The Depths of HER

The depths of HER

Are endless..

Having no set destination of who she is to become...

It cannot be measured by her failures and successes,

Her tears that She cries nightly or the  smile she displays the next day,

Her struggles that appear deeper than any valley,

Her children's unchanging love,

Her lover's commitment

Her sharp intellect

Her curves, and there are plenty,

cannot begin to describe her existence

Her essence....

Her  purpose...

Complex and peculiar

She is infinite in emotions

For the depths of HER

are endless and cannot be measured by any one thing..

But Will always begins with a prayer.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4

LLY

Idealistically you were meant for me

And together in my own fantasy you were happy there

But realistically you're in my dreams because you weren't meant for me I'm flesh..

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4

Scream Heartache

She screams....

As loud as she can and praying that the hurt will leave her heart quickly and painlessly.

She was vulnerable....again

Never sharing her body she shared more..

Her fears, her worries, her thoughts...her poetry..

And she screams..as tears of realization hit her and she sees that YES its happened again..

Her act of bravery...sticking up for her feelings she found out that

The sun who is she and the moon who is he could not eclipse because his orbit was around another planet...

And she screams...

And prays for her heart to remain soft as it tries to harden to protect itself.

She screams because she blames herself for feeling.....

And because she feels no anger and feels that she should...

The words

The simple kiss

The names of affection....

The conversation....

And only she fell....

As loud as she can she screams to prevent from crying because she can't hold in anymore...

She thought and felt different for once in a long time

And expressed this...

He let her....without saying a word of his truth.....

Vulnerable..she was.....

But still wishes him well....

But can't see the moon for the clouds...

She screams...

Experiencing every moment and feeling in order to tell....

She screams

As loud as she can praying that the hurt will leave her heart quickly and painlessly....

Because she never was in his

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4

Distant dreaming

Dreams of a distant past that I know nothing about attack my mind when I am most at peace.

Challenged, daily, with carrying out the vision at was so methodically planned out , I find myself lost in these dreams.

Not wanting to wake up to a declining society with no purpose or drive, I sleep....

And smile...

And I dream of distant instances when my black was a major offense and then I fall deeper...

Into a slumber where action for solutions came first

Instead of awake complacencies and oblivious dream catchers who know nothing of themselves, let alone their destinys.

As I ball up in the fetal position and get comfortable in my distant dream I soar through acts of unity and mutual understanding....no hesitations

Hoping that these dreams will materialize

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.4

Mother Sun

The Sun....

Creeps over the horizon to slowly illuminate all that she nourishes....

Brilliant rays of intelligence she spreads them far and wide ...

Lightly kissing the skin of all who welcome her warm embrace

And does not block her....

Throughout the day she stays not the same shade but alters through time to allow her fairer children to be enlighten by her essence

That  is absorbed by only being near her for a second..

Knowledge....

And the sun leaves her best wishes with those kisses of well intentions that  bring out the vibrant colors of all her children's skin..

But

Through time..

The mother

The nurturer

Our Sun from the Son....

cannot plant the seeds of knowing without The rain....

The Sun....

As her tired rays' range of reaching grows shorter

She has become less effective on her own

Eclipsed by the moon of disrespect

Now burning her children's skin

Causing cancerous negative behavior to spread far

Replacing  all her good intentions with rebellion and the struggle to fill the space of that rain

Her bright rays flicker...

For without

Rain..

Man..

She cannot plant the proper seeds of knowing....

Alone

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.2

Internal thoughts of a New Generation Sista

I fear for my generation and the ones that follow. I worry that as we get older we will no longer have respect for our historical legends and continue to live in utter oblivion. We won’t care about how the school book got to be in our hands or how we can move through our daily lives so freely. I am afraid. That my great grandfather’s stories and those of his class will be buried with him and his children. His venerable words will be lost on a split tongue and be.poked fun of rather than respected. I am afraid. Though we are not worse than before, we are at a standstill of mental progression because its not cool or the easiest thing to do. Be different. Girls and boys hold no respect for themselves or one another. Adapting the Cash over everything mentality, have we lost ourselves in things? Mindless possessions that can bring temporary satisfactions but when all goes away we have nothing to fall back on but our pampered butts.I am afraid. That as each historical legend passes away there is no one there to take their place to continue to create a history to be proud of. I belong to a generation who only cares for a struggle of its televised or worldwide..but have we forgotten Gil-Scott Heron’s words? A…the Revolution can still occur and need not be televised or glamorous because it should be real and on going…I fear for my generation…my heart bleeds when history is not a demand in our lives. We no longer want to seek future knowledge of our past in order to bring all that was right into our present to fix it. We must fix this. Or be forever lost. Forever searching for meaning and purpose in this life and the answer lies within us. I cry for my generation. I fear for my generation. But I also live for my generation.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.2

Liberate

Liberate her....

