SEASON FINALE: Season 1 of the #3CupsOfJoe Show has come to an epic end! My incredible Suriname family made this episode extra special for me!
What does Peace, LOVE, & Understanding mean to you? There are no wrong answers … only questions we haven’t asked.
My Motto: Do what you LOVE and nothing else.
My Message: #3CupsOfJoe … Peace. LOVE. Understanding.
If you like my vibe, please SUBSCRIBE to the GottaLoveKirby YouTube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLofiSU77ApA67Bhc3ggDeP2KqjZ0P9aX0
Do what you LOVE and nothing else.
#3CupsOfJoe … Peace. LOVE. Understanding.
The Wolf that Saved the Sheep by Joe Reid Kirby III
Deep in the mist of dark green mountains,
A lone wolf lives up there,
Fur space black and soft as silk,
Though no living organism would dare to touch his hair,
Thick paws caked with rich mud,
A soul-pulling gaze in his stare,
Two perfect rows of 42 carnivorous teeth,
Complete with two over-sized canines on each rigid jaw to pair,
Constant fog fills the land around him,
Starry skies painted up above,
Though his bellowing night howls may frighten most,
His intentions are anchored on love,
A strange concept he hears the birds sing every morning,
And the same tune the crickets play at night,
This lone wolf has never personally met love,
Yet the idea intrigues his mind of such a sight,
Since his time as a pup,
Abandoned and feared, up to his current height,
Told daily by the neighboring animals that,
“It’s in your heart to kill,”
Followed by, “with such muscle mass you were born to fight,”
Though this beast had never killed anything,
And from his looks alone, he’s never had to have a fight,
Instead, he enjoys laying upon the top of the mountain,
And is only interested in the surrounding dark leafy greens to bite,
One warm night under a brightly lit moon,
The lone wolf heard a strange sound he never did hear …
He raised his head for a while and looked down the mountain,
And read the unusual sounds leaping into his ear,
A storm was brewing over a livestock farm about 40 acres away,
The shepherd had come out in the night to care for his sheep and give them a dry place to stay,
Just as the cool drops of rain began to pour down,
The shepherd had his herd on their way,
He gathered the flock into a large enclosure and called out to them that he’d see them the next day,
The lone wolf caught interest in the cadence of the lambs,
And made his way down the mountain to see,
He saw strange lights,
And the closer he came,
The more intense their brightness came to be,
So he hid in the shadows,
Below the thick branches,
Just waiting to see …
If this was the place …
This had to be the place …
Where this amazing secret called love has to be,
That was until he stuck his nose out,
And received a stinging bite on the head,
“These sheep are for the shepherd to eat,
And I will not have one caught dead!”
The bark of the border collie roared tremendously,
While the shepherd grabbed his 12-gauge and lead,
The door flung open,
From a boot to the wood,
And a warning shot rang out over the shed,
“Get the hell out of here before I make you the next fur hanging over my bed!”
The shepherd cocked it again,
Locked-in to win,
But the lone wolf had long ran off instead,
Back up onto the mountain …
Dazed and confused,
Fresh water still dropping from the sky while licking his wounds,
“Is this why the color of love is red?”
He thought to himself as he watched his reflection wash away in his blood,
“The sheep are for the shepherd to eat …
Is that really what that mutt said?”
These thoughts multiplied themselves,
And lingered on till the lone wolf passed out,
In the early stages of morning he was awakened again though,
But this time by an intense shout,
The lone wolf leaped up from his slumber,
And made his way down the mountain again,
This time more carefully than ever,
Adrenaline and instinct were now his good friend,
He hid his large frame behind the short shed,
From here is where the immense noise came,
He peeked through a patch of broken boards,
And knew he’d never see life the same,
There lay a lamb in a puddle of blood,
Its’ skin cut off into a sheet,
Ready for the shepherd to butcher its meat,
The lone wolf could look no longer,
He felt the world rock under his feet,
He had to say something …
To spread the word,
That the sheep would be something to eat,
He snuck over to the enclosure,
Quietly crept in,
And revealed himself to the sheep,
As fast as he could,
He explained what he should …
That the shepherd would surely kill the sheep,
The flock stared at him at first with fear,
Then nodded their heads with laughter,
“The man who feeds us every day,
Who was born to lead the way,
Is not a killer, he’s our master!”
