written by Felicia York
i wish i could show you
the parts of me unscarred
i wish i had flesh
unseen by any man before
before before
hurt and pain were introduced
to heart and psyche
i wish i were a gentler woman
that my skin were soft and firm
and succulent like mango
my words actions thoughts
were sweet like splenda
would that make you like me?
i wish
wish i
were your girl
your woman
your soil.
your sun
and moon with stars in our eyes
wish you heard drums beat to the rhythm of my
thighs ass
walking
wish you saw breasts round and hips wide
wish you saw me flawed
yet beautiful
wish you'd see me
as i am and smile
wish you saw me with hands open
arms outstretched
waiting
always waiting
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
Sisterhood: The Pain
Written by Nefertiti N.
She waved her hand and laughed
The dismissive gesture speaking volumes
Her hurtful words permeated the room
They drifted and whipped swiftly to consume
Morphing into a dagger and heading for its mark
As it appears to all that it was just a lark
Blood is drawn, for she knew where to aim
Invisible wounds – nothing remains the same
Like an old record stuck on repeat
Our sisterhood has more than just skipped a beat
How did I become something to defeat?
She waved her hand and laughed
The dismissive gesture speaking volumes
Her hurtful words permeated the room
They drifted and whipped swiftly to consume
Morphing into a dagger and heading for its mark
As it appears to all that it was just a lark
Blood is drawn, for she knew where to aim
Invisible wounds – nothing remains the same
Like an old record stuck on repeat
Our sisterhood has more than just skipped a beat
How did I become something to defeat?
A Gathering
Written By Kwesi D.
They came in a caravan, tumbling one on top the other like a line of dominoes; a convoy of characters mimicking something in a biblical parable. But they rode in cars instead of on camels, and replaced sandals and robes with designer boots, sweatshirts that read Brooklyn, jackets branded with pricy insignias, hats with wool sewn at the sides, and jewelry. There were no rods or staffs, no shawls or blankets, no water receptacles or metal pots. It was quite the reverse. They sipped caramel drinks out of cardboard cups, plugged neon-lit phones into the dashboard and rotated CDs every hour…tapping their fingers, nodding their heads, and throwing grim glances out of the passenger windows. A jingle erupted in the back, signaling yet another text message from someone’s boyfriend or girlfriend perhaps. How far had the vehicle advanced from the city? The dearly loved would have wanted to know. When would the exact return date be? And so on. There was a phone call soon afterwards and a hushed backseat conversation. There was an irritated sigh up front, and then, a hand found the plus sign on the radio and pumped the vintage Whitney Houston up a notch. One or two of those present, secretly wished to feel a cell phone suddenly vibrate; they wanted to hear some familiar voice on the other end tracking their own movements, sending peals of sentiment over the distance; waiting eagerly for a grand reunion. However, they hastily shook themselves from the feeling. This was not the time to think of such things.
The house appeared festive on the surface. The new arrivals walked through the door and there was a noisy greeting; hugs for the cousins, kisses for the aunts, and a clasp of hands between sisters. The baby walked a little unsteadily, still being unused to the art of the activity, but drawing the crowd in his direction nonetheless. The driver made the final entrance, climbing up the last leg of the long trip. He held a traveling bag in one hand, and in the other, a plastic bag containing goods from the homeowner’s favorite Caribbean restaurant. The entire company seemed to have been awaiting his arrival. He felt it. He greeted the elders with some affection, but not too much. He greeted his siblings. They had all gathered like flies around honey coated glue, and he greeted them. A longtime family friend sat in the corner with worry hanging on his face. It was a disturbing sight. The driver smiled and presented the man with a cheerful salute. Always the strong one, that one, the eldest boy, you know…was what the driver heard him say. He acted as if the words did not reach him, and kept moving.
