Wednesday, February 9, 2011

DAY 9...If you can

I can't spend my time worrying about what people think...besides I can't stand most people anyway.
So bring it...


I love this image of indomitable longevity. This couple seems to have been sitting on those same weathered steps for a thousand years...looking as life; all kinds of life passed them by without so much as twitch.


REBEL


If  you are never able
to stand up
to the bullies around you
and say
NO
when you should,
stand when you can,
and run
when you know
you can't fight.

Don't think 
that you are being brave
That is the ordinary way
That bandwagon stand,
Come; act like a man
Your standard erect 
and unfurled.

Try  sticking to your own bazooka
or  bb gun, whatever it may be.
Fear if you must
But hold to the truth
And you'll find in the dark
you can see.

In striving to reach to the top
Everyone wants to succeed.
But success cost dearly
So work hard,
live fairly
And don't trample on men in your greed.

Rebels are set for a time
And the cost of true freedom
is high.
It will cost you your gold
your opinion,
your pride,
And eventually
you must lay down
and die.



This is how Tupac says it...Pain

DAY 8...PAIN

You need to have a personal relationship with...

PAIN

You can only know the true joy of the mountain top when you have been to the valley low.





My One true love
My unerring friend
Who never lies or pretends
to overstand
to know
to comprehend
but merely comes
and holds in steely bands
and crush and pinch
in ice cold hands
and gives me life
and purges and cleans
and releases me
to live again
My companion constant
who stabs the truth
in sweet soft flesh
and tears life apart 
to the root
and slices through
like a common brute
who beats to pulp
my foolish heart
and calls my attention
with poison darts
I know you are here
and I know you Care. 

DAY 7...Sometimes all I have is my...

Sometimes all I have is my....Fill it in.
For the next three days I will talk about the underlying
anger that drives a lot of us of the diaspora...my anger
I will own it, because only in owning it can I hope to control,
and finally overcome it.

Sometimes all I have is my ANGER!





Rage against the night
this dark that stalks my fertile soil
That blithe and warps the budding fruit
and causes it to whither in youth.
Cry out against the subtle dark
that seeps relentlessly inside
and stifles the light,
and strangles hope
and stabs a dream
and pushes dope
It causes us to sleep in our piss,
Lie in our puke,
eat, shit, and die.
It makes us sit in the rocking chair of despair
on the veranda of want
and complain to empty heads
as the Independence parade passes by.
So, who will stand
and who will fight
Open your eyes
and fight the night
Hands to the plow
push with might
Rage, in violent savage waves
and refuse to live in silent graves. 







Sometimes all I have is my anger, 
but I am also searching for my place.
I know this is my time and I am making my way to joy.
I refuse to have my dream deferred.


Thanks for reminding me Langston!

Sunday, February 6, 2011

DAY 6...A dedication to life






This is to all Those 
(nameless, faceless ones from hungry nations) 
who in your inestimable avarice 
uprooted us, 
uprooted us from the mother 
and transported 
our exotic
our strength 
and indomitability 
across the vast expanses of the ocean 
in filty, crowded ships of death. 
Where we withered and pined 
and bled and died 
and accepted our fate 
and recovered 
and grew stronger, 
and walked in the sun, 
and worked in the sun 
sweat gleaming on our ebony skin, 
smelling like a giant armpit, 
living in our waste, 
bathed by salt water, 
our skins getting tough, calloused, 
our souls bleeding, 
our spirits fighting 
to remain free 
to remain whole.


This is to my baymen forefathers; 
Richards, Flowers,Youngs, 
Wagners, Goff, McCoullough, 
who ate the good of the land 
and left nothing in return 
Whose legacy is bitterness 
and hatred 
Prejudice and strife 
self-abnegation and mental bondage, 
who tore apart my families, 
and scattered us to the four winds, 
who gave me Jesus Christ: a cross and a gun
and destroyed my culture, 
who cursed my skin color, 
despised my physical capabilities, 
profited from my adaptability 
and usurped my soveriegnity, 
destryoed my individuality 
corrupted my spirituality 
warped my sexuality 
steeped me in depravity 
and left me in poverty. 
 

This is for my great- 
6 greats removed-grand father 
Imago Bodigunie Abagario Obu (John Smith) 
who did what he knew best to do 
who fought a battle of the wills 
whose skin was white 
whose soul was black, 
who owned slaves, 
a slave himself 
who made a nation 
who gave me a heritage 
who brought me here 
to be who i am today; 
To accomplish my destiny 
to be a voice, two arms 
Two legs, a dick and a mind, 
have a conscience, and a spirit, 
to be strong, to have purpose 
To not live his life, 
but to live mine. 
 

This is for the Resistance 
for my brothers in the 
North, South, East, and West. 
In Georgia, and Alabama, 
In Tennessee and Louisianna 
In Rio de Jinero and Belo Horizonte 
In Jamaica and Cuba 
and Grenada and Antigua, 
In Costa Rica and Honduras, 
In Nicaragua and Panama 
In Soweto and Jo'burg, 
Who stood up then, 
Who stand up now 
Who REFUSE to be Pawns any longer, 
Who ARE strong in their beliefs, 
Firm in their resolve 
Radicals for the cause 
Sold on their convictions

     of their rights; 
     to be big, 
     black 
     badass mutha's 
 

This is for my angry 
little brothers and sisters 
who roam the streets of our lands, 
rebellious and mad as hell is hot, 
who do not esteem life 
who have no sacred creed, 
without vision or direction. 
A generation of Bastards, 
Fighters, Haters, beaters, 
Shooters, Crazies, Lazies, 
Hopeless Daisies, 
Defiant, Unreliant, 
Complacent, 
Unproductive, Destructive, 
Mad, Bad, youth. 
 

These who are a product of 
Tar baby 
the X-Factor, 
White Right 
The Resistance, 
and (In) Times Like These. 
 

To all of you I give thanks. 
For you have made me what I am, 
Who I am, 
Your bad and your good, 
Your productive and destructive, 
African, European, White, Black, 
Carib, Indian, 
All a part of the mix 
I am whole now, 
I am complete, 
I am a man 
I am a woman, 
I am a boy 
I am a girl, 
I AM BLACK. 

DAY 5...Legacy of Women Continued



Nina Simone a woman whose voice led her down many paths, unerringly truthful never easy.




Kill my black flesh, but I shall live,
I tell you
I shall live.
My eternal soul shall live.
I am beyond death.
...While you are weak and easily broken
I am strong,
Tried by fire
and proven sturdy.
...While you think me animal and inferior
I am wise and bide my time.
...While you think me shameless and wanton,
a sexual miscreant
and brutally made
I am a celebrant of my humanity,
a connoisseur of beauty,
a skilled artist at my craft.
...and while you rant and rave
and beat me down
and shame me
and make me small in your eyes
and small in my eyes
I wait and grow
and stand and stretch
and smile inwardly
and trudge along
 
...swing low sweet chariot
                 comin' for to carry me home...
And sing the songs of redemption
and walk along...the proven path
and go on
and move up
and finally
fear only that which is inside of me that is
black.