I Am Keith Anthony James

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I am Keith Anthony James lll. A lover of Jesus Christ, a self-proclaimed activist, philosopher, poet, disciple, and clergyman. Life is short, and the irreducible common denominator of all men is death. At death’s door stands Jesus. How I live my life now depends on how that conversation goes. I want to hear, “Well done good and faithful servant! I will put you in charge of many things, come and share your Master’s happiness.” (Matthew 25:23) Eternity is perennial… wouldn’t you agree? Jesus Christ changed the world at 33— I have some work to do.
I avow self-proclaimed because the papers that I will procure are latent, but one-day respect will be put on my name. As a 19-year-old African-American in America I would say I am on a first class
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As I am faced with all the questions of my pious affiliation, I just laugh and say, “Eternity is a long time”. The Big Easy— New Orleans, Louisiana is where I am indigenous to. I was blessed in my upbringing and what the Lord has provided for me. I was torn in the middle, a bridge separated me from hoods and suburbs. On one side air was toxic and stunned my growth, and the other side was the antithesis of that. The bridge separated me from drinking water from the sink, and ice water from a fridge. So I was double dipping and my life wasn’t measured in lifespans, but in moments. My reclusive life personified one of Shakespeare lines, for the sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
I was nomadic with school. The teachers never entertained me as much doing secular things did. I found relish in secular things, the bad things were good and the good were bad. As a child, I never hoped for anything— I was a pessimistic existentialist— I lost sight of my future. My flesh stood tall like Goliath and my soul waited for the right moment to prevail like David. I was a walking zombie and I was bound by my ignorance. Everything seemed perpetual and I being to conjure my own existence. As I look back at it now, I lived in death’s shadow and my psychiatrist was the devil. The more I grew the more I sought to retain everything I learned. If one forgets anything it means you have died, and
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