The group was energetic, pretending not to notice that the phone was ringing incessantly. They passed the baby from hand to hand and made a gigantic fuss. They chattered on about the inane, anything but the event that was to take place in the coming days. No, they would wait to speak of hospital waiting rooms and the specific instructions that were given directly by the surgeon. They would wait even to think of it. Someone put the music on. Yes, that was what was needed. There was brandy and ginger ale on the table, and ice making its way into the glasses. Something heavy had been seeping into the air, but the assemblage quickly turned their backs to it. The driver felt it. That dear family friend downed his drink in one go. He started to talk loosely about courage with a crack in his voice. The driver focused on his game with the baby, thinking…he better not dare cry! The older women were in the kitchen cooking something big. “So, you’re only on liquids now?” Someone was heard asking, making light out of the heavyhearted. Laughter jumped up and out of the kitchen, high and loud as if to cover up the thing or drive it away.
They came in a caravan, tumbling one on top the other like a line of dominoes; a convoy of characters mimicking something in a biblical parable. But they rode in cars instead of on camels, and replaced sandals and robes with designer boots, sweatshirts that read Brooklyn, jackets branded with pricy insignias, hats with wool sewn at the sides, and jewelry. There were no rods or staffs, no shawls or blankets, no water receptacles or metal pots. It was quite the reverse. They sipped caramel drinks out of cardboard cups, plugged neon-lit phones into the dashboard and rotated CDs every hour…tapping their fingers, nodding their heads, and throwing grim glances out of the passenger windows. A jingle erupted in the back, signaling yet another text message from someone’s boyfriend or girlfriend perhaps. How far had the vehicle advanced from the city? The dearly loved would have wanted to know. When would the exact return date be? And so on. There was a phone call soon afterwards and a hushed backseat conversation. There was an irritated sigh up front, and then, a hand found the plus sign on the radio and pumped the vintage Whitney Houston up a notch. One or two of those present, secretly wished to feel a cell phone suddenly vibrate; they wanted to hear some familiar voice on the other end tracking their own movements, sending peals of sentiment over the distance; waiting eagerly for a grand reunion. However, they hastily shook themselves from the feeling. This was not the time to think of such things.
The house appeared festive on the surface. The new arrivals walked through the door and there was a noisy greeting; hugs for the cousins, kisses for the aunts, and a clasp of hands between sisters. The baby walked a little unsteadily, still being unused to the art of the activity, but drawing the crowd in his direction nonetheless. The driver made the final entrance, climbing up the last leg of the long trip. He held a traveling bag in one hand, and in the other, a plastic bag containing goods from the homeowner’s favorite Caribbean restaurant. The entire company seemed to have been awaiting his arrival. He felt it. He greeted the elders with some affection, but not too much. He greeted his siblings. They had all gathered like flies around honey coated glue, and he greeted them. A longtime family friend sat in the corner with worry hanging on his face. It was a disturbing sight. The driver smiled and presented the man with a cheerful salute. Always the strong one, that one, the eldest boy, you know…was what the driver heard him say. He acted as if the words did not reach him, and kept moving.
The group was energetic, pretending not to notice that the phone was ringing incessantly. They passed the baby from hand to hand and made a gigantic fuss. They chattered on about the inane, anything but the event that was to take place in the coming days. No, they would wait to speak of hospital waiting rooms and the specific instructions that were given directly by the surgeon. They would wait even to think of it. Someone put the music on. Yes, that was what was needed. There was brandy and ginger ale on the table, and ice making its way into the glasses. Something heavy had been seeping into the air, but the assemblage quickly turned their backs to it. The driver felt it. That dear family friend downed his drink in one go. He started to talk loosely about courage with a crack in his voice. The driver focused on his game with the baby, thinking…he better not dare cry! The older women were in the kitchen cooking something big. “So, you’re only on liquids now?” Someone was heard asking, making light out of the heavyhearted. Laughter jumped up and out of the kitchen, high and loud as if to cover up the thing or drive it away.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Sisterhood: The Love
Written by Nefertiti N.
I’m not alone
Cheerful, loving faces gather around
My girls and I are out on the town
Yet the numb, dull pain comforts and soothes
Its presence a remnant of the past I’ve yet to lose
Their words carry me to a safe place
Our armor down, the truth we are ready to embrace
We laugh and drink, and I feel the love
The power of sisterhood
In its finest moments
I’m not alone.
