Finality can be overwhelming. The lack of hope. The confirmation of failure. The reassurance of loneliness. I kissed her too soon. I had a dream and when I woke up she was gone.


Write or Run




It’s come down to this. My need to perfect my craft has been overcome by my urge to run away from time. My fear for the future has moved me into the past and my detachment from reality has created an unrealistic sense of nostalgia.


I work hard during the day and I often times bring my work home with me. I have a child who lives with me on most weekends. I have a 2nd job that isn’t quite as demanding as the first but it still requires my time. I also have to dedicate at least five hours a week to my personal crusade against obesity. For my metabolism has gone down quite considerably as my age has pushed past 30 and the last thing I want is to become a fat ass. So I run.


As you can see there are many things that pull me away from my writing but, alas, none of these things should be enough. In my youth I had ambitions of being the literary voice of my generation and for many years I actively tried to make that happen; but as of lately I have been immersed in a prolonged state of reflection. My production has slowed down. There are so many thoughts in my head that need to be released; I need to know what I’m feeling.


It has been a while since I’ve been on the literary scene. I haven’t performed at a reading since July but I think I found a new venue. I went to a place last week and the people read work that came from all angles. There were poems, essays, and declarations and there was an abundance of culture. Last week I checked it out and perhaps next week I’ll perform. Then maybe once I have an audience (that I can actually see) I will write more.