Before the lone wolf could get out another word though,
Time took a turn to disaster …
The border collie was back,
And leaped on his back,
She was dedicated to his demise,
Through this full-fledged attack,
The lone wolf was forced to plant his 42 teeth deep into the border collies’ leg,
He flung her with little force into a metal rack,
And her bark quickly devolved from a boisterous force to a beg,
Shots fired into the barn,
Cutting out new windows in the shed,
“Your time to live was yesterday …
Today I will have your head!”
The lone wolf leaped out into the open arena,
Planted his paws,
And raised his head …
He howled to the heavens above,
As the shepherd reloaded his lead,
Just as soon as the shepherd cocked back,
The lone wolf released his tune,
The two locked eyes with the sharpness of a knife …
You could scoop the tension with a spoon,
Once the trigger finger gave any sudden sign of a move,
Pure instinct engulfed the black wolf and his sights set solely on the shepherds’ doom,
He seemed to disappear then reappear,
Faster than the ammunition could leave the chamber,
By the time the two locked eye-to-eye again,
They were nose-to-nose and the shepherd was in grave danger,
The large black wolf knocked the gun away,
And pinned the shepherd to the ground,
“Get off of me you mangy mutt!
Release me you hostile hound!”
Yet and still that big black wolf lay on him,
Determined to relieve the shepherd of his crown,
The sheep watched on at their helpless master,
As he complained of his defeat,
And attempted to conjure up a number of reasons for the righteousness in his clever deceit,
The sheep were shocked that they’d followed so blindly,
Invested all of their trust in a savior to keep,
They realized that their intelligence had been tampered with,
And were quite forthcoming to their new belief,
That it’s the shepherd,
Not the lone wolf,
That is out to kill the sheep.
~ Joe Reid Kirby III 9/13/16
My Demise by Joe Reid Kirby III
Dreams of my demise used to shake me up,
But fear has been more frightened of me ever since life decided to wake me up,
A dark room I dwelled in for so long illuminated my mind,
Jail or prison has nothing on this bondage called time,
As these beads of sand rain in this hour glass we live within,
I see so many walking around in life just to pretend,
Never knowing when or where to start their journey before it abruptly ends,
& most don’t make it to find it out because time is all they spend,
Staring at this white wall though I’ve found I have no such time,
I can’t afford to sit around & read every line,
For it’s times like this I feel like a poor man when it comes to time,
& my insecurities & doubts often invite me out to dine,
Watching the hands on the clock won’t make my hands move any faster,
& the numbers I study in numerology won’t protect me from disaster,
I live wrapped up in all I want,
Buried by my desires,
& time slips further & further away as tonight I plan for an early retire,
Lay my head upon this plush bed & dream of my demise,
Only to awake to another day,
Another chance to live, love, laugh, & be the expression of life’s surprise.
~ Joe Reid Kirby III ~ 1/24/13
(Ownership of artwork is unknown.)
P.S. If you like my vibe, please SUBSCRIBE.
© 2017 3CupsOfJoe. All rights reserved.
Thumbs Up! The Power of the Infamous LIKE Button by Joe Reid Kirby III
Whether you’ve witnessed that guy purposely making a complete fool of himself; or the butt-naked girl revealing it all for her followers, one thing is for sure: “likes” are incredibly powerful — and their power only seems to be increasing by the day.
So what will become of this new form of money? It looks as though likes have grown to a similar value as the almighty dollar. Everyone seems to desire a massive amount of likes, almost equal to their lust of monetary gain. So much so, that they’re even willing to exchange their morality for that instant gratification of notifications.
