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Monthly Archives: March 2012
If eternities can be seen with these same eyes
Knowledge of this active living
It would be seen
the trips we have met
each life time our paths crossing
heart beats heard in tandem
days of souls meshed
nights of desire
heated in passion, fire
dreams realized over infinite scopes of time
in the active history
not found reason
lost lips relentless
in the heart of exceptional minds
dated, chronicled the words
in elevated suspension
It’s heaven’s door
in the living lifetime
for one to see it in the others of another
can call it love
drug induced rantings of minds gone
is what is said
yet did those men lie in beds
marked by nothing known to the commonality
of the immensity of redemption
simple, definitive or more true
earth defied and constantly applied
are these things
each create miracles, tap down beats and then sing
the part so intricate to the action of life
pumping this delicate warming liquid disinfectant
the blood is the cure
when untouched by hate
the bait of those that kill
no less real
than the fact that love is what heals
It blossoms by the dark of night and shines and changes things
in the purity of light
It fights, it feeds,
merges to create new seeds
Again the cycle goes
another creation, a new part
in the art
you find the tune
given by these catalyst of original thought
each saying the same
each tell the play that wins the game
yet deaf we are to the calls
that resounds through the dank and open skies
left to minds asking the hows the whys
just to defy the heart
that is speaking, healing, thriving
never does it survive instead it just dies
If these eyes could see the life in which we lived before
maybe I would trust you more
be consistent in my truth
for no fear would penetrate the silence so loudly
no body entice the desire so profoundly
only you or if not
then left empty
yet simply my eyes do not see only my heart
and its a warrior of the army
it’s leader undefeatable, unpenetrable, unkillable, a king
the entity of all beings
sees, holds and plays all the cards
not for return or profit
if in those lifetimes the half of this whole is behind those eyes
it can be a thousand days without you
a thousand others you choose
for you would still be incomplete
a feeling of lost still nipping at f your need
for it would be the pain you feel
that makes it feel real
not that unexplained
connection, undeliberate affection
or detection of a life renewed
no trial, no search for truth
my truth already seen, no need to seek what is found
our ashes to ashes, our dust to dust
this lifetime it seems may be harder than the others lived
for at first sight I new in this life you lived
the signs were loud bold and unable to be hid
no true memory of you did
the thing needed to be done
yet on sight the activation had started
So God bless…
To those others that we dearly
and sincerely loved yet still departed
To love across the scopes of time
no reason true
no rhyme defined
unless the belief is true….. LOVE DOES NOT EXIST
Beyond reasonable doubt
that love exist by means of probable cause and testimony
penalty of perjury
the united decision of the jury,
an objective party of peers
that it does indeed exist
So let us all raise hands that now sits on laps, hangs at sides
to display balled fist
to what can not be defined, but clearly seen
Hey Ladies and Gents, fellow artists, friends, families, followers, and all Spiritual and Religious peoples, for the strangers… hello to you as well…. to children, teens and adults alike and for those I have forgotten… its only because I can not recall any other group at this point for people are people and what we all have in common is something like the blog listed above. We are a community of human beings from coast to coast, city to city, like and so for the entiriety of the oxygen breathing kind. We breathe in simialar ways and bleed red on top on and blue with the casing of our forms.
