The Enlightened 1

The news said five white kids Of various ages killed another white man The white man was old, homeless and Had probably stolen large amounts of food in His lifetime. A felon. Makes me glad it wasn’t one of us. The news said 6 white kids Of various ages shot up a school today The students were all white and from upper income Families and died grasping their silver spoons Makes me glad it wasn’t one of us. The news said a white mother and her boyfriend Told police their kids were kidnapped by 2 black men 1000 black men were arrested and questioned then Police find the white kids buried in a balmy basement Makes me glad it wasn’t one of us. The news said the two DC snipers were finally caught After killing various colors of people for months Caught driving a Caprice in front of Popeyes Made sure their families were interviewed Never knew it could be one of us.

Forgive me, this is really not poetry It is certainly not Black, African Ebony or obsidian, high yellow or Even red-boned Negro would be far-etched and Colored Is a stretch Forgive me, this is really not poetry It is inadequate, an illusion more doctrinal Than optical, a poser posted in a post- Black power movement that moves away from Past movements by not moving at all Cleverness, forgive me, this is really not poetry Brooks, Baraka, Cullen, Giovanni, now That is poetry, soldiers who have seen rabid Police dogs and fire hoses wet faces wet with tears And spit, crowds of Blackness encircle the revolution And clutch Its back until blood dripped Forgive me, this is really not poetry I have only witnessed spinning rims parked in Front of projects, reflecting the whirlwind of Anger and despair of lovely, braided Black Spinsters spinning tales over sugary cereals and Juice boxes to kids with runny noses and no Recollection of bus boycotts or busing Black Faces across town in buses painted ...

Its so amazing that after the relationship got bad enough That we would go days without speaking… And then have cordial convos on prepaid cell phones During peak hours Its hard to believe that we went from poetry notes influenced By Floetry or Eric Roberson to cursing in text messages In the early mornings long after Jerry had gone off Its hard to imagine that we spent so much time together Touching and caressing, hours turning into days and Never said a word but now every time we meet your Mouth is moving constantly Its unbelievable that I am just your worst nightmare so Suddenly and that my personality and attitude are so Terrible but in the beginning you liked every thing about me Its tragic that we lost this love on some trip or some bedspread That has been washed clean and purified and regardless of what You try to tell me you don’t know what happened but anything To make yourself feel better

(we all have been the One sometime) I am the one… That calls out of the blue and leaves a message just to see how You are doing or will send the text message just to let you Know that you are remembered and that your soul is a gift to Me and others and that you are not here in vain… And I am not one of the first people you think of when you wake… I am the one… That compliments every outfit when you grace my presence because Even if I were blinded tomorrow your smile would still uncloud that Perpetual darkness and your beauty would forever let me know that God is a wonderful sculptor of minds and lives… And my missed calls to you are never returned… I am the one… That hates to see you cry or see your pride wounded and wants to Wrap my arms of strength and protection around your spirit until The sobbing subsides and the sun returns warmth to your bones and The stars twinkle again in your world… And I barely get a hello when I see you… I am the one… That sends flowers for no reason, yello...

Here is an indulgence into insensitivity, a blatant mouth of spit At dead hearts and dishonest tears, a loaded weapon aimed Strategically at the throats of posers and inhumane humans Breathe slowly…now slower…exhale…. Cloaks of hidden shadows that should be turned inside out and Turncoats revealed instead of revered like Revere, reversing The truth and astounding the sanctity of the cherubim Breathe slowly…take deep breaths…breathe faster… Who are you? No one. What say you? Nothing. Can you change the distortion in the mirror? Not at all. Should you be breathing? Certainly not. Then why shame heaven and hell with wet faces and hollow moans Over hallowed souls and cherished hearts, both day and night until The stench and filth from your transgressions incinerate the headstones Of Blackbeard and Jack the Ripper. Breathe slowly…take it easy…the demons are watching… What have you done today? Parlayed. Did you seek His face? No time today. Who can champion your contribution? No one that I k...

