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In the void September 27, 2007

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There is a place for the void –

the space where the magic of birth happens,

the conceived mystery that transforms

slowly,

surely,

into the light-view of

the cross road to the known

 

Calling quietly,

darkness threatens the unprepared –

conjuring fear to do its predictable work

Yet, in the mind of

the initiated voyagers

whose eyes have seen

life in its puzzled blur,

trustingly awaits for sunlight

as a sign to move towards the Falconer

 

In this void,

this Spirit appointed teacher

of the virtues of patience

and sacrifice,

holds the hails of

the playful coyote,

the watch-dog of gods

as they gaze to know

if you trust them.

 

Humbled I am to trust them,

I thank the void as

I leap and

Conquer my fears

As I move past them

 

Yes in this void,

I  see…

Other Minded September 17, 2007

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In order to think more clearly,

I have decided to be other minded –

Mother minded,

as another way to describe this other…

 

Actively,

permitting myself to

follow the hidden path

from my heart

to my head –

this path which follows me

(instead of the other way around)

 

Revolutions of earth spins

will show if this otherness

Actually

grounds to motherness –

the only thing I seek,

my true story unfolding.

AIDS September 15, 2007

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Acquired.

Immuno.

Deficiency.

Syndrome

The number one killer – the silent war within. The not so silent gaps once filled by human faces and stories that woke up groggily at 6am, complained about high gas prices, circulated e-mail forwards for good luck and bumped past you on the street in a sometimes unwelcomed confrontation of souls.

One by one,

These gaps where they once stood, sat, shat, spat..lay empty for a mournful moment to be acknowledged that they were acquired by a syndrome whose singular goal was to deficiently inspire immunity to all that’s wrong for the body.

And this story,

Whose origin and

vicious acquisition

pre-dates HIV

and post-dates any

drug to be discovered

and marketed to an already drugged up and bankrupt population suffering from this syndrome whose only mission is to defy and convince the body that lies are truths and wrongs are right.

This story

that leaves US caught in headlights, and like the deer, unable to move because fright won the fight over proper response to

Terrorism.

Racism.

Sexism.

We live in a world of skewed schisms fractionalizing wholeness to the uninitiated, bump-and-grind drum sounds of fear inspired madness.

There is no mystery

to this incessant

and illogical

existence

that continues to acquire deficiency, and reproduces more deficiency and irregularities as the mass of indigenes (now called citizens)are numb to the mathematical error that is our lives.

We got the Cuban 5

the Jena 6

the San Francisco 8

Prisons over-populated with black and brown bodies, Women acquiring black and blue bruises in 15 second increments, Children forced to be participantsof the 1-in-4-get-raped game

And yet,

Still,

We don’t even know our names!

and rapidly loosing interest

in finding out.

But time is running out. Ironically, the universe still keeps proper count –

Earth quakes and shifts off

her axis to rifts of

household names like

Katrina and Rita…

And this poem ain’t no word play

just for literal wit or recognition –

for there is no genius greater than the genius of Us when we begin to see

and act based on sight – connect the dots to dis-ease is all I’m saying…

No

more

Acquired.

Immuno.

Deficiency.

Syndrome

is what I’m praying.

Eclipse of Terror September 12, 2007

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We are

successfully

terrorized.

The war is won.

The sun has

eclipsed on

Past glorious days

when We

knew Ourselves

fearlessly.

 

Now,

We cower

from trauma

imposed by CoIntelPro –

We stoop

to tremendous feats

of living unlivable lives.

We struggle

to struggle.

 

We –

Descendants of revolutions

of increasing diluted glory

We fight

To remember that

We exist on

a battlefield.

So while we’re down

for the count

with the ancestral referees’

decreasing numerical

motivation to urge

Us to move

With every earth-shifting

Tsunami

Earthquake

Suicide bomb.

 

We are urged

to awaken

from the fear inspired

madness

that has Us

craving medications

to numb

the feelings of

incompleteness accrued

from centuries

of compliance to disobedience.

 

Dependent on illusions,

We re-colonize

strategically with

the master’s tools,

(and mindset)

digging our own graves

fooling no one but Ourselves.

Insane we must be!

Yet still,

In the medicine cabinet

the only drug untouched –

the antidote to freedom

collects dust

due to the witchcraft

that has Us

trembling

at work and sacrifice.

 

Yes, we are terrorized.

Defeated but not exterminated.

Slowly

We re-awaken from

Our conquered slumber.