I wanted to just make a comment and I could not find it on the actual page so the next best option was to do what God has intended, the universe, Allah or by whatever name you should call the deity of being. I agree with this blog and my reason is this…. pain is a negative energy and the negative is the big dog in this purpose. See we have become a society of sharing our flawed aspects with the world instead of accepting and changing and those actions that are filed away behind shame are the ones that we should adhere the love in shame. Love does not seek to deplete or pollute the mind of its recipient. We have the power to create a destination of change for good, for connectivity that allows us the bettering of our world. For the children that we love, for the places and things that create connection in our lives. Not more than a few short weeks ago we were angered and felt controlled by the action of the bill SOPA in which won that small battle and even I didn’t find the right in the wrong yet this blog helped to show me how the ammunition that was used to cause us this pause of our making. The burning desire of greed in our bellies and the wanning readiness to actually admit that some of things that has polluted our access to this beauty identification of technology that we all use in some form. If we would have felt the honor in its importance as well as our own we would not have given them anything to vindicate the opposition. Sex like most things of humanity are natural and known to cause the reactions they do in others and even ourselves. I was told by someone I respect and see as wise that he doesn’t understand how you love someone but want t give them all of your pain and shame and I responded that love is a vulnerability that creates a meaningful safety to express and explore those things that we don’t like in ourselves. Those flawed aspects of who we are make up the whole coupled with the things we flaunt in admiration of ourselves and when he states his next few words I decided to change my mind about this one thing. I will share who I am and how I got there yet I will not live in those moments and with the return of love in its equation I will not wallow in the negative of action, but battle it by change or commitment to the control of self. If you must lower the value and watch over the shoulder to partake then make sure you don’t share that with the world unless you just want to make your flaws their own. I let u choose your bad and not being judgemntal means respecting that person and their choices. I believe in the model of you like it I love it unless it hurts you or me but if you will be offended by mine you shall never be shown that without the request to begin…
Say yes for pg 13 on public sites and even I love a porno or two but not at the expense of discomfort to anyone else. RAGE on and be a Super Star for Love.
This has been a duality for the Humanity public service announcement. Live ON my nation of revived revolutionary FOLK.
As a woman I live in an understanding of my emotional culture. With each documented moment I live binding a library of books of my experiences. Something I find on my journey are moments of interaction with men in my community some of them from homes broken and others from families assembled by time and others in the traditional make up. The black man has been the consequence of negativity and forlorn thought. The black man is an elusive entity of strength and as the community of my peers evolve from young men to men it’s most powerful era I look at the elegance of transistion and the opposition of being a legacy of decisions that maybe the men before them took. I am a woman and I like other little black girls were left to become women without the presence of a man in the home. Yet as God provides me the gift of his love he has shown me the new understanding of the black man who has shed the heavy coat of prejudice and the cotton of a too hot life when trying to get to a moderately comfortable temperature in there atmosphere of being the man on the outside of privilege. These arriving men whom I have named arriving because through the storms of history and disrespect and the lack of support These men truly need they still come through those foggy moments hoping and trying their best. They even arrive to the storms of us loud talking, strong willed, fatherless and fathered mess of understanding women.. Yet as a woman sometimes loving that man who needs so much love is hard but see him as arriving.. Why? Today I hear more men say… I have full custody of my baby… insert son and alot more in my world insert daughter. They breathe for these children, facing the disappointment of being not enough or not having enough in the dank aftermath of heated summers of no lemonade stands and no baseball games on shoulders of that elder likeness and those of us who live amongst the on the streets of father non-applicable to me… cuz I don’t know my daddy we know the pain of being apart of a single parent home and feel the strain of traits not owned by mommy. We are the generation of change and we are changing our outlook and we are fighting loudly with the access of technology,,,, I am proud of us regardless of these colored skin suits. And I know in the colonies of different hues lives homes broken and children hearts broken by the choices of those who are our key to lifetimes of lifelines that teach us how we think, and live and celebrate life.
SO it’s for the man arriving in your world as well, those colored life coffee, deep and brown those with layered choices with skin so bright and illuminating, those have culture built in this soil, their heritage with their land stolen… so do not be left out. Yet my fondness for these men made so much like me with deep brown skin, shadowed eyes and hearts of solid beaming gold left hidden with cavities of teflon. My little boys who have taken the stereotypes and made them enterprises, took the grid irons and concrete courts from games to headlines and fame. Those growing boys turned men with need to fight and survive instead of drive and arrive are still beating down the hot block with hearts that want to be home, want to know those kids even when they laid down to be incarcerated by women who still have the learned lesson that men leave… don’t believe, don’t grieve, left to live with pain than to have it eased. SO many days they sit with breaths caught in chest hoping to slang enough, dunk enough, take enough to be the present father and not just the donor who fertilized a egg with his seed.