I’m not alone
Cheerful, loving faces gather around
My girls and I are out on the town
Yet the numb, dull pain comforts and soothes
Its presence a remnant of the past I’ve yet to lose
Their words carry me to a safe place
Our armor down, the truth we are ready to embrace
We laugh and drink, and I feel the love
The power of sisterhood
In its finest moments
I’m not alone.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Response to Sweet Release
Written by Angelo
First I want to say, great piece great post! No I will begin. The “Dr.” who authored this book is doing the Black community and injustice and needs to be addressed thoroughly.
1. Black People should consider themselves part of the larger global community.
This “gentleman” obviously has never taken the time to understand the unique history of the “Black” race. If he had he would realize a few things. First, the “Black” race has genealogically proven to be the original man/woman/and child on the face of this planet. “Lucy’ who in the context of the African continent is referred to in a African name represent the preeminent archeological find of the primordial Eve. The women from which all humanity is directly connected. This fact illustrates that not only are we a part of the human community but the individuals who birthed the human community. The cradle of humanity can be found in the center of the African Continent.
The next point which is of optimal significance is that not only have we provided the literal bodies for humanity but we have provided the intellectual bodies if you will, ideologies and civilization, that all of humanity follows today either in true express or in distorted perversion. Ivan Van Sertima has explained how we (Black people) were in America before Columbus and had in fact to large degree became the Native Americas history speaks of today. Countless giant Olmec heads have been found in South America depicting our connection to South and Central America, as well hieroglyphics that have been found in present day Arizona which some said had Greek origins. However, scholars soon realized it was not until 1492 that any European touched the Continent of North or South America, and the Greek culture is directly mirroring Egyptian culture (Kemetic culture). Just flip through the page of Black Athena and you will quickly understand how much of European culture is a replication of the Egyptian dynasties various stamps on humanity. Or stroll through the various countries in Europe and see the praise of the Black Madonna. Read Shakespeare’s Othello and experience a glimpse of the Moorish influence of the European world. Study the Buddhist faith and recognize that many of the original Buddha’s have been identified as Black men, not to mention various yogis throughout India. I could go on. The reality is that we have and always will be part of the human race. Not to mention that prior to European domination of the world we lived in harmony as members of the human race bringing enlightenment to the various world cultures. We are the true neighbor/ brother/sister of humanity for hundreds of thousands of years. 400 years is but a second in the course of humanity and we should not use that to determine who we are, from where we have come, where we are going, and how we will again lead the world to high ground.
The question or discussion should be why has white supremacy deliberately tried to right the Black race out of the human race by designating us as genetically inferior. Additionally, why has the white race through white supremacy deliberately re-written “Black” people out of the history of the world? This is the question. We have and will always be members of the human community despite the various attempts to literally destroy us and obliterate any connection we may have to the various cultures found throughout the world. As a great teacher once told me, “I went to Isreal and I found the “Black” man speaking Hebrew; I went to the Vatican and I saw the “Black” man practicing Catholicism, I went to Asia and saw the “Black” man practicing Buddhism; I went to England and saw the “Black” man speaking the King’s English better then the King; I went to South American and saw the “Black” man speaking Spanish; I went to Ethiopia and I saw the “Black” man worshiping in some of the oldest churches on the planet. The “Black” race has and will forever be members of the universal community. Mass media, along white supremacist education has written us out and continues to try to do so, and we have and will continue to fight them tooth and nail to expose their lies.
2. Black People should move out of the hood.
As was stated in the response we have developed communities in America as in Africa. What has happened in Africa, America, and the Caribbean is that our communities have been systematically destroyed. Take a walk in any “hood” and you will see many of the same things hood to hood. Take a walk in any upper crust white neighborhood and you will find many of the same things. These things while drastically different are results of systematic mechanisms working or not working in a community. I could go on to this point but I will not. I will say however that no “Black” person would opt to live in the “hood” over in an economically/systematically privileged neighborhood. That is what integration was all about. White people raised hell in the 1980’s when communities like Boston tried to bus a few Black Students into schools let alone as permanent residents in their communities. Their attempt was to get students out of the “hood” education system and afford them access that elevated their white counterpart’s opportunity ratio through the ceiling.