I can recall when the ‘thumbs up’ variation of sign language translated into something as simple as, “that’s cool.” Today though, that same form of innocent symbolism has become synonymous with a wide array of impure inclinations, including, but not limited to: “If I don’t get at least a hundred likes, I’m obviously a failure at life.” “I’d love to tap that, so let me double-tap this.” “How many thumbs does it take to talk to this ultra-popular person I’ve never met & likely never will?” (& my personal favorite …) “Heads down, thumbs up, let’s play WTF!”
No really, what in the world is going on with society? Has our reliance on technology completely deadened the nerve endings connecting our thought-process to our physical actions? Give me a thumbs up, for a “hell yeah!”
On a more serious note, it seems the likes of these likes have been affecting us on a much deeper, psychological level. We’ve grown (or should I say, devolved) to the point of which our confidence in self is anchored upon the gravity of one’s popularity in the social media world. In other words, likes release ample amounts of dopamine into your bloodstream and cause you to feel good about yourself; while the lack thereof, boomerangs an individuals’ insecurities and causes them to think poorly of themselves. While this may be great for the developers profiting off of this ingenious scheme, it could be detrimental to the mental health of these social media site abusers … I mean users.
Is it really the fault of the super-rich, whom create these susceptible ploys, which the unfortunate unconsciously latch onto? I think not. The grand issue hardly ever points to the creators to blame. The problem lies within the consumers; for it is them, and them alone, who’ve too often given overly-inflated value to what the creators create. Don’t like that theory? I’m not very fond of the thumb fetish anyway.
The truth may remind your tastebuds of unsalted leafy greens, but believe me when I say, “it’s good for you!” So open up, because here comes the sane train. Choo, choooo … Choose to gauge your intrinsic worth by means outside of the quantity of likes on your best-out-of-ten-takes selfie. There could be a number of annoying reasons why the nosey ‘friends’ you have little to no association with offline, lazily skipped over your meaningful content; and instead reserved your like for the semi-comical colon or publicly exposed vagina on their timeline. The world may never know.
Seek confirmation of who you are through yourself. No amount of likes is capable of making you any better or worse of a person than you already are. If you’re a good person at heart with only a few likes per post, you’re still a good person. If you’re a human asswipe with thousands of likes per post, you’re still an asswipe. It’s really that simple.
Look at likes, followers, and all of that other cliche’ crap as an adult numbers game: the persons with the highest scores have likely been playing the game a lot longer than you have, or simply have the cheat codes. Behind those seemingly astronomical numbers, you’ll find that your idols are just like you. Human.
On that note, there’s nothing more human than wanting to be somebody, with an important speaking role, on this crowded world stage. That feeling in itself is completely normal … but only if you’re being inspired by it and not consumed by it.
What a shame it would be for you to decide not to inspire one person, all because you’re not yet in the position to influence many. You’re already the main character to someone out there. Isn’t that what it’s all about anyway? Likes will never — emphasis on ever — be greater than LOVE.
© 2017 3CupsOfJoe. All rights reserved.
Don’t Be A Hater All Your Life by Joe Reid Kirby III
Why don’t we support each other more? There’s enough success to go around for everyone. Celebrity gossip; what we tend to think about the super-rich; and the blatant disrespect to the ultra-successful: are things that are often times preconceived, unsupported opinions. It is us hating on the fact that maybe, just maybe, others did what we were unwilling to do; to get to where they obsessively put into their mind they needed to — absolutely had to, be.
We tend to not be able to see the fact that they are people just like you and me; who opened their eyes, with wide vision, and saw that there were no strings attached. These people ran through life at full speed; and never looked back — other than to appreciate their progress. These unique individuals, of the same human flesh and blood, witnessed in awe the spectacle of the waves of the ocean having no end. So they decided to be those waves. The waves that only a select few would be brave enough to ride; and the roll-tide that generations to come would add to and repetitively revive.