Yes I want you to be the best man you can be, yet I also see the struggle and desire to aid you in knowing your worth and those small things also mean something. The desire, the attempt, the faith, the hope, the strength and the experience you both show, and provide bleed your love. As women we can nurture those strengths. Your power is in the love you feel, the meal you cook to quell the hunger, the sex you indulge in to show him the importance and need to not just your heart but your body. The love they so seldom vocalize but will always show in their resounding baritone as they ask where we have been, if the oil has been checked, how they will walk on the outside, and do their best to apply what they have never learned but know in their hearts is right. Just the fight to live will show how much many desire to not be the stagnant typed without the stereo for its never displayed how much it hurts to have to say, not applicable and does not apply when it comes to the language we can’t identify whether it be fatherly or motherly love. This community of strength taught to survive… we need to learn how to thrive, be our own resource of love… Move away from the belief that we must be the dog that dined on the dog of circumstance. Must unite if you want to fight and win.
A generation passed full of daddy’s rolling by home home to collect stones they were made to believed were jewels…NO HOME IS WITHOUT IT”S STRUGGLE… and no parent meant to create and mold life alone. These men are a special breed, descendents of man made Achilles heels, robbed of identity, used as common artillery, bred to do the work of building empires of which they could not call home and while slavery had died on the dark hot tar we call pavement… it has already been paved and if not actively fought will remain submerged in hate.
No this is not about slavery for we are each free. wanting to make a loud noise in the sake of revolution to be another block of words strung together about being the victim looking on to the inside with too much fear, too much pride and just enough anger to be forced to grow. I am a woman among many women with matching skin id’s and similar history, The women who love these black men, lets us the be their place of love make his house his home so he leave behind his spot, his crib , make our homes kingdoms. Not with things but with those jewels of love… we call them support, trust, forgiveness, loyalty, kindness, tolerance and self control. Let us use our action of physical love with fortitude and and be the woman who sees his heart and chooses it above all. Yes we women have pains and hurts, yet me make the time whether right or wrong to sing our song, some constant singing his wrongs. Each replay comes with a fine of his worth, and time for he sees your pain and despite what all continue to think… a man in love with a woman in love with him… is not afraid to speak freely when she wears her priceless jewels daily and shows him the ultimate jewel is him.
… why do you think these men stay with you even when love didn’t build that home. Even as your belittle his masculinity instead of just telling him your pain. Why do you think they are not so quick to divulge in (sorry about my language) sharing the true power of his magic wand , his sword you’re so quick to use in a scheme to shut you down.. ONce it’s been offered you no longer hold the cards… he already has part of your heart. In no way am I taking away the power of a woman, a black woman who might look something like me…
I know your pain, I know your need… and part of our want is based on that man you desire… so open your eyes and see him arriving and love him gently. Promote his power in your world, Provide a safe place for his emotional vulnerability so he may use it has the secret weapons to slay his enemies and practice love in your words, needs, and actions… Show him that even know love has its flaws and you certainly don’t take lies, abuse, or negativity. Just do it the way love would.
For the world in which he lives and struggles to be seen as a equal… befriend him… he is a man just as you… regardless of the clothes he wears, his choice of song, his difference in opinion. He is like you really the only difference is his flavor. Regardless he is arriving, from shallow graves of mis conception, perception , and infectious outbreaks of humanity and their ignorant thinking.
My father died when I was nine years old and the day we learned of his death A voice inside my head said your daddy is gone, he is dead and not in a tone that makes you feel comfort and acceptance. These people who pour there hearts and souls into these works of passion. I have ignored me for a long time and it was because I was scared and I wasn’t able to just have a little faith and the faith has come and now the work must be completed because i have a show to put on.