It is such a lame tired argument. It is overused and abused and seemingly comforts old wounds. But in reality it does no such thing other than enable you to remain clueless and irresponsible. It is used to wash away your sins but to never repent for those sins. It doesn’t require you to atone for your mistakes or suffer the consequences. It allows you to walk through life blaming misfortunes on everyone except yourselves. What do we speak? We speak of those conversations that drone on tirelessly slandering men. There are at least a million at this very second discussing how trifling men are and how they do nothing but ruin the lives of good women. The conversations are by candlelight, in bars and nightspots, seeping into sorority houses, taking place at workstations across the globe. How gratifying it is to be in agreement with so many others that a man ruined your life. His lies and unfaithfulness are part of his being and “girl don’t worry, they are all the same.” Amazement...

I planted that pistol at the root of her thoughts and wondered How my life had come to this moment of execution I ran the barrel of that gun around her earlobes and wondered What demon in hell was laughing at my weakness I caressed her face with that weapon and wondered Is her heart beating that fast or is it mine I kissed her lips with elemental cold steel and wondered Did the world condone the shedding of her blood I touched her hair with the hot lead factory and wondered If her screams would precede death I clutched the trigger with a sweaty palm and wondered If this release from Life could Conquer death I watched the scene in slow motion. I found her lying face down on the bed, drenching the Egyptian silk pillowcases in a waterfall of tears. Her cellphone was ablaze with incessant ringtones as callers went unanswered. I knew my own missed calls and voicemails were waiting patiently around the nearest cellular tower, awaiting their release from its fiber optic lines and ghastly m...

Sun drips blood and sour winds blow dust onto The dried plains as bones form cages for venomous Monsters but even the stench of rotting flesh is Tasteless to the flicking tongue of a viper who Knows his demise is near but must patiently murder Another soul in order to greet the king of the demons Upon his flesh ripping in two like human meat tearing And bleeding from the bone as ravenous hellhounds Rip capillaries and veins asunder as the screams from Children reach the insect-infested ears of vultures and The circling begins to eventually devour each piece of Cartilage and muscle but the bones will be picked clean Of uncooked, viral flesh and left to proclaim the lineage Of life and its destiny of death.

In a cascade of tyranny, young men Are shuffled through a tyrannical system In droves on a daily basis and transported In circles around pictures of dead Black Panthers And fallen Republicans and the voices of KRS-One And Chuck D are synthesized to imitate crunk music And hyphy styles, even as the logos of Pan-Africans And Garvey’s Black Star are blurred into NBA logos And Jaguar emblems and the sounds of the gnashing of teeth Can be heard rising through the stench of Styxx, the War still rages on, grenades packed with the finest powder From Colombia still swiftly take on any machinations Of an independent existence or the power of a million ballot Boxes and the bullets in Army issue assault rifles rival the Artillery used by God’s lost people in Israel and these weapons Of mass minority destruction claim souls by the thousands even As they rise from slumber onto the oil-slicked streets and the Hurricane-driven rains reshape the nation and spill sustenance From the melting pot which co...

Prada & Chanel are for women who make dollars You sit at home and watch Maury and reality TV Need to send the social worker for my son Because his mama’s going to be living in a teepee Lady please, only funds go to my son and his welfare I wouldn’t trust you with a Popsicle in the south pole Told every man the same lie, sold them the same dream I remember when I met you, so cute with your mouth closed A rose from concrete, more like a thorn in the junk yard I need to atone for my sins…of letting this trifling woman in I can’t believe now I’m dealing with you 18 years The stench of your lies still sticks to my skin Trusted you with honor and tried to give you respect But you wandered from the path of true womanhood Had a Black king but you went at midnight to the paupers If the truth had ever left your lips…I would have understood

On July 1, 1566, as crooked candles died and welcomed the blackest of midnights, a hush of death fell heavily onto a small French town. Wolves gathered to howl at the hidden moon and animals rushed for cover as the mist moved in thickly, preceding the Reaper’s walk. The stars are blinded as tears gather in the clouds and the winds bring deathly chill in the midst of summer. An old blind doctor is the only thing carrying a wisp of life moving within the valley. Torrential rains suddenly douse his frail bones through tattered robes but he travels on to the hut at the end of the village. Shadows move in and out of his path and he can feel the glowing eyes of the Reaper and his minions burning holes into his soul. He finally reaches the door and speaks a few words of incantation to keep the demons at bay until that fateful hour. As he passes through the threshold, lightning flashes to his left and he thinks he makes out the notorious sickle of Life’s ancient nemesis. He presses on a...

