Is it bad I just want you for now?

Is it bad I just want you for now? That I don’t see you down the line. But you want me for more time. I tried to tell you this before. I don’t think you actually listened. You have to listen. Process the words I’m saying. Even if it’s not what you want to hear. I let you go. I was feeling selfish. Because even though you haven’t asked for a relationship, I catch your vibes. I see your actions. That’s what you want. Everything doesn’t have to be said with words. I’m not cocky. I’m not saying I got it so much you can’t resist. I’m saying that that’s what you’re saying to me. I’ve been around a little, I know when a man is interested. I know when he’s not. I catch you slipping sometimes. Saying things that make me wonder how far ahead you’ve already gone in your mind. With you and I. But I just want you for now. Maybe longer could happen. But you’d have to change Into something other. I can’t wait for that. I can’t cross my fingers for that. I can’t. I could. But I won’t. And why would I rearrange you? You change if you see it fit. Maybe you are the man of my future. Maybe you are not. As it presently stands, I can not take you as my man. At least not officially. See I’m not tryna lead you on. But it’s like you won’t leave me alone. I like you enough to let you back. But not enough to fall in. And you want me to go there. But friends we shall remain. And I have to move ahead when it’s time. Ask God for help.

On March 8, Hearts Converse hosted the first “KICKBACK” conversation event at The OG Studios in Brooklyn, New York. View the event recap.

Video by JeffStashBox (http://vimeo.com/jeffstashbox)
Sounds: The Stuyvesants

Participants engaged in an in-depth conversation about relationships, life and culture. Hearts Converse’s founder Natelegé Whaley moderated the discussion. .

Toronto is for lovers. Yes I know Paris is usually dubbed the city of romanticism. But my two traveling road dogs, Stacy-Ann and Camille and I, couldn’t help but notice all of the simping and recently wedded couple sightings around us in Canada’s largest city. After 11 hours on a Greyhound,

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High end retail

Ralph Lauren, Gucci, Prada

Door men with tailored suits and hats

gold door knobs and hand crafted gates.

Tree lined blocks, gardens, greenery

made for the rich.

But on the backs of whom?

Park side, Madison, 5th ave, Lexington.

East side is in heaven.

Walk into the wander land of Central Park

and find the forgotten

among the forget me nots.

A woman with her head down pushing a cart

full of her belongings,

possibly her only

as the privileged push their special breed pups and whips

Bimma, Benz, or Bentley.

Restaurants with patio seating

Click clacks of utensils picked up by bus boys who could never afford it

No yellow cab, my driver’s waiting outside.

Steakhouse with nothing but white faces

There’s no struggle here.

Just I made it here and I’m staying here.

A man with more hair on his chin then head

Gray and white

Sits on a bench on 72nd and Lex.

His fruit stand in front of him.

Still out at 10 p.m.

Waiting to make it.

Just trying to get by.

The comfort, a long way from the reality

50 blocks up town

through the 6 train tunnels

where crack heads still roam

All of this wealth.

All of this success.

All of this prosperity.

But at what cost?

And on the backs of whom?

homelesstohoward:

When I first met James, in the spring of 2012, he was living with his mother and two younger siblings in a room at the Union Rescue Mission on Los Angeles’s Skid Row.

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In a room full of excited and hyper kids, James immediately stood out from the other kids, with his soft-spoken air…

“A child is born with a heart of gold / The way of the world makes his heart grow cold”
— Earth Wind & Fire

Fruitvale Station could not have arrived at a more proper time. The film is based on the true story of Oscar Grant’s last moments up to the point he was shot and killed by a BART officer on New Years Day in 2009. The incident, which was clearly a case of racial profiling, set off protests in the

Drunk Man

The clock flashes 11:43 p.m.

A furnace feel

Down below six feet under

20 minutes till the next train comes

Drunk man stumbling on the platform

He stops. He leans. His skin droops.

What are you burying?

What is your story?

Does the toxins in your blood feel better than oxygen?

If so, how do you breath?

The bottle has a genie in fairy tales,

But our wish is not its command in real life.

Stares

All day people stare at me.

Guys and their gaze of lust

And I duck my head or 

cut my eyes at the waves

being shot at me.

All day people stare at me.

Some tourists look at me

I feel it and I ignore it

But then they look twice 

or three times.

Am I on display?

Perhaps my brown eyes and skin

amazes you.

All day people stare at me.

Sometimes the eyes are 

welcomed.

A stranger whose intent is sincere

admiration.

My view must be nice and

in the moment so is theirs.

All day people stare at me

I was on the 3 train and sat down

I looked up

and a little black girl no more than 2

stared at me

She was smiling at me and I smiled back.

I guess all stares aren’t so bad.