 

Remember:

 

Eclipses

are only temporary victories –

for the sun shines

unapologetically ever after.

 

The Warfare in You September 8, 2007

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What have we lost,

What have we gained,

Is it a trade off

If now we’re insane?

 

To have shiny things

At the price our names,

To be still in bondage

With no one to blame

 

We’re stuck in the mud,

Our feet trapped by thoughts

Participants in oppression

Of the have and have nots

 

There’s blood on all hands

So be careful but true

Realize what the fight is —

It’s the warfare in you

 

It’s the choices we make,

The moves we take,

All movement isn’t action,

So choose your own fate

 

Don’t call on revolution,

Unless you’re prepared

To face your own demons

‘Cause now all is shared

 

There’s blood on all hands

So be careful but true

Realize what the fight is —

It’s the warfare in you

Eh Woh! September 5, 2007

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Eh woh!

 

I’m tired of feeling like I’m all alone out here –

Hand stretched out yet set on goal.

Don’t want to be alone if I don’t have to be

but seeing what I’ve seen,

Knowing what I’ve known,

Crowning my throne

Polishing my choke hold so I can see it in the darkness –

Like the North Star shinning on

Mama Harriet in bondage

so she could see these unknown knowns which I now know too…

 

But I’m tired of being alone.

 

Heart open waiting for

my king to sit on his throne next to me

Heart open waiting for connections

that surpass momentary errections –

but don’t be mistaken we be having some love making:

 

No faking

No fronting

Confronting this something

That ‘nothing’

we’ll talk about it.

Train our visions to quest for more than the ordinary

We be living revolutionary:

Planting,

Building,

Refusing these deluding neo-colonial tools

set to keep us apart

so we build sustainable villages around our hearts

in order to protect against these impositions

on what proper relations

between a Queen

and her King

need to look like and feel like.

 

So, I wait.

Lips puckered up,

Fists raised up,

Spirits interlocked –

 

We be

poster children

for what post 2012 love

could be and

will be.

 

And so I wait,

hand stretched out I wait…

And so I wait,

hand stretched out I wait.

Not for Breathe Alone August 30, 2007

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Visitations of irritation

Resurface as I

Realize that who I am

And what I’m perceived to be

Are not the same.

Without deception of imposed definition,

I reaffirm that this oppression thing is getting old.

 

As long as Scooter Libby

is a hero for taking one for the team

and Imus is still just expressing himself

I know the story is still the same.

No matter how many places I journey

Higher and higher into my power,

These visitations irritate to humble me to remember

Who I work for and

What I’m here for.

And this knowledge of Self –

Blossoming like spring is supposed to,

Glows so others can see

that the story’s still the same.

 

It hasn’t changed since chain gangs

Or when Malcolm was killed.

It hasn’t shifted from the reality

of the mentality that thought it was

right to snuff Emit Till.

Yes,

Some things have shifted in semantic

Rhetoric to delude

The prime time viewer

Who didn’t see Revolution coming

Because it was called by a different name: enterprise, new world,

Independence , democracy, commerce and a host of other pretty sounding capitalistic words

That don’t look like the televised picketing and suicide bombing

of angry black and brown people

No, this revolution (the only one we’ve seen in the past 500 years)

was not televised because

It started before there was even television.

This world order that declared war on existence

Callling up down,

right wrong,

War peace,

And peace – some phrase for the dead,

or for those in escapist meditation in places like Santa Fe

either ways to be ignored

By the consumer nation waiting for the next

Product that seals their fate in indentured

Servitude to the Empire,

Or Corporation.-

While talking heads talk about

The word Nigga and Bitch

to wag the dog eat dog of

entranced zombified citizens

that think their will is free

because they bought it on ebay.

 

This order that disorganized and disrupted all other

Orders by calling them sinful and evil, and convincing them this was true,

Replacing ceremony with lesson plans whose curriculum

Consisted of classes like “Self Inflict Nonsense 101”

And weekly Sunday workshop seminars like

“How to Seek Truth EVERYWHERE But Inside Yourself”

Drums snatched,

lips smacked when speaking mother tongues,

Sons forced to be mother fuckers –

Raping and invading the womb that brought them into

This world just for the overseers’ pleasure.

 

So when inner city homicide rise high or

when domestic violence occurs more frequently than high school graduations

They are rarely measured by the standards

Set on plantations,

Or reservations,

And are left to be judged in the federal court of injustice

With a jury filled with allies co-conspiring

To keep the tried and tested concept of slavery alive,

Except now it’s called prison.