This is for the lady we all missed because we were too busy looking at the ones who would allow us to use and abuse them and had no clue the power they were given from birth. You were the quiet one in class, no contacts just glass Wore the jeans that fit and never skirts that showed ya ass Had class, never talked loud or let the cleavage hang low Your girls got out of hand but you always stayed though Never flame throwed or hated on your hoochie friends Who got all the men but could never keep them in Depends on the light, your eye color or your skin tone You never stayed late, always the first to get home Respected yourself, martinis, cute she only sipped these Never took shots in public, not lady-like to be tipsy We just never seemed to notice you, the bold in you How you entered a room and then floated boo Totally looked over you, how you kept ya grades steady And never played yourself, kept your gifts new & ready For one of those kings to pay you proper respect Always the first...

I heard someone ask, “What am I, what defines me?” It seems a fairly simple question and a question that we find ourselves asking and re-asking everyday. What we are, is not our attitudes and characteristics. How contrite we would be if everyone could be lumped into a box with all those who are ill-tempered, or friendly or loyal to others. Those Zodiac-esque descriptions are wonderful to read on the back of a China King menu as the fried rice swims in oil in a hot wok or the deep pages of some random daily paper that has spewed these regurgitated phrases to millions of others over thousands of days. We are bigger than these little boxes and more powerful than their literary walls or the money-hungry conglomerates that fashion their spin on life and hand us the blueprint to live as they have detailed us. It is not the preconceived notions that fester in every breast. It is not the images depicted in art and culture or some babbling idiot trying to explain to Judge Mathis why he won...

Hints are powerful things. They may be so powerful that we tend to ignore their awesome presence. How many times have we missed a hint and days layer reconstructed the situation and said “huh…so that’s what she meant.” It is always humorous to be watching or listening to a situation and witness the hints being thrown right and left and the people involved missing every one. If you call someone twice and they don’t call you back, they probably don’t want to talk to you. And in this day of missed calls on cell phones and caller ID on landlines, it’s unlikely the phrase, “I didn’t know you called,” is reasonable. If for example you have a friend that works at an electronics store and you mention that you need the hook-up on say an mp3 player and they don’t offer to help, no need to ask them directly because they can’t help you or don’t really want to help you. How many times have you been in a conversation and mentioned something and the other person kept talking like they didn’t hear...

This is dedicated to the young man in New York who recently lost his life in a hail of police gunfire while celebrating his wedding day. His name was Sean Bell. Sean B…a favor for me and a statement to the demons Beyond the brink, gather the death angel and any Other heavenly minions that are taking a break from Interfering in the lonely lives of the lowly humans And return to the scene of the crime arrayed in Your darkest spirit form and gather every one of Those 50 bullets that sung a song as it whisked to End the life you chose and hold them tightly in the Palm of your now-praying hands and as the praises Greet God, take each one to some dear friends of mine Give bullet 1 to Ishmael, Abraham’s black son who brought About a world of black folks to endure bad credit, Hiphop and self-hatred centuries in the making Give bullet 2 to the unknown black man that helped Jesus Carry that heavy cross up that stony hill and never would Know a slavemaster’s noose Give bullets 3 through 6 to tho...

These kinds of conversations still amaze me. They usually begin with, “ I never thought she would do that,” or “I’ve known dude since way back….” And usually by the end of this monologue, the listener is usually thinking, “How in the hell could you put that pass this person?” There should be a course given in high school or somewhere called Friendship 101. It’s astounding how long it takes most of us to realize that some people are really not friend material. These thoughts stemmed from a recent conversation with a friend who now has legal troubles because of a “friend.” Even though the bulk of their interaction was based on both their abilities to lie, cheat and steal, he just couldn’t fathom how the guy could tell a lie on him. Irony at its finest. What is even more interesting is that people know deeply that a certain person or people are a detriment to their life. How could you not know? If you have fed someone from your table, given them money, listened to their hard times, wat...