My grandparents as well left the rural south to come to New York for opportunity which they found in some capacity. My grandparents initially lived in what today is called “40 Projects” in South Jamaica Queens. However that “hood” was once a community where Black folks could pool resources and build a home which they did. Today those are communities that are over policed and underserved with poor education systems and eroding family values, which are not connected to black values but whites systems and the adoption of white values. Let’s be clear. The housing projects were are great success in America as long as it supported low income white folks, when Blacks began to utilize them the government took issues with these social support programs and systematically placed drugs in these communities to destabilize them. My grandparents live in Queens today which is the only county in America where Black folks earn more then their white counterparts. We have created successful Black Community however there is still over policing and the perception that these neighborhoods are “hoods” not communities which they in fact are. PG County Maryland (The only Black County in America with a Black Majority and income power only rivaled by the Black community in Queens County) is another shinning example, not without its problems, but clearly and example of what we can accomplish. I will wrap up by saying as we have moved into white communities “white flight” was used to get far away from us. Mortgage practices have prevented us from accessing loans to buy homes to build communities. Home owners have strategically created community codes to keep Black families out of their homes along with unspoken practices of discrimination. Yet we fight on and as we have built our own communities in Tulsa Oklahoma or Harlem New York, we saw communities literally burned to the ground (Google “Black Wall street Tulsa Oklahoma”). Or as in the case of Harlem we saw projects erected and brownstones torn down to restructure this flourishing Black community, and as we see today gentrification in Harlem today pushing Black families and businesses out of the community.
I say these things to say we must accurately access where we are and what we have accomplished and how white systems of white supremacy have systematically opposed us at every turn. If you dismantle the white racist system you will watch their house of cards fall, pushing Black people as individuals and not as a community system (communalism) to access their problem will create further fragmentation and undirected efforts.
First I want to say, great piece great post! No I will begin. The “Dr.” who authored this book is doing the Black community and injustice and needs to be addressed thoroughly.
1. Black People should consider themselves part of the larger global community.
This “gentleman” obviously has never taken the time to understand the unique history of the “Black” race. If he had he would realize a few things. First, the “Black” race has genealogically proven to be the original man/woman/and child on the face of this planet. “Lucy’ who in the context of the African continent is referred to in a African name represent the preeminent archeological find of the primordial Eve. The women from which all humanity is directly connected. This fact illustrates that not only are we a part of the human community but the individuals who birthed the human community. The cradle of humanity can be found in the center of the African Continent.
The next point which is of optimal significance is that not only have we provided the literal bodies for humanity but we have provided the intellectual bodies if you will, ideologies and civilization, that all of humanity follows today either in true express or in distorted perversion. Ivan Van Sertima has explained how we (Black people) were in America before Columbus and had in fact to large degree became the Native Americas history speaks of today. Countless giant Olmec heads have been found in South America depicting our connection to South and Central America, as well hieroglyphics that have been found in present day Arizona which some said had Greek origins. However, scholars soon realized it was not until 1492 that any European touched the Continent of North or South America, and the Greek culture is directly mirroring Egyptian culture (Kemetic culture). Just flip through the page of Black Athena and you will quickly understand how much of European culture is a replication of the Egyptian dynasties various stamps on humanity. Or stroll through the various countries in Europe and see the praise of the Black Madonna. Read Shakespeare’s Othello and experience a glimpse of the Moorish influence of the European world. Study the Buddhist faith and recognize that many of the original Buddha’s have been identified as Black men, not to mention various yogis throughout India. I could go on. The reality is that we have and always will be part of the human race. Not to mention that prior to European domination of the world we lived in harmony as members of the human race bringing enlightenment to the various world cultures. We are the true neighbor/ brother/sister of humanity for hundreds of thousands of years. 400 years is but a second in the course of humanity and we should not use that to determine who we are, from where we have come, where we are going, and how we will again lead the world to high ground.
