Some days I love ya
Some days I don’t
Some moments I miss ya,
Sometimes I won’t
You is my friend,
Yes, you is my lover
But I see spaces of insecurity
So go back to yo’ motha
I have a mind to fuck another
For the resentment that you hide
Can’t fathom I’ve even settled
Like the shores at low tide
I think I see you half empty
When I should be seein’ half full
For all yo’ great talents
I can’t get past all the bull
It’s not like we married
You ain’t get no divorce
And after six years,
You still have no remorse
But I’m in my fullness,
Baby boy, you got ta go
No time for stagnation
I can’t take this shit no mo’!
Bye Bye, little boy
Yo’ coins insufficient
To maintain a repressed whore
Who can’t afford to pay attention
Baby boy, bye bye
Cuz you make my pussy dry
We use to fuck so good
Now, I don’t even try
But you good, right?
You got bitches after you
After all, you did me a favor,
Fatherin’ones who ain’t belong to you
I always said, Thank you
For holdin’ it down wit my girls
It’s time for us to set out in our own lil world
So go on complainin’
To whoever will listen
You can put it all on me,
Fo’ this pussy you missin’
Bye bye, ole lover
You ain’t runnin’ dis shit
Not my mind, or nuthin’ else,
Gon’ an getchu anotha bitch!
When the sky is dark in the early afternoon,
And thunder pounds to inform the full Moon,
To cause the tides to rise with volatility
And informs the winds to dance through the trees,
When the lightening becomes our amassing light,
Not quite enough to overcome the cast of night,
When the silver lining, we seek through the clouds,
Is the only hope that this will turn around,
When the sky’s this dark in the early afternoon
It makes it too difficult to not concede…
And let the rumble of the heavenly djembe drums
Lull me to a restful sleep,
Yemaja dances in the water, and makes big waves.
She protects all her children,
And keeps them safe.
She guides the mariners, to shore
To live another day,
Or takes them with her, as lovers
Under the bay
Her salty flesh refreshes the shores
And her glistening trinkets
Are shone through the storm,
For after the brazen roars of Ogou,
Is a need for the calm and tenders,
In the arms of the Moon
Under a tree,
Liquid lava, beat
Engulfed in breathless,
Akashi left the palace at dawn, before anyone could stop her…
Even dressed in casual attire of a flowing white, sheer cotton, A-line dress, with white leather sandals, her royalty could not be abated. Her maids had bathed, and oiled her dark skin until it shown in the sun. They had placed her colorful, beaded-jewelry on her head, neck, waist and wrist. They had even applied her sacred and royal anklets on her ankles. Before leaving the palace, she removed her royal headdress, and placed it in a potted plant.
Her breast bounced with each swift step. They pressed against the sheer fabric and were large as pomegranates. Her hips were for ever-rounded, since her womanly cycle began 10 years ago. Her womanhood was protected by a thick surface of soft, curly, black bushel which matched her crown hair. Her strong back and callipygian frame remained taunt with each graceful step through the forest.
Her figure-eight silhouette enchanted the men, posing in their animal elements. The birds stepped out of their hiding to watch her float, almost, through the trees. Akashi greeted all as she made her way through the forest as quickly as possible. She was told to never walk without her guardians; nor without her driver, on horse and chariot which pulls her golden, red and purple, satin-lined, Carriage. She imagined her Carriage now, filled with Fonian pillows for a most-comforting ride. She was not thinking of the Chai tea, with milk and honey she could be sipping right now. Nor did she dwell upon the figs, nuts, dates and cheeses she loved so much. She needed to get to her great-grandmother’s burial site.
She pushed massive fans of heavily leaved, pliable branches away from her head of big hair. Still glistening with oil, her wooly hair crowned her head as the sun, and protected her neck and shoulders from smaller flying insects. She made her way westward, away from the palace. In her right pocket, she held her crystals; the ones given to her at birth for protection and from spontaneous transformations which the lower class, who could not afford crystals, suffered. Transforming before others was detrimental to ones’ safety, as it revealed ones’ animal connection and power. It also revealed ones’ lineage. In this multi-ethnic, tribal society, it was important that ones saw you in human form to avoid issues with possible enemies and attack from stronger energies.
She intended to go visit her great-grandmother’s site before the Sun reached its peak of day. With only a few magical words and short ceremony of libation pouring, singing and drumming, she could always evoke her ancestor. Her beautiful great-grandmother always appeared in her normal intricately textile, royal dress, with her golden arm bands, and neck rings to show her Uchawan high-powered status. Her black-as-ebony skin paled only to the gold she wore. Her smooth skin shown and glistened with Shea butter and coconut oil. Her teeth were white as the Ivory tusks of the elephants she rode when she lived on Uchawi. Her full lips were soft and plump; and the color of purple berries. As a gentle spirit, she was known to greet all with love. She was naturally sensual and known for her hypnotic qualities. Her lips were said to be holders of honey, and she would extend them into a brilliant smile to lift her full cheekbones, and elongate her almond-shaped eyes to near slits. No one could deny her. She was known as the most beautiful woman ever lived. And Akashi, who was her mirror image, had huge slippers to fill. She was to be queen as her great-grandmother had been. Such a fate was both scary and nerve-wrecking.