Erase that, miss…stay back and face facts I pray that I maintain civility, remain laid back Crazy, I delayed rap and disrespect blatant Not really equipped for a woman that’s taken Too many lies, goodbyes and false accusations Too many cries, at night, denied active procreation Not latent sexuality, stress level low in entirety A boy-toy, no job security, anytime you can fire me A liar? Me? Not really, juggling women - dang silly Really, was my soul made for 20 women to feel me? Celestial gift of a half-circle, only need one to complete For you I’m in line, signing up, warming up to compete My emotions are slow motion, notions of where I stand A bogus plan to be every woman’s ideal man Changing faces and facial expressions have taught lessons That to one soul every person is destined Men were not born to be actors and deliver pleasure But to cling to one of God’s gift in good and bad weather A true measure of a man that can withstand temptation And anchor his lady, together they shall ...

I spew forth wisdom in prisms of light configured In 360 degrees and in the midst of knowledge Surrounding my head as assuredly as pristine Halos anoint the scalp of the highest angel in the sense I am above Lucifer and can command the trumpet Of Michael the archangel and in the heavens stars Concede to my passing as I shift shapes and with The whisper of my vocal chords the wind is hushed How blessed to be given the power to train the sun To rise and fall or coerce the moon to spin a little Slower than the most beautiful ballerina on an Unseen axis and the ovation is deafening from The flapping of a million wings from one half Of a million birds as I scatter the summer in Bunches and string fall along with movement Of my fingertips and how the oceans wax and Wane with the climax of my emotions as the crust Erupts and spouts forth land masses from its depths As though I thrusted my hand into the deepest sea and Grabbed the soul of the earth through its chest and The currents move in sy...

I woke in cold sweats and the room was frozen Light pierced my soul and cold wind soaked in Chosen on this day a gent sat in a corner of the room The air was quite still and my bed was a tomb Dressed in dapper black and his stare was icecold Greeted me as Death, then my soul twice froze My mind told me I was dreaming or hallucinations But the numbness in my blood & I was mistaken Taken by surprise I prayed at a heavenly angle Death laughed, and said he was still an angel I said you must leave I’m to young for the Reaper He said, “You were too young when she said go deeper.” Confused my mind raced why am I conversing with Death He said, “I’m just awaiting the timing of your last breath.” “Don’t worry it’s not this moment or hour in fact.” “You have dates with doctors and nurses before that.” I said, “Seriously Death I’m fine and in good health,” “My life has been blessed with family and wealth.” Death answered, “Young foolish one your time is about spent,” “No more charming words, o...

She never really understood Or maybe she did but she never really cared I never needed criticism or tough love I never wanted to challenge her strength Or battle constantly about how she thought I only wanted her to hear my song To hear the words and sing along To accept the whispers in my heart To shine the Light when it was dark I think she knew I did not need a mother She had to feel that nagging was not the way It only enflamed a heated situation I could never convince her just to listen And not say anything until the words stop flowing I only wanted her to hear my song To hear the words and sing along To accept the whispers in my heart To shine the Light when it was dark She would never accept my point of view Even if it agreed with hers The days were to test my masculinity And the nights were to praise her femininity The fights always outlasted the love I only wanted her to hear my song To hear the words and sing along To accept the whispers in my heart To shine the Light when it...

Yes you can fail. It seems so simple, but a concept so foreign to so many. How many times have I heard, “I am in this situation because its God’s will and there is nothing I can do about it.” It is so sad that we allow ourselves to be powerless when we have been given the strength to move mountains. A people placed a little higher than the angels subjects themselves to failure and mediocrity. But how can we cause our own failure? We were blessed with the Serpent’s curse of freewill. We know the word but yet we constantly refuse to connect it with our daily lives. It’s a paradox, but not an unsolvable problem. Yes we never want to take away the omni power of the Creator. Yes the Creator has a master plan and we are destined to complete its circle. But freewill is buried within this plan. How many ways can one travel to say Atlanta? You can use various highways, go off-road, take a plane, use a boat for some of the trip etc. but you will end up in Atlanta. The Creator has the...