 

So when I scream bloody murder for the assignation of

my ability to dream and understand it’s language,

it’s message.

when I rant to be understood by more than

those others who also rant

when I call, in ceremony,

Chineke!

And the ancestors that have come before and followed the way,

When I declare that I’m nappy headed and loving it!

I enter this vulnerably visible place of being

Recognized by the white house revolutionaries

That enjoy that I’m scared of the word fight

Because they taught me to equate it to violence

And they celebrate that I’m petrified of my struggle

For they helped me to believe that my silence would keep me alive

 

But I live not for breathe alone,

And I learn not for words alone,

I AM and that is my throne.

Women Like Me August 29, 2007

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Women like me are studied

for published “scientific” research

and termed

over-sexed

over-stuffed,

volatile,

unintellectual by default of gender

yet too melanated to be considered

women

we are…women

…of color.

Women like me

are conditioned to hate

women like me.

Women like me let this hate

penetrate to levels deep

in the camouflaged psychie

so we wear make up, not cover up

processed, not colonized

relaxed.

So relaxed that women like me

have relapsed into a

comatoz amnesia that has women like me

zoned out,

shot up

and glazed over

Depressed because we’re repressing

not accepting that when
women like me

are trapped

none others can be free

Women like me

end up on TV in

new age menstral shows that

showcase our feminity as commodity

and help create new generations

of half women

disinterested in learning how to be

whole.

Women like me forget

we are also women like

Souljourner,

Frida,

Harriet,

Sonia,

Angela,

Nikki,

Assata.

FYI August 28, 2007

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FYI – keep you eyes on the rise

First our oil then our rice…

Feeding infantile minds what they like

With these phony discounts at the “lowest price”

Imagine this!

Oil prizes sky rocketing –

Greedy green slacks keep pocketing

Zombies in thoughtless body traffiking

because we got to go work.

Or just get around

in this enlarged dog pound

Instead of small towns,

We transit suburb to downtown

And back around to this place

of frustrated dissatisfaction

But still not enough to disconnect to action

Cellphones money makers

with a million ways to take us

for a ride to the bank

emptying lent-filled pockets and with not thanks

but

We bend over and just take it

If we were cake, we’d be baking

burnt out, our minds aroused

just coming out of a slumber

finally we heard the thunder

So act, but don’t react

Soldiers just take the pact!

Discuss but with no fuss

Just trust that Spirit got us.

I pass this on as a reminder,

just like the Whales in the Whale Rider

coming to the shores so we can’t ignore

So as the gas prices sore

I ask what are we waiting for?

Journey Woman 8/18/2005

Freedom is Choice August 27, 2007

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Choose your change or your change will choose you. This is the way of the world and the winds that come through it. False choice. Lack of choice. Passive indecisions…this is the only true crime that continues to de-stablise most leftist ideologies and mobilizations. Left of what? West to whom? Living on a ball of our collective ancestry choosing to identify with politics because that’s where the pulse is. True or false, right or left, crime it is. The confused lingo that’s left us lefting and righting what is always wrong…defining “revolution” primarily to fit marketing strategies for commercial gain so choice becomes vague and blurry: easy seduction to fall prey to this true crime. “Time alone, oh time will tell,” but long before days of high lyrical content of Robert Nesta, infested investors of blurring the one thing that is truly free helps enforce the rest of the statement, “you think your in heaven but you’re living in hell.”

Aware of the living dead stories of

slavery,

colonialism,

neo-colonialism,

MacCarthy-ism,

J.Edgar Hoover-ism (i.e. CoIntelPro),

global corporate rule,

war (in Iraq and so many other places past and present),

neo-fascisim (i.e. Patriot Act I and II),

global climate change,

earth shifts,

ancient prophecies

Aware of the warnings for us to change NOW…to choose NOW. To be and live like we know how.

Taking all these into a count, I humbly affirm that it is our collective choice to not utilize life in it’s fullest glory is just that: a choice. For this we continue to suffer. This is the way of the world and the winds that come through it.

Freedom exists no other place than in choice. All other assertions of liberty are false…especially in the severe bondage of intagible conception of capitalism and it’s seeds of captivity that have led to tangible psychological warfare manifesting in the bombardment of nagging sound bites, prisons industrialized, poor health care, no health care, underfunded education programs, etc.

We’re in bad shape.

We choose each day and freely do so to support the things that are assumed to be the poison of our existence. This is the way of the world and the winds that come through it.

Journey Woman 8/27/2007