• I believe that artists, no matter their specific practice, achieve immortality. Beyond our short lifespans, our art will remain to be perceived and experienced. If we’re lucky, our music, paintings, videos, science, writing, and other passions will become relics of a distant time— testaments to the era we were fortunate enough to be part of. 02’ Til Infinity is my contribution to this concept: the year 2002, in which I was born, extending into the infinite.

    No more gatekeeping art. I have mounds of poetry that only my eyes have seen. This is where that changes. This is where we find forever.

  • Similarly to how musicians release singles before dropping a full album, I will release individual poems from 02’ Til Infinity before dropping the full book. Each poem will be paired with pictures and videos that represent them, adding weight to the words. All of this will be hosted here on my site, so bookmark this page and stay tuned to my socials so I can keep you updated on the drops and you don’t miss anything. Walk this walk with me.

Photographed by Ahk. @iluvahk

POEMS

POEMS

  • Somewhere on the third floor is a museum

    Whose sole living exhibit has been ever changing for 24 years

    There was a renaissance on the porch prior to someone living here

    And inside lives the handiwork of those who brought that renaissance near

    Now, here I am, moseying in undeserving amongst such peers

    Direction carefully steered to not disturb the monument of which I stand within.

    Somewhere on the third floor is an oasis

    My exploration through the concrete jungle brought me to the most captivating of places

    As I turned the corner and introduced my boots to the carpet

    My eyes darted to make sense of the mirage

    I glanced to the right at a pair of harmless snakes

    To my slight left a fish swam freely while stuck in place

    Plants hung from the ceiling and nestled in every corner

    And now, here I am, rejoicing to be warming up away from the Harlem coldness

    Somewhere on the third floor.

Photographed By Lana Rané. @lanaxrene

A Wish of Sorts 

Dear,

I wish there to be no shame in your heartbreak.

Every-time you love I hope you love like you have never been hurt.

Every-time you are hurt I pray it be the last time your heart ever endures pain.

As you endure I beg you know you’ll love again, and again. 

You’ll love stronger and with more guidance. 

You’ll be loved with more passion and more fire. 

You will love with an honesty untainted by the stabbings of your previous liar. 

Do not fall into that dark place where,

You blame the tragedy of your romance on this day and age.

For as long as we have been able to love, love has been the same.

Beautiful in gifted abundance and deathly when you take it away. 

Euphoric in surplus and miserable in a rationed phase. 

No two lovers have ever, or will ever, love each other the same. 

No one love has been perfect, yet it is a perfect love that we all chase. 

And in this snail paced race I say to you, I wish there to be no shame. 

- Rashad

  • I chased them into a dark room.

    One exit, eclipsed by my silhouette.

    “Turn and face me” I requested.

    Then smiled.

    “There’s no where else to run” I reminded.

    Then sat down.

    I know my size had been intimidating until now.

    I had been chasing them for a lifetime.

    And now in the room with them all I stand.

    But they have not turned around.

    I have not touched any.

    No answer, no movement.

    The silence aggravated me.

    No acknowledgement after my effort in this race?

    The passion of my pursuit?

    Finally worthy of standing in the same room.

    Yet none turns to show me that it’s true.

    “Turn or I will force you too” I thought.

    What else is there to prove?

    Ive sprinted in your slip stream.

    Traced your steps into this very room.

    But now as the lights flicker I can’t make out who it is I am talking to.

    I look around, the walls are peeling.

    Wires hang from in between the bulbs in the ceiling.

    All complexions become shadows in these conditions.

    They whom I have chased don’t glimmer like I remember.

    They shined blindingly when further from my vision.

    Now in reach, I don’t think I want to be with them.

    Questioning my decisions.

    Why did I start this race to begin with.

    What did I think I was chasing and where did I think  it was ending.

    Who was chasing me,

    Into this dark room.

    And why did they close the door behind me.

Photographed By Ahk. @iluvahk