I never told her she was more than I had ever seen A clever scheme, to be friends & leave emotions unseen I believed I would never see her smile in my dreams She never knew, for her, I’d fire all the players on my team A pecan, sweet as yams and fiery as Spanish spice Creole in complexion, lips tastier than red beans and rice Her motion was fluid, lots of hips to swing and sway She never knew I saw her come & watched her walk away I hated to hear her voice, sweetness made my heart leap The sound would follow me for days, into all my sleep I knew I should have asked if friendship was our destiny I thought maybe that God was just testing me A woman beyond compare and I couldn’t tell her anything Couldn’t tell her 1 summer I fell for her in winter and the spring I think we could be good together, take the world by storm I’d be happy with her in a house, cardboard box or a dorm Yet I play the slick role, but in loneliness I stand Because I hate being her friend and just want to be ...

A silvery scene, as Psalms bleed, grieved in sadness The grey king, He shaped things, conceived the madness Black kids, in the end, entire nations imploded Total darkness enfolded, as the screams and bombs exploded…. An old soul, She begot twins, now captive to one son Jealousy…it twisted one, rage became larger than Big Pun He stunned the universe’s patriarch, Father Time met Death And His cries burned the sun until stars mourned his last breath Murdered at midnight, by the Son he bought the sun Caught & stunned, he ran past Pluto, frozen soul until it numbed Then Death, in the legacy of Cain and Esau took Life Crushed it before the stars as the nuclear warheads took flight Shook off the stench of life lost, even as the earth tossed Wives lost and the rotting bodies of children birthed moss Mother Nature pleaded to her son, “Death, I love thee still” His grin created a black void, crushing vertebrae to His will “You loved Life more, and Father dedicated more Time…. Milleniums you ...

Need you? Like I need bad credit & a felony Chick please, remember I made you shine I gave you motivation for destiny Put you in the game when you were riding the pine Rags to riches was your story Your meals before me always included cheese paper Took you from jeans and tees To Vera Wang and outfits from a tailor Yes I’ll miss you and all the jealousy you created So many women because they envied your situation And all I asked was loyalty and service And you presented me with humiliation Your mother told me to let you go Said she knew her seed was crazed and dumb And you better have a good lawyer and bodyguards If you ever try to keep me from my son.

Hurt you? You’re conceited, everything’s not about you The world doesn’t revolve for your pleasure I got what I wanted, you helped me graduate And skilled at releasing a week’s worth of pressure Neither of us was ready to even go steady But remember you pushed saying timing was right I knew that this boat was only Titanic-steady But your insecurities blinded your sight Honesty was our downfall I told the truth in stages You told the truth never And it’s broken because of our ages You can leave now you’re still a weakness Skin bronze as metal, lips I still don’t believe Body soft as cushions, still flexible huh? Better show you the door or I won’t let you leave

Hello what do you want to be today? There are many colors in all arrays I choose not black, I choose not white, I’m gray Too many absolute absolutes that absolutely won’t change Too many cloths sewn together that can never be rearranged Too many gripes gripping souls in grips like vice grips Too many edges so rough they neither slide nor slip Hello what do you want to be today? There are many colors in all arrays I choose not black, I choose not white, I’m gray This side is a legacy, the other is dynasty This side is gloomy, the other is “fine with me” This side is blessed, the other is cursed This side is the best, the other is the worst Hello what do you want to be today? There are many colors in all arrays I choose not black, I choose not white, I’m gray Come follow me because I have the key Come follow me because the door is open widely I know what’s best I’ve traveled the highway I know what’s best I’ve built the byway Hello what do you want to be today? There are many colors in a...

“Skeezy”? you were sleazy and vain Saw my rims spinning, and swiftly spun your web You tried to trap me in vain Missed my intelligence and played me dumb instead So quit the sob story, actresses get no glory You thought you could change me And tell your girlfriends the story Liar, I’m not “lion”, you will never tame me Our love was a joke, you had eyes for another Thought I never knew I was rebound You accepted phone calls from the other And I looked like the clown So excuse my lack of sympathy & sorrow Crying over me…you’ll never be done I’ll still call you tomorrow And let you know you lost one.