Everyone looks at people like Walt Disney, and have only the desire to praise and work for Disney. I, on the other hand, want to learn from that incredible mind, and to eventually be a Disney. Everyone likes to drink or be associated with Coca Cola; but I want to be my own version of John Pemberton, and create my own worldwide brand as he did. Everyone wants to consume or criticize McDonald’s; and it is a goal of mine to create a product or service, as Ray Kroc once did, that will experience perpetual growth, unrivaled. Are my dreams too big? No, stop being a damn hater all your life; your thoughts are just too small. One can’t fathom the vastness of space; neither can they fathom your mind. Nor, could they ever dream of the things you’re capable of pulling out of it; and adding to this physical reality for them to see, taste, smell, feel, and hear. We’re experiencing a different level of being here. Yet, few talk about this alternate, parallel dimension, that a rare number can make out so clear.
Everyone’s more excited about when you get a job building someone else’s dreams — that those dreamers dreamt about daily, and developed into the multi-billion dollar reality you witness before you — than when you decide to pull one of your own stars out of the sky, & showcase it’s brilliance to the world. Isn’t it interesting that when we see super-successful people, that we identify them as stars? Their ability to be a hundred percent their authentic themselves, brings a certain glow to their skin — and the world becomes wooed by it.
And you are special too! Aren’t you? Were you not too one of the 7 billion to win this lottery, known as human life. How incredible you are. Winning a race against billions, to be here; before you even opened your eyes, could strike you as surprising surprise. How great you are.
Dwell in the serenity of your breath. Be happy that you are here to be. And be just that … a human being creative. You are creative — in your own secret way. Why are you hiding yourself from the world? The thought of everyone else knowing how great you actually are would likely leave you naked to the human habitat, right? Is that not how we came in to it? Someone else first put those clothes on you. Though everyone fails to remember that you came out of your mother utter perfection. Your creators couldn’t see any less than perfection in your hair. Your cry could pull at the heartstrings of any ear that caught the signal. The way you smiled was something they wouldn’t dare. You showed too much care. Your love, so unbelievably genuine and unconditional; a mere touch of your fingers would strike joy into the most hateful heart. Pure perfection.
The people had their way with you though. All in your life are guilty of molding your shape to their personal liking. Adding here, and taking away there, came the destruction of your perfection. You were pointed here, there, and everywhere; which resulted in losing your own since of direction. They may have cracked your compass inside; put strange clothes on your back; and given your brain a wash with the wrong kind of soap — some succumb to the scum; but you are not broken. Your perfection is still there.
Your insides tend to jump out of you when you’re alone. When no ones watching, you can dance and sing just fine. The best thoughts didn’t come forth from you, when you were in a classroom; but while you were in the shower, or taking a poop. Walks in nature feed your soul, and dips in water quenches its’ thirst. The balloon is most firm when it’s about to burst. So why were you told that you were cursed?
Just because you weren’t born with wings, doesn’t mean you’re not destined to fly. When the angel of death comes calling your name, it doesn’t mean you have to say goodbye. Your favorite questions as a child used to start and end with “why?” No matter how many times you’d fail, still again, and again; and again, and again; and again, and again; you’d try, and then try.
Not only are you hating on others, but you’re also hating on yourself. You could never be that beautiful; become that smart; or acquire that much wealth — these are the things you tell yourself?
Don’t do this. You shouldn’t do that. Doubtful sayings, from familiar inner voices, constantly replayed and saved in the mind. You should be scared of this. You can’t do that. What does one expect the result to be from hearing these fruitless words all the damn time?
Unless a Being chooses not to listen to the opinions of the haters, that simply wish they could … and present themselves as genuinely as they absolutely positively should … do they ever achieve the nirvana of absolute freedom. Those though whom don’t follow the systems in place, and decide to make their own, are deemed as ‘bad;’ whether happy or sad, & won’t be left alone. Geniuses are locked away in cells, while idiots are free to roam. It’s not until you realize that your domicile is within, will you ever really reach what is home.
Haters live in the hell they’ve built. Lovers only know their heaven. Everybody is allotted twenty-four hours in a day — every week is equal to seven. One can choose to be a hater all their life, and spend all their time on other’s; or, one can be a creator of life, and enjoy their time as fathers and mothers.
#3CupsOfJoe … Peace. LOVE. Understanding.
✔️LIKE ✔️SHARE ✔️COMMENT ✔️SUBSCRIBE
© 2017 3CupsOfJoe. All rights reserved.