The lover who feels freely without inhibitions

But is stopped from performing..

For her land has hurt her

Used her

And discarded her

Liberate her....

And watch her enchanting dance entice and woo her lover to husband

And nurture her children

Liberate her....

The artist that captures her emotions through paint, pictures, and sculptures

But hands are bound by stereotypes and shades of grey ugliness

Fingers pricked by needles of sickness

Inspiration fogged by troubles of survival...

Liberate her...

The intellect that never ceases to educate herself with knowledge that she can fan out to her people

But is closeted by talks of beauty as priority over her mind.

Books closed..not bought and replaced by superficial ideals

Liberate her...

Allow the breeze of self discovery run through her hair

Caress the skin

And be inhaled...

Liberate woman...

Let her LIVE

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.2

Addiction

Images of things that once were...haunt the mind
Creeps down through the shoulders
Into the blood stream
Straight to the heart
no tune available to inject into the veins of longing
No book with sad endings to empathize
Gotta numb the pain
The craving
The addiction of remembering
Skin itches for the touch from that supply
Where is the fix
That cures the heart
Flows throw the blood streams
Up the shoulders
And into the mind that temporarily erases those images
Embraces
Words
Images of laughter
that now are deathly screams
Ring loudly
Reminding that there are no smiles here
Gotta numb the pain
The craving
The addiction of remembering
You

TREE RAIN SEEDS

with the wind,

on fresh plowed land, fertile with the seeds of hope, restoration, and freedom

They dance...

Heads bent back palms out and up, those shades of Brown move to songs of evolution and promise...

Their cries of jubilation will be heard through the eardrums of generations to come...

Watch..

And behold the release of knowledge as he dances on and alongside his foundation....

Witness his desire to support their growth..

He bends and sways like the graceful tree

But never cracks..

He provides shade, OXYGEN and the ROOTS for his fertile land that lies underneath his sturdy limbs..

With the SON giving him light and guidance...his fertile land can stretch far and wide...

Into plantations of educated fruits that produce the like....

Behold...

These Brown figures are men..

Now slow the pace...

A sultry rhythm can be heard....

Hips grow wider..

Wombs..ground fertile

Here comes the rain...

Smoothe....

Nurturing rain...

Providing the necessary ingredient to keep the fresh plowed land alive.....

Rains heartbeat beats for all seeds that she waters.

Her soul....

Attached to the ROOTS of that tree....

Giving him life assistance...

Aiding him with maintaining that plantation of abundance....

Watch.

Her soulful moves are the wind...

Rain....

For these brown figures are women....

On fresh plowed land they dance on one accord....

No step is forgotten...

No beat missed....

Free together....they rely on one another for survival....

Watch

Behold....

Witness them disappear into the SON

for guidance....

The tree, his rain, and their seeds...

Witness

Testify

For on this day a family was born

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.2

Old Sara

Crooked back...aged....

Eyes gone bad..teeth narrowed down to tooth..

Yea I know Old Sara..

Sits on her porch..rocking in her chair.. smile on her face..tooth exposed...

One tear down her right cheek...

Yea I know Old Sara..

Say she is over 102..

And she lived through times greater than me

...rocking in her chair..smile on her face ....tooth exposed

One tear down her right cheek...

Yea I know Old Sara..

No one dare speak to her...

Something must be wrong with this old woman..

Crooked back...aged....and still smiling....

Each wrinkle well earned...deserved...

Say she used to be beautiful....Old Sara....

Thick hair as long as it can get...

Look now..

Old Sara...I know her...

Same hair thick as cloth...silver by knowledge...

Look there now....At Old Sara...

She beckons all to draw near...

I know old Sara....

But not of her words.....

Say she doesn't speak much....so I lean in to hear...

One word is all she says....and leans back..rocking in her chair...smile on her face...tooth exposed....

One tear down her right cheek....

Yea I know Old Sara...

Old Sara is ...

History

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.2

The Smell Life

This smell is familiar to me...

Of morning hopes intoxicating fragrance lingering in my air..

Reminding me that yesterdays stench was only a test.....

I passed....

This smell is familiar to me......

Fresh rain falling, caressing her lover...

Encouraging him to grow and provide the grounds for their seeds to flourish...

Love....

This smell, yes, is familiar to me.....

It is smell of rotten flesh....

For Dead is the  people who cease to progress..cease to evolve...to learn..

I cry...

Eyes closed I breathe in all that I smell...

Strengthening my lungs...my soul....my mind

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.2