I sometimes have wondered where my talent and overwhelming emotion comes from. I found something in the midst of pictures that i am working to put into a book for my mother. For my mother I found my father/ I have felt him moving with me as I have been on this journey within and while most journey’s we are happy to see the end in, some we fear ending wanting to stay nestled in the cool comfortable confines of discovery but discovery has to move on. It has to hit the application stage or the lesson is in vain. I have learned that I am nothing more than the mule, the employed messenger and as the team leader in my camp over here I must be aware of the responsibility. I might not have cared about failing in the past but I care so much today. I have tired of running, their is no success without trying and I can’t talk about being brave and being courageous and being a fan of fortitude I have decided to be not just a fan but an example of it.
That’s my dad and that lil bity cutie is me. My dad was fool of heat and his soul is near helping me to do what he could not do. There is a letter in my little collage there… it was in his final newletter at his funeral and I read it for the first time just a couple days ago. My father had a way with words. I think it was the first time I realized that i am part him and the love I feel for him and the pain that comes in not having him here also built me with great empathy with great emotional understanding. I love words and so did my daddy. Yet my daddy died not knowing how much I loved him because I was not able to tell him and my whole life I have run from all that made me feel truly good… I will not able to complete my first true work without facing my fears… this is step one… facing my fear of seeing…. Exposed…….
To be inspired is something that runs beyond the moment of being inspired but the beauty in the work or the action. I have heard that the greatest of success is not in the wins, the victories or even in the acclaim or recognition. It’s in the beauty of the power that loving something so much can emanate the type of personal interest in doing that you touch the heart of someone else to move, to try, to risk. The possibility in greatness is a value of love not ability or worthiness for so many great people worthy of award, of change of second chances lost the game. The game of living is cold, harsh with policy unknown to us. We have gifts, talents, that a lot of us don’t use do to fear, circumstance or even just like of belief in the power of the gift given.
To lose belief in anything is tragic and worthy of streaming tears yet to lose belief in your own gift, your own power is the thing that settles in the belly of your spirit. At the other end to revive belief in the belly of a gift lives the trust in it, the hope for it and the need for it to breathe to live,to grow and to show your stuff. A little bravado is not ego, and is needed. The beauty in having that bravado means that you are courageous and have the guts to make a change, to stand outside the normality of conforming and really really finding the fight you need to truly finish the road that you must finish,
All the mediums of creativity in this New World calls for different tribes of warriors to do the work of good, to promote the messages of humanity. In finding the journey to courage we must be open to change, to experience, to failure and to the unexplainable. To be inspired to find true and give true inspiration you must be available for the miracle that it is. To allow the rush of cool to tickle your skin and hear your heart begin a thump of thunder that resounds echos in the tunnels of your ears and you are motivated, rejuvenated, you are emancipated… you feel as tho the shackles that bound you to your fears, to your deprivation of thought; of action; have been shaken loose. Leaving you pink with desire, the fire burning so deep within you it glows touching the very essence of your soul. When the soul illuminates it’s shine will allow light to seep in to those dark places that ricochet that light in to strangers and you know it’s at that moment that greatness has begun. That kind of beauty only comes from the bravery of love. That love that closes doors late into the night hiding kisses wicked with lust, adoration and respect is so very parallel to the love of your belief your goals and your dreams. For to desire to do one thing with your life is a true love affair that does not know wrong doings, or keep account of disappointments and strives on nothing more than hope, and honesty. As I speak of endlessly an artist is a thing of passion a progress of commitment and bears the heavy beauty of exclusivity and monogamy.