There was a feeling when I saw you That you were going to be easy This feeling was not really to hurt you But I’ve always been out to please me I use your emotions against you To gain the things I need Your emotions play against you So I simply ask, never beg or plead And you run but you will come back My control has distanced friends I irk your friends, they won’t come back And your mine until all time ends No you’re right it’s not a game You’re really trapped in this world of mine I play for keeps, I own the game Only through me can you shine

There was a time in ancient ages, that witches trained by powerful Druid priests, conjured a powerful place above earth. This area was sustained by the energy of evil demons and destined to remain invisible to humans until the end of time. Its walls were fortress-like and could endure the strength of 100 billion men. Its atmosphere was bleak and foggy, and the sun was cursed from giving light to its depths. There were no seasons as winter, cold and dark, ruled in this domain. It knew no happiness and accepted no joy. It generated only death and destruction, as its visitors were left to die in a forgotten home. On its gate were words in an ancient tongue, burned into metal by the acidic blood of ogres and spells cast to vanquish all who entered its cradle to oblivion from the world. For years men have disappeared and never left trace of their passing. They have been imprisoned in what we now call…the FRIEND ZONE. This is a hateful place that all men on earth have endured countles...

Invisibility can be disheartening when the People that don’t see you for who you are Should be the last individuals to mistake your Sincerity for fakeness or your honesty for hate Yet it seems that the first and most tenacious People to discredit your true essence or the Depiction of that essence are those that we call friends Or those we consider friends without ever speaking Of the title because it should be unequivocally understood That we are down until death because of the nights We shed tears over the loss of some mutual human Life or the last dollar that we split so that we both Would not be hungry or the couch they let you sleep On when you had no other place to go or even when You were brave enough to tell them about their Cheating significant other and yet they choose to Listen to the lies of those who not only are not Interested in your well-being but also have shown Not to be interested in their well-being also but Still they trudge on, believing the rumors and Even helping...

You are the wildflower that sprouts from the Rocky mountainside, various shades directing Sunlight toward those of us trapped blindly in The darkness of the valley. Your endurance Is legendary as you brave the howling winds Of summer thunderstorms and reflect moonlight In the darkest winter twilight as though God Granted you the patent on being natural Lighthouses to lead weary travelers to the Warmth and comfort of your bosom. Your Fragrance lifts the spirits of birds careening Past your dazzling array of colors. You turn the Desolation of rocky terrain, covered in masses Of twisted branches and broken dreams, into A breath of God’s promises as assuredly as the Promise of a rainbow after a light spring rain Your strength to hang on, thriving and blooming On the steep side of a mountain, never relenting Or dying, never allowing the lack of soil to stunt Your growth or let the sporadic rainfall in your life Keep your petals from smiling at the world. The rocks And steep edges are danger...

There is no sword or artillery weapon Formed that can strike more fear And pain than the configuration Of letters Castles have been sieged and Empires have been toppled By deceit and vengeance Of the less powerful The immediate health of Ones body can be severely Challenged by the slip Of a few words Destroy the words and And you may find happiness As you lie to yourself In a span of minutes, the level of blood racing through my veins was decreasing and I never even knew her name. The events take on a circular path as the ambulance zooms down lighted thoroughfares. The wrath of a woman is the only thing I learned this cloudy evening and only the moon can fully relay my tragic story as the stars stood idle, gazing. As I entered the smoky domain of the Black Orchid, her perfume surrounded my head as though I was promoted to an admiral of angels. The air was filled with Black and Mild smoke, cheap cologne, and the sweat produced by heavy cotton designed for winter weather being worn in e...

There is one person in life that I am responsible for - me; me, myself and I. There are exceptions like parent and babies, or mentally-ill patients, etc. The one person who I solely control is myself. But why is this important? Because I have seen too many people destroy themselves or the things around them because they were concerned with more than themselves. My job is a perfect example. There are certain people who can arrive to work whenever and suffer no consequences. I, on the other hand, must be punctual and ready to work everyday. Now I could spend my day upset and angry that I can't do what the "Jones'" do, but I do not control the Jones's. I must make sure that I am doing my job, regardless of what anyone else in that building does. I could take the attitude that I should do what others do, but when I lose my job, the phrase, "but he did it too," will not negate the issue that I was not performing my duties. Too many people are finding themselv...