The question or discussion should be why has white supremacy deliberately tried to right the Black race out of the human race by designating us as genetically inferior. Additionally, why has the white race through white supremacy deliberately re-written “Black” people out of the history of the world? This is the question. We have and will always be members of the human community despite the various attempts to literally destroy us and obliterate any connection we may have to the various cultures found throughout the world. As a great teacher once told me, “I went to Isreal and I found the “Black” man speaking Hebrew; I went to the Vatican and I saw the “Black” man practicing Catholicism, I went to Asia and saw the “Black” man practicing Buddhism; I went to England and saw the “Black” man speaking the King’s English better then the King; I went to South American and saw the “Black” man speaking Spanish; I went to Ethiopia and I saw the “Black” man worshiping in some of the oldest churches on the planet. The “Black” race has and will forever be members of the universal community. Mass media, along white supremacist education has written us out and continues to try to do so, and we have and will continue to fight them tooth and nail to expose their lies.
2. Black People should move out of the hood.
As was stated in the response we have developed communities in America as in Africa. What has happened in Africa, America, and the Caribbean is that our communities have been systematically destroyed. Take a walk in any “hood” and you will see many of the same things hood to hood. Take a walk in any upper crust white neighborhood and you will find many of the same things. These things while drastically different are results of systematic mechanisms working or not working in a community. I could go on to this point but I will not. I will say however that no “Black” person would opt to live in the “hood” over in an economically/systematically privileged neighborhood. That is what integration was all about. White people raised hell in the 1980’s when communities like Boston tried to bus a few Black Students into schools let alone as permanent residents in their communities. Their attempt was to get students out of the “hood” education system and afford them access that elevated their white counterpart’s opportunity ratio through the ceiling.
My grandparents as well left the rural south to come to New York for opportunity which they found in some capacity. My grandparents initially lived in what today is called “40 Projects” in South Jamaica Queens. However that “hood” was once a community where Black folks could pool resources and build a home which they did. Today those are communities that are over policed and underserved with poor education systems and eroding family values, which are not connected to black values but whites systems and the adoption of white values. Let’s be clear. The housing projects were are great success in America as long as it supported low income white folks, when Blacks began to utilize them the government took issues with these social support programs and systematically placed drugs in these communities to destabilize them. My grandparents live in Queens today which is the only county in America where Black folks earn more then their white counterparts. We have created successful Black Community however there is still over policing and the perception that these neighborhoods are “hoods” not communities which they in fact are. PG County Maryland (The only Black County in America with a Black Majority and income power only rivaled by the Black community in Queens County) is another shinning example, not without its problems, but clearly and example of what we can accomplish. I will wrap up by saying as we have moved into white communities “white flight” was used to get far away from us. Mortgage practices have prevented us from accessing loans to buy homes to build communities. Home owners have strategically created community codes to keep Black families out of their homes along with unspoken practices of discrimination. Yet we fight on and as we have built our own communities in Tulsa Oklahoma or Harlem New York, we saw communities literally burned to the ground (Google “Black Wall street Tulsa Oklahoma”). Or as in the case of Harlem we saw projects erected and brownstones torn down to restructure this flourishing Black community, and as we see today gentrification in Harlem today pushing Black families and businesses out of the community.
I say these things to say we must accurately access where we are and what we have accomplished and how white systems of white supremacy have systematically opposed us at every turn. If you dismantle the white racist system you will watch their house of cards fall, pushing Black people as individuals and not as a community system (communalism) to access their problem will create further fragmentation and undirected efforts.
Monday, May 10, 2010
3
by wynsters the tigress
as i nestle myself on top of you, i can feel your increasing arousal. you wrap your arms around me, pulling me closer, so there is no doubt to where you want me to be. your scent is intoxicating and i take several deep breaths to calm my racing heart. the light from the tv screen glows, causing an interesting play of shadows against your skin. i run my fingers over your face, your eyebrows, your nose, your lips...i stop there and i kiss you again. slowly this time, because i want to remember the way you taste. i deepen the kiss. your hands have somehow found their way under my shirt and you rub my back softly, gently enjoying the feel of my skin. i run my lips along your jawline, down your neck and to your collarbone. i frown when i realize that your shirt is keeping me from going any lower. i sit up, straddled across your lap, start to unbutton. your smile says you already know where this is going. you run you fingers lightly up my thighs, making my giggle. around you, my body is just one big sensitive spot that you enjoy taking advantage of. as i get to the last button, a sudden sense of urgency overpowers me and i quickly pull my own top off. i reach down and pull you up to me. the feel of your skin against mine makes me catch my breath sharply. i close my eyes, taking in the moment. as you nibble at my ear and my neck, my head involuntarily falls back as i lose myself in your touch.
