I found out that I love 5-star hotels and friendly people and Black jokes and Whites’ too, as long as it is told by an old, good friend. 

I have decided to turn back on the television set now that I know it is me who must draw the line.   No more trying to be perfect.  Perfect, didn’t save the Greeks, the Romans, the French, the Germans, nor the Spanish; and it won’t save me.   Fashion and reason don’t do much for stinky people with no dreams of cleaning up, but we all stink sometimes.

Everybody stinks; the needy, the hopeful, just like the ignorant.  And, hell yes, the players stinks, the suckers, the masses, the fish and the high-rollers, they all stink.  Traditions or propaganda subtle to a fool or one misguided reeks of decay. 

However, we must go on, we are about growth; and beside, everybody knows we humans can’t resist the urge to change. 

Maybe I’ll stop smoking.

Written by Fitzgerald Brown, introducing the new title, Bridges 2007: a book of poems and prose 

(In response to the call of life)

I should be angry if it wasn’t for the oath

Life has never been easy and the weak still fall

Like landmines exploding in my mind

I’d go

Naked

If it hadn’t been done before

So I went down to the river

Pining like one pining for gold

Or a lost love

I pined for

A reflection of myself

Before the dream

Before the industry and the excitement

Before I arrived at the edge

Away from myself

Passing ships are calling

Free your mind

The flag ship is closing in

Prepare for the coming

Dress your houses and want no more

The wind shifts to the

Trees

Trees are to be revered, enjoyed

And the songs of birds should be mocked

Every word should be a joyful one

And march on

I should be angry, If it wasn’t for the coming

Raindrops sent one by precious one

By Fitzgerald Brown

She doesn’t understand me

My belly is growing

She tells me, I’m pregnant

My breast have swollen

My feet, back and shoulders ache

Everything seems to annoy me or

Makes me sentimental

And no one understands me

I guess I must be pregnant

By Fitzgerald Brown

who am i? 

Who am I, I am your brother like the
night Train whistling a tune
on a new day. I got rhythm, I got music,
I got my life, who could ask for anything more.

Catch me if you can
Blackangelfish

By Fitzgerald Brown

Dear Readers, A piece from my story: Notes of an African American on the Run…

     As a child growing up in Charleston, South Carolina often I would drift away, from the many contradictions and conflicts I found around me and would dare to dream the American Dream.         

     Much later in life, I would have the opportunity of living out that dream in Europe and it would be the years, which I’d spent in Amsterdam, leading up to the September 11, 2001 Attack on America I would begin to realize that I was a drifter, living an immature man’s dream in Europe with little regard to the African American dream of equality, which I abandoned when I arrived in Amsterdam, almost some 10 years ago.        

     The part of my life that I would spend in Europe after September 11, 2001 is the time of my life I would gain an important insight into my past frustrations which would generate a spiritual reconciliation which I needed in order to reconcile all that I was feeling inside. I found that part (of me) locked away and buried in my childhood memories. The essence of all man, (the Good) in me, perfect in every way, but made to feel imperfect in an imperfect world.         

      I was younger; I’d just arrived in Amsterdam. As I exited the Central Train Station, I opened my eyes to a magical new world. A sea of orange and I was wearing white. I stuck out like an elephant among the thousands of human pedestrians that filled the international city streets, in honor of the Queen of Orange’s Birthday. I was large and the city was in a state. Never in my wildest dreams would I have believed a city like Amsterdam could really exist. Written descriptions do the city little justice.   

      Mythical, were my first days and months, which soon turned into years. I was lost among the talented, the bright, the indifferent, in a place where coffee and sex were had, early. Open gardens with ancient legendary homes, canals, rowboats, prostitutes, bicycles, trams and fairytale bridges, coupled with outside cafes, whoresons, beautiful people, young and old helped me to forget my earlier days of endless roaming, hiding and concessions.        

      My life was a series of unanswered questions and mixed up dreams. I was caught in the middle, a reactionary. I struggled to understand the meaning of it all, which was kept away from me due to what I now attribute to my immaturity.   

      I was a victim; that was my role, never starring, but always in attendance; Fitzgerald Brown. Life for me was one constant struggle. I always felt I had to do what was expected of me, which I always tried to do, not necessarily because I felt it or wanted to, but most shockingly, because I believed I had no choice.   

      From day one, my life was someone else’s great accomplishment (my parents). I was but a mere feature. All my life, I would try to romanticize my conception and birth, but, for the life of me; I could not understand why it had to be me. There is a song out now by an unknown new British artist, called Wicked and I’m Lazy, that best describes my feelings about myself before September 11, 2001.   

    Even in a liberal, tolerate, environment such as the Netherlands, I could not help but notice the many young males “junks” as they’re called in Europe, predominately men of color, wandering the streets and alleyways of Amsterdam, shadow-figures among the many privileged in Amsterdam’s open and international city.  This sight for me, as a Black male, was thought-provoking, worrying and downright scary. 

    That’s when I decided I would put my thoughts on paper, not knowing if they would ever be read by anyone else. I assembled a few notes and sent it to a friend who then suggested I try to get them published.  After receiving my share of rejection letters from various publishers in Holland, I then decided to extend my search beyond the Netherlands. To my surprise my article, Notes of an African American would be published in the summer 2003, Ten Year Anniversary Issue of the UK’s oldest Diversity Magazine, New Impact giving voice to my perspective of an African American in Europe.  However it would be the amazing response generated from the article that would prompt me to -publish my notes, The Gospel Truth, Notes of an African American on the Run - A Black Man’s Guide to Europe and the rest of the world.   

      My book details what I now affectionately call the “inner” journey to a deeper understanding of the collective SELF, and reminds us all, that life is our inheritance.    Through my genuine love for writing I have come to embrace the journey we all must make to a new understanding and in doing so reflect “hope” to souls that have been darkened by fear and pain.   Following the release of my book in 2005, I began the Black Angelfish Network in Amsterdam, NL. 

The mission of the Black Angelfish website is to provide a place for like-minded souls to come together and exchange ideas and opinions, that will encourage and inspire others to go deeper beyond traditional borders to extracting the gold that is  within us all. 

Peace,

Blackangelfish