It is about me looking perceptively through my eyes at the world turning written as journal entries from my diaries of a black man. This is part zero with of course "Diary of a Black Man: Tri Ba and Geometry" as part one. It's just me while traveling across the world. Peace and goodwill.

Last remains of my poetry since i was kid, through the military and up unto now. I will never stop writing but these are most personal with mistakes and without to be shared as an experience of what still goes down behind the human walls of me being a Black Man to include experiences from other brothaz and sistahz too. Writing yourself out of poetry without putting out a biography is sometime the quickest way to relieve pressure. I follow no rules when it is personal as this as my true feelings just comes out like an deep exhale long long overdue. May my words be of depth of experience to the...

I hate her sincerely cause she hate me dearly on sights let's duel and keep the violence fueled cause you started it when I was real about freedom and peace but you insisted on imprisonment and me being deceased in fear perceptively so I figured this is dedicated to you truly as your cliques are obviously yours of everyone and everyway I got foes on all sides and I will not fall for no one so you and you die...keep riding on me like I'm a toy and keep depositing into my heart hatred and you will received these dividends quarterly or maybe monthly or maybe yearly as the return on investment...

I find a home, grow a little bit, then home evicts me, reasons are known, me is bold, they say go, oh no you cannot, i am not elegant, neither are you, the world thrills me, she is fine with cute, he is sugar to be dilute, fill me up flavor now, won my suggestion, guzzled the digestion, watched progression, settled in no aggression, yet trouble finds me, no you cannot stay, and like dog... i roam all alone, eyes forward, while peripheral, again another experience, the path chosen, within me seek, to grow further, as seed of the unknown.

This is the last part of my diaries seriously...i could not write an autobiography as the memories are too much to bear so i gave the minimum and threw out the rest where it belongs. I'm smiting the past with exploring arts like i use to starting with literary arts then i am moving my way across the canvass to do performing arts as well as visual. Now, math and science books are a challenge for me and not in a hard way but to see if i can truly work all by myself. That's right I said it all by myself. Lots of laugh...in the last part of my diary explains how i came up with a method to build...

These are letters to Venus I write to her and quotes.