as i nestle myself on top of you, i can feel your increasing arousal. you wrap your arms around me, pulling me closer, so there is no doubt to where you want me to be. your scent is intoxicating and i take several deep breaths to calm my racing heart. the light from the tv screen glows, causing an interesting play of shadows against your skin. i run my fingers over your face, your eyebrows, your nose, your lips...i stop there and i kiss you again. slowly this time, because i want to remember the way you taste. i deepen the kiss. your hands have somehow found their way under my shirt and you rub my back softly, gently enjoying the feel of my skin. i run my lips along your jawline, down your neck and to your collarbone. i frown when i realize that your shirt is keeping me from going any lower. i sit up, straddled across your lap, start to unbutton. your smile says you already know where this is going. you run you fingers lightly up my thighs, making my giggle. around you, my body is just one big sensitive spot that you enjoy taking advantage of. as i get to the last button, a sudden sense of urgency overpowers me and i quickly pull my own top off. i reach down and pull you up to me. the feel of your skin against mine makes me catch my breath sharply. i close my eyes, taking in the moment. as you nibble at my ear and my neck, my head involuntarily falls back as i lose myself in your touch.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Glitter For Carlos
Written By Jeff
Feeling the weight of the woman's intense stare all over my body, it takes all of the strength that I can muster not to let my rage overtake me. I'm sure that my boys feel the same way as we each pick up bottle after bottle of glitter from the shelf. The woman nervously glances at the man in the blue button down as we amble towards the counter. The man's paleness defeats his attempts to feign calmness. One by one we approach the counter and pull out our dollar bills, coins, plastic cards whatever it takes from our wallets, to pay for each bottle and proceeds out the door of the Office Supply Store without a word.
The convoy of cars now snake into the parking lot one after the other and appearing from each were young black men on a simple mission this day. Each patiently awaits his turn to step into the day room. The involuntary smile on my face is no match for the excitement showing on the face of my longtime childhood friend. Carlos stands and grunts as we embrace each other as brothers would. The Nurse does her best to pull Carlos' powerful body back down into his seat in front of the giant easel that his latest painting rests upon. I hand over my bottles of glitter as he mumbles thank you over and over.
The nurse motions me now with a stern hand yet gentle smile to move on so that the next person could matriculate into the room. In the hallway I let out a sigh as I observe other patients being ushered from here to there. The Mental Ward a place now for which I have no reference, I drop my head to save the tears for later. Arriving back to the box Chevy & hopping in we collectively let out howls and barks celebrating the fact that we have accomplished a good deed for our friend Carlos who otherwise seems to have been forgotten. Yes this was my first visit but would not be my last.
Carlos, who just months earlier was All-State High School Quarterback on the State Championship Football Team. Not only that but the brother was being recruited by nearly every major College in the country. Life was promising for the young man until one night out partying and some evil wretch slipped their venom into his drink. And what was strange about this dastardly deed is that Carlos was the son of a Preacher. This dreadful night would be his first time out with the young people having celebratory fun and drinking liquor.
Today, the man spends his time in the day room at the Mental Rehab Center painting pictures all of which he topped with glitter. It is good to see the progression made towards his recovery as life goes on and on.
Later on I discuss what we had done with my grandmother and she confirms that we have indeed done good. She mumbles something barely audible and I pause... she knows that my inquisitiveness will lead to extended worry if she doesn't tell me her thoughts. "Child I was just thinking back to that boy's daddy and how he treated his own family before he became a Preacher. I tell you life has a funny way of turning it all around; but that's enough about that for now, go on in the house before your supper gets cold." My grandmother trails me into the house I hear her mumble out something that would puzzle me for many years to come. I think back to her words that day, "yes son, life demands that every boy will one day grow into men that will answer for their father's sins or face the wraths of their father's demons."