Akashi felt anxious with each step towards her destination. She was losing time quickly.
She needed her great-grandmother’s help. As the daughter of Isis-Empress of the Moon, she was betrothed to the young, Loko, who would become High Priest, since he was the first son of the Dahomey Kingdom, of the great Serpent Damballah, King of the Sun. Only her great-grandmother could stop this bonding to Loko. Only she could approve Akashi’s joining with another.
The sad part is that this article could have been written today, and still hold much relevance!
The United Jewish campaign to raise $6,000,000 in Greater New York alone for the relief of Jews of Eastern Europe ended a few days ago. The amount was over-subscribed by $656,000. The national campaign aims to raise twenty-five million dollars, and from all indications this amount will also be over-subscribed.
The Bureau of Jewish Social Research estimates that there are only 3,600,00 0 Jews in this country, yet their ambition is to raise the enormous sum of twenty-five million dollars; not for their own benefit here, but to send to Europe to help their fellow-Jews who are in need. Such an example of racial love can not be too highly commended, as we ponder over the fellowship of these people, our thoughts return to our own…
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I’ve been smoking cigarettes on and off, for four years now. I like to smoke. I like the rush I feel when the smoke hits my brain and releases endorphins, which calm me as I exhale. I like the taste of my food after a good smoke; it makes everything tastes smoked. I love the taste of the cigarette with a glass of wine, or other spirit. I like the first smoke of the day: It helps calm hunger pains before I eat breakfast. I love smoking in the car: I put my windows down, blare my favorite CD, and get lost in traffic as I blow smoke out the window. I love sitting around with my friends, relaxing to good drink, banter, stories…and my cigarette. Finally, I love a calming smoke after love-making, and before bed.
What I hate is the after smell. I hate having to go to the restroom after every smoke to wash up, to re-apply lotion and perfume. I hate having to brush my teeth more than three times a day. I hate the yellowing color that my teeth are beginning to adopt. I hate wondering if my breath stinks. I hate that my eyes are drier, my skin is less elastic, and I’m starting to look older; even my smile lines are deeper. I hate that I my once, soft, pink lips are darker, and usually dry and ashy. I hate that I’m putting pressure on my lungs and heart. My breath is shorter; and as an avid swimmer, clarinet player and singer, I remember being able to hold my breath notes and keys a lot longer. Now, I’m a raspy-short-breathed jazz singer. All my ballads are reserved for my healing.
So, two-weeks ago, I caught the Head Cold/Flu. This left me struggling with my once 2nd Soprano range. Worse than the head flu is the aftermath of congestion, phlegm, and hoarseness which is bugging the hell out of me! I want my range back. I’ve just been dissatisfied with the way I’ve neglected my health. It’s been on a downward decline. And I knew I needed to take better care of myself. After all, wasn’t I worth it? Was I lying to myself when I would affirm that I loved myself?
So, that was the beginning to the end. The end to smoking cigarettes! I’m strong. I’m the master of my destiny. I waited 3 whole days before I start blogging about it. I wanted to be absolutely sure that I had really quit. I quit. Cigarettes? What cigarettes? I don’t smoke! I don’t smoke! I don’t smoke…
Here’s to my year of progress in wealth, health and accomplishments!
Goddess of Love am I, keeper and giver of love
Wholeness of being, with room for Life
So love is no longer a phantom of God
And God is no longer the phantom of Life
Is love not the wholeness which encompasses The All?
If Life is love and love is Life, then like the Hawk’s wings, it spreads its might
And like the air, its pervasiveness needed
To fill my vessel with harmonious light
In my deepest core,
With its birthing Love
Life, so present, no phantom, no magic
And its darkest wisdom
Of what forms our balance
This ties me to you
Then, now, and ever more
More than just longing infused at my pumping door
A socket for Life’s great and thriving nature
So Life is, when we decidedly intertwine…
In spirit, wholeness, and love divine
And Life is, when your sweet whisper’s cry
Is heard by my ancestors when I reply
And Life is you inside of me
And when I burst all rainbows’ beams
And Life is us, in tight embrace
When we are close or distant space
So Life is that wholeness, we seek to find
Leaving our beings and hang ups behind
A call or whisper of my name,
So we find our bodies, yet again
In Life, and Spirit, and Wholeness within
You are my breath