Author Archives: Stephen Earley Jordan II
Having the Last Laugh with Roseanne
“Roseanne” brought back these memories–a time and a place where I and my loved ones were deemed lesser than simply due to our Blackness; a time when we were the joke; and a time when it was accepted or ignored due to the lack of vocalization. Continue reading
Exiling Tribesmen Who Possess No Moral Compass
The important item is to understand where exactly you stand on issues and circle yourself with those individuals who will help promote your mental and spiritual well being, not try to damage it. . . Continue reading
Identifying Poverty From Backwoods to Palm Trees
I had peers in high school who didn’t have money for food. Our school lunch program was almost unusually nonexistent. Many classmates begged for leftovers in the lunchroom with a sense of humility. Specifically, I recall classmates asking, “Are you going to eat that?” as they nodded their heads toward leftover pizza crust laying on a sheet of grease-stained wax pape Continue reading
Puerto Rico Relief Fund: Wish List
As Nov 1 approaches, I know that I will be returning to a home with no electricity and limited supplies. I also know that I still would like to help the island as much as possible. Continue reading
Se Levante
Poetry by Stephen Earley Jordan II as a reflection of Hurricane Maria and its aftermath in Puerto Rico. Continue reading
My Hurricane Malady (or “What I’ve Learned About Myself When Silence and Darkness Overwhelm”)
In the midst of the darkness, Loneliness came knocking on my door, unexpectedly, taunting me like an 8th grade bully. The hurricane became my malady and I did not think I could find a cure after loneliness came. Continue reading
3 Unrelated Poems Written During Hurricane Maria
“The wind raped my Basquiat-covered walls. . .” Continue reading
10 Lessons I’ve Learned During My 40 Years
Only invite an exclusive group into your home/life. Not everyone needs to know what you have. We work so hard that unless we built a substantial relationship years ago, it’s difficult to find friends of substance now. And that’s okay–It’s … Continue reading
Crumbled Up (poem and photography)
My sky crumbled up, taking the last breath from my parasitic twin. Silence twisted. Still I grieve you.
King of Shame (poetry + photography)
The King of Shame takes a bow, contempts his whores as nighttime cash-cows. They think he cares, but he abhors those he lays at the seashore on a foul mattress with distressing springs left with a scent and a one-night fling. … Continue reading