Feeling the weight of the woman's intense stare all over my body, it takes all of the strength that I can muster not to let my rage overtake me. I'm sure that my boys feel the same way as we each pick up bottle after bottle of glitter from the shelf. The woman nervously glances at the man in the blue button down as we amble towards the counter. The man's paleness defeats his attempts to feign calmness. One by one we approach the counter and pull out our dollar bills, coins, plastic cards whatever it takes from our wallets, to pay for each bottle and proceeds out the door of the Office Supply Store without a word.
The convoy of cars now snake into the parking lot one after the other and appearing from each were young black men on a simple mission this day. Each patiently awaits his turn to step into the day room. The involuntary smile on my face is no match for the excitement showing on the face of my longtime childhood friend. Carlos stands and grunts as we embrace each other as brothers would. The Nurse does her best to pull Carlos' powerful body back down into his seat in front of the giant easel that his latest painting rests upon. I hand over my bottles of glitter as he mumbles thank you over and over.
The nurse motions me now with a stern hand yet gentle smile to move on so that the next person could matriculate into the room. In the hallway I let out a sigh as I observe other patients being ushered from here to there. The Mental Ward a place now for which I have no reference, I drop my head to save the tears for later. Arriving back to the box Chevy & hopping in we collectively let out howls and barks celebrating the fact that we have accomplished a good deed for our friend Carlos who otherwise seems to have been forgotten. Yes this was my first visit but would not be my last.
Carlos, who just months earlier was All-State High School Quarterback on the State Championship Football Team. Not only that but the brother was being recruited by nearly every major College in the country. Life was promising for the young man until one night out partying and some evil wretch slipped their venom into his drink. And what was strange about this dastardly deed is that Carlos was the son of a Preacher. This dreadful night would be his first time out with the young people having celebratory fun and drinking liquor.
Today, the man spends his time in the day room at the Mental Rehab Center painting pictures all of which he topped with glitter. It is good to see the progression made towards his recovery as life goes on and on.
Later on I discuss what we had done with my grandmother and she confirms that we have indeed done good. She mumbles something barely audible and I pause... she knows that my inquisitiveness will lead to extended worry if she doesn't tell me her thoughts. "Child I was just thinking back to that boy's daddy and how he treated his own family before he became a Preacher. I tell you life has a funny way of turning it all around; but that's enough about that for now, go on in the house before your supper gets cold." My grandmother trails me into the house I hear her mumble out something that would puzzle me for many years to come. I think back to her words that day, "yes son, life demands that every boy will one day grow into men that will answer for their father's sins or face the wraths of their father's demons."
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Silver
Written By Kwame
I'm being heavy on the bed
beneath this Sunday morning breeze,
it's curvy hips weigh me down
under my ambitions--Marooned,
they can frolic with the curtains. Me?
I let the remote slip to the carpet.
I haven't dozed off again,
there's simply no new woes on the TV.
I'm suppose to fold bath towels.
I could spread the bed with fresh sheets,
but it's quite made actually,
with my crooked legs and elbows.
I'll lay here till noon, after the sun
untangles from our lemon tree.
Maybe no one will knock,
and I can stay here in limbo.
I'm being heavy on the bed
beneath this Sunday morning breeze,
it's curvy hips weigh me down
under my ambitions--Marooned,
they can frolic with the curtains. Me?
I let the remote slip to the carpet.
I haven't dozed off again,
there's simply no new woes on the TV.
I'm suppose to fold bath towels.
I could spread the bed with fresh sheets,
but it's quite made actually,
with my crooked legs and elbows.
I'll lay here till noon, after the sun
untangles from our lemon tree.
Maybe no one will knock,
and I can stay here in limbo.
Peace of Mind
written by Felicia York
inspired by Nefertiti N.
Writer's Note: I was going to post something else but then I read Nef's poem and this is what I came up with. Written on the spot...