I fell in love a long time ago before my first sentence was completed before my heart was broken before I lost my belief in the beauty of bread being healthy. I feel in love with feeling the edges and centers of white college ruled paper and using colored pens with inks they fill the rainbow with thousands of strokes and before words were a reality I just waved it until it began to make a pattern of the vibrations i could not articulate on these rough edged tablets of my thoughts. I knew what it was and how it worked but I had not found the way to do so. Then I was writing and it was the most love I had shown to anything and as a woman beginning I was ahead of the game yet so sure of my desire to dirty those little white sheets of heaven. As years passed I began the descent of the humanity of dreams… The human understanding of child like beliefs. That adults do and children dream. My pen became a hobby but the law was the lucky answer opposite doc in primary school and I accumulated to the likes of the group instead of the fire in me. Like most of those in tis world who create they experience and my experience caused me lose belief in the power of individuality and I just wanted to be accepted and it was weird unatural to want to write in the 2nd grade and I traded it for whatever felt best the second time around if dreams really never became more than day dreams. I still see myself in those part time suits litigating for the unprotected and saving souls and lives. It really is a cop out for still being afraid of nobody liking the things I write, of not completing the work that I wanted to finish but believing in myself. Things got better with help of friends reading and then loving it and of course believing the hype is kind of hard when they all love you anyway but there was a nay sayer of me that became a affirmative definite and concrete believer of my words. He was not my friend and definitely didn’t have accolades of me personally yet one night as he laid in the bed next to my roommate with her heart running circles around his aloof relationship behavior I began to rant of their “Situation” and the end of the foggy tunnel that seemed to engulf me he said words that will stick close to my idea of perfection in confirmation left me wondering thinking if talent was not objective or subjective in totality yet a lot perceived emotion. This has nothing to do with what I really want to say what I really want to express. Yet to explain where it began is apart of the power of what I do want to reveal.
…….I have been inspired and moved to believe in the power of that love affair with my words with the emotion behind them. I have always been a words girl, always been about the books the cover o cover the path of turning pages and being impressed and moved by the settings described with description. To be just shown as with film and the way it within the reader becomes a vision of those words. It is an experience and active. Tv is of the different sort, it is a vision of another’s perception and their discovery and vision. No active partnership. Yet with the premiere of Dawson’s Creek I began to see it differently as JOey and Dawson with great emotional scenes and large and beautifully spoken words it took me in and without fail I watched each episode twice premiere night with great enthusiasm both times. I became a Creek addict and with its ending I shed true tears. It was a transition an acknowledgement of a life changing. No other show evoked my loyalty for many years… My best friend had begun to watch a show and she was hooked and telling me about it. I had seen previews and quick show reminders. Still I didn’t give it chance…. And while I build up to its revealing I will say this before hand. This show has rocked my soul yet my soul had not been awakened not just yet allot of life happened between those beginning days of its run and the present days. For I had begun to watch at the very beginning of a change in me. Yet a woman in transition yet again may not be ready but I watched and enjoyed but never really watched. Yet my slow warming to the inhabitants of Tree Hill, North Carolina was well on the rise in warming my heart. Another alter change for life began and we lost touch me and my new friends. ON returning to life it began its true decision to the very core of me. Then like the moment that ultimately changed my vision my world my heart, it became something else and it was a true place to explore for every single episode that I watch it literally rocked me to tears. The music, the truth, the honest and the reality of life had been given to a place of fire. Not the fire that burns and destroys but the fire that lights and warms. One Tree Hill the little TV Show on the CW had begun a gate of feeling a level of moving minds and should to the understanding of love and love had just met me, just saw me with open eyes and had definitely just begun to embrace me. I had fallen in love and then suddenly that dynamic even in life had allowed me to begin to stop having a fear in so many things. As my lover, my friend began to hold a new mirror clean of my smudged idea of myself to me daily the idea of love for anything once again became a possibility and if you ever had the privilege of watching this show then you can understand. So as in the way of inspiration I have been inspired. After watching the seasons I had missed I fell madly in love as I had with the man who reminded me that life is a living experience that can give you all that is needed to make you see yourself differently through eyes of unconditional love. I am working on something that will in my high hopes of myself be something that has moved the heart in away that is eternal…..