Image is everything. I've heard recently that the "inside is what counts." A more accurate phrase would be "the inside is part of what counts." If you were injured, an ambulance is called and all of the paramedics jump out wearing Rocawear outfits, doo-rags and Timbs would you think twice about putting your life in their hands? If you needed your car repaired and went to Goodyear would you feel comfortable leaving your car in the hands of mechanics wearing pink ballet outfits and satin slippers? An honest person's answers would be no to both questions. So logically, we can safely assume those opinions and judgments of humans and their talents, character, abilities, etc. is initially based on their outward appearance. I don't think any of us would allow a "policeman" dressed in capri pants and an Old Navy t-shirt to search our vehicle, especially if he was driving a money-green cutlass with a mural of his naked sisters spray painted on the hood....

Something has been causing my mind headaches as I try to figure it out. Why do people settle? Moreover, the people that settle, why do they try to unsuccessfully convince themselves & me that they are profoundly aware of what type of person they need in their lives, and only this person is what they will tolerate? Case and point. How many men and women can we name that have expressed their high value and what a “catch” they would be for anyone searching? These same confused individuals then go on to describe what type of person will be acceptable for courtship. The lists are long and varied, but include things like “must be educated, well-spoken, no kids, good job, nice dresser, spiritual, not prone to physical violence, etc.” They reiterate frequently during this conversation that they will accept nothing less and that this list will never change because they are who they are and prospective daters better step correct. The next week you see this woman for example with her eye sw...

Someone gave me this to write about.... The conscience is a powerful thing. It’s also amazing. And it’s also very amazing that we rarely listen to it. How many times have we met some one of the opposite sex, got that initial bad feeling, but brushed off that dread with “but he/she is so damn fine.” And 9 months later you are trying to look through their cell phone, quizzing them about daily whereabouts and sending your band of nosy girlfriends on “blue’s clues” missions. Tragedy strikes when we ignore the Comforter bestowed to us by the Creator. How many times would my life have been fruitful if I had followed the intuition given to me by my conscience. “Follow your first mind,” is indeed sage advice. But the conscience will not be heard until you are attune to yourself. Honesty must dwell between you and your inner being. Unless you are comfortable with yourself, you will not have the trust to believe and follow the conscience within you. You will continue to wage war within yourself...

The earth was hard, resolved clay Red as barns and rubies, stubborn as pack mules The shovel dug into the earth repeatedly Shifting its shape as a mortician to a gun wound Throwing the foundation around like John Deeres The sweat from my brow escaped my forehead Lying in sweet rest, as though awaiting the chariot To swing low and scoop its form from the dirt But the normal relationship between dirt and moisture was lacking Lacking a seed of hope to sprout roots and transform dust No flowers would bloom or perennials spring forth The earth was just being dug and sifted That shovel was working its muscles to the bone The clanging of metal against rock was resounding It’s tone singing death to the flying vultures above A black hole slow emerges from beneath the shovel Blacker than charred bodies from the Chicago fires Deeper than Judas’s fall from grace as the coins jingle In this dark vastness, I plunge another bundle Another bloated, sickening blob of matter This ghastly figure gripping...

We as people are heavily confused. Someone or something and I will not give all credit to the Serpent, has convinced us that we are immortal powerful beings that deserve something in this life. I have seen too many people with their hands out & their wallets open. Life is not free. In the realm of heaven and earth you are nothing alone. You are not strong, you are not intelligent…you are a feeble shell of the Creator and only through Him do you have greatness and worth. Too many people are expecting life to give them something. Too many people are expecting me to give them something. I owe you nothing. The world owes you nothing. Your family owes you nothing. Some of you have the audacity to make a mistake and assume that I should help you out, or give you some type of break because you made a bad decision. My mother told me when I was kid and only when I got older did it make sense – “When people are nice, they don’t have to be nice to you.” Example of people who think life shou...

This was discussed at work yesterday and I really was amazed that the women, both black & white were not aware of the subtle difference that men inherently acknowledge when these words are used. Pretty is primarily based on facial features and guys normally associate this adjective with unsexual beauty and intangible attributes like the way you walk, your presence and poise among others, your style of fashion, attitude etc. Words synonymous with a pretty girl can be beautiful, gorgeous, stunning and any new phrase we can think of that is created when you enter the realm & we look at our boys & say something stupid like "that girl is Dasani, clean & fresh straight from nature, and oh so good for the body." These days pretty is a rarely used word because a lot of women have been mislead by "fine" and don't take the time to cultivate anything or character traits that don't accentuate their bodies from the neck down. Fine is a terrible word that ...