In the depths of her mind, she searched. Turning over thoughts, cleaning out memories, storing facts, throwing away novelty items she learned on the back of Snapple caps. What she sought still escaped her like the pot of gold at the end of rainbows or the question when someone asks you if you have one. The demons chased her constantly in her search. The things she could not find a place for in the storage bins of her cerebellum. They followed her everywhere she went. Ruthless in their pursuit, they taunted and teased. They were unruly children who never cleaned their room. They were messy roommates who ate all the groceries she bought. Nutritious things like patience, optimism, hope and perserverance. She called them stress. Their nickname was worry and in the evening when all was quiet, they acted as bad neighbors blasting their music at 3am. Waking her. Nudging her from her sleep, they were not satiated until she gave up. She was frazzled. Her nerves on edge and still, she searched until she was exhausted. Her body, her health depended it on it. She would not be able to relax until she found it.
She would have to face them head on, look them in the eye and take a stand. She would have to confront the beast, a young David ready to slay Goliath. A warrior in her own right, she would have to see the forest for the trees, put in elbow grease and a whole host of other metaphors. She was ready. She would fight to the death. There were no magic beans, no potion she could drink, no prince or knight. There was just one woman with her sword drawn, ready to take no prisoners, trying to find her peace of mind.
inspired by Nefertiti N.
Writer's Note: I was going to post something else but then I read Nef's poem and this is what I came up with. Written on the spot...
In the depths of her mind, she searched. Turning over thoughts, cleaning out memories, storing facts, throwing away novelty items she learned on the back of Snapple caps. What she sought still escaped her like the pot of gold at the end of rainbows or the question when someone asks you if you have one. The demons chased her constantly in her search. The things she could not find a place for in the storage bins of her cerebellum. They followed her everywhere she went. Ruthless in their pursuit, they taunted and teased. They were unruly children who never cleaned their room. They were messy roommates who ate all the groceries she bought. Nutritious things like patience, optimism, hope and perserverance. She called them stress. Their nickname was worry and in the evening when all was quiet, they acted as bad neighbors blasting their music at 3am. Waking her. Nudging her from her sleep, they were not satiated until she gave up. She was frazzled. Her nerves on edge and still, she searched until she was exhausted. Her body, her health depended it on it. She would not be able to relax until she found it.
She would have to face them head on, look them in the eye and take a stand. She would have to confront the beast, a young David ready to slay Goliath. A warrior in her own right, she would have to see the forest for the trees, put in elbow grease and a whole host of other metaphors. She was ready. She would fight to the death. There were no magic beans, no potion she could drink, no prince or knight. There was just one woman with her sword drawn, ready to take no prisoners, trying to find her peace of mind.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Be Still...
Written by Nefertiti N.
Worry and frustration need no fertilizer
They spring from barren and rich soil alike
Clouding reality with pessimism
Closing the gates of idealism
Making the mundane unbearable
And the hopelessness…just terrible.
But take a moment…
Just…
Be still…
The ancestors dance in the wind
To the rhythm of nature they sway and bend
The light from the sun sparkles on the leaves
As hope and calm is thankfully received.
So when doubt and fear hang clouds over your head
And it’s the daily grind that you dread
Just take a moment to absorb the beauty that surrounds
And I’m sure you'll find…there are blessings abound.
Reclaim the power in yourself
Reaffirm the positive
Renounce the negative
And if need be…
Just…
Be still…
Worry and frustration need no fertilizer
They spring from barren and rich soil alike
Clouding reality with pessimism
Closing the gates of idealism
Making the mundane unbearable
And the hopelessness…just terrible.
But take a moment…
Just…
Be still…
The ancestors dance in the wind
To the rhythm of nature they sway and bend
The light from the sun sparkles on the leaves
As hope and calm is thankfully received.
So when doubt and fear hang clouds over your head
And it’s the daily grind that you dread
Just take a moment to absorb the beauty that surrounds
And I’m sure you'll find…there are blessings abound.
Reclaim the power in yourself
Reaffirm the positive
Renounce the negative
And if need be…
Just…
Be still…
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