"Still Another Day (Reprise)" - Neruda's poem

I start to think of Pablo Neruda's poem everytime it rains.



"We the mortals touch the metals,
the wind, the ocean shores,
the stones, knowing they will go on,
inert or burning,
and I was discovering,
naming all the these things:
it was my destiny to love and say goodbye."



— Pablo Neruda (Still Another Day)





So I infused my own wonders of this quizzical feeling
and came up with this...
A reprise of sorts, adding a few elements of my own.



I think of the words of the Chilean
when mists massage heated Texas panes on my domecile
It sends me to sleep with the rain
I once read this poem on a bus stop, and fell in love with it.
That's what I like about poetry.
She likes to do what she wants, when she wants to...
but only with you.

She falls into your hands.
She comes through many vehicles traveling
through


Solano Trindade
Gwendowlyn Brooks
Langston Hughes
James Baldwin
me...
and the Chilean




I would love to stick my tongue out in this precipitation
gather all of the words poured out by the angels
and swallow the divine spirit of it.
Spit out their truths,
their pain
their adventures amongst us in flesh covered souls
out in these streets to repeat her verses, like

John Lennon vs. The Christ phenomena

Jimi Hendrix and that "stuff"

Open the Doors to See My Family Stone
sitting high upon these hills I feel...
drenched in the thunder and lightning
I'm under their tears
the Orisas grant what we only ask in honesty
so I watch as Sango and Oya pull back the curtains
showering me with love and poetry
and midnight insomnia
and silent dripping
these are my candy coated dreams that won't go away
Speech! In all it's damn glory I am falling...
another day, still another, I am crawling to bed
Angry at sandmen that promised me temporary death
and torture me with impending prophetic breaths.



Why give me liberty late night
and NOT A VISION OF HER?
I long for her love, for she is worthy to be praised
Like a Lord magnified and raised
I imagine her smile and laugh at her downfall...
it is imminent to slide on the wayside
bedside
beside our backsides
I am waiting to kiss the surface of her brown terrain
that layer her spine and lumbar
I desire to smooth my hands inside of her
blend when these celestial bodies are in her grasp
and planets are aligned with my libido

I am stargazing
Needs want to make it to her
Wants then need to bid farewell soon

But comets shoot across skies
to continue to destinations of forever



why

can't

I

She waits for me to call her on stage
I am of fright whilee she is away
It is written, she is scripted
on my heart, by the Chilean artist
He was just adoring nature
giving me a gift that keeps giving
for tomorrow



© 2009 Ifeanyi Okoro II

"Still Another Day" - Poem by Pablo Neruda
(all photos used are not used in slander, defamation, nor crude and explicit forms.)

"A Better Life - (Dreams)"

This is actually a Tweet-turned-poem, originally posted Sunday, July 5, 2009 at 6:02 am.


I will attempt to dream a better life.
I don't think I've ever felt this before.
You know, the effect of love gone awry.
Not of this magnitude.
Or latitude, longitude, or longevity.
Even readings show confusion
As I commenced to cast last night.
Give me strength to fight the weakness of the flesh.
The depths of my inept love still left, for her...
I'm not understanding why she's still in my dreams.
Why I'm trying so hard to move forward
And my heart will not get out of park.
Pulling over in three lanes wanting to lose control at the wheel
Letting go gets harder
Because of my grip on the thoughts of her.
So I grasp no concept of giving up so easily, yet, I'm
Asking ancestors to ease my grip & pain.
I feel they're granting me only one to deal
My dreams are becoming more depressing in a way,
But more informative.
More deforming to my inner child
Birthing angst and worry pushing and contracting
Cutting the cord to sever something I sought that sweet
I'm but a baby in this new found world of hatred of self
Trying to find someone to hold me in this time, I'm cold
In this time I am shivering in uncertainty
In this time her love may be grasped by another God
I'm praying to ignore this.
My hands clasped resemble hers of closed chances
I'm only walking, crawling, clawing, salivating, crying, trying to be
A man
Her man
But this man is not what a dream is supposed to be like
Cause in this life you must dream big to grow
I am stunting my chance to grow cause she's grown on me so much
I'm wrapped with her vines
I am sealed with seven curses of admiration
I am crazy with no form of dignity when dialing
Calling the good sweet ancestors for help
(Not divine anymore I will try to be tomorrow, mama)
When I don't wake up without my dirt
My casket of her thoughts of me
My suit, (mama, she had a suit for me, did you see it?)
My love suits no other for now cause heartache is
Too big of a size for anyone else
But a man can dream, can't he?
And a man can feel can't he?
So I feel this dream dresses funny, so it can't be here, no
Not at this point and time
And spacial tear
And cardiac wear on shoulders so narrow
I want to feel her in my sides as we blend
Shower with her skin to scrub my soul
Suck her tears from her cheeks and blow sandalwood kisses
Back to her heart
I'm not eager to live with continuous torture
I'm overanxious to see where can I die in her memories
To be resurrected from the lips of hers as she speaks of my name
To sleep forever as she marks my tombstone with
Eulogies and epiphanies
Sleep, to temporarily see God in the works
I am in the works or creating a mess of myself, fix me
I love her, but I don't want bad dreams or thoughts about her now.
I will attempt to dream a better life.

Aquarian Questions The Age

Originally posted from Facebook Notes page, Monday, July 27, 2009 at 2:51am.

*I added on a few things today.


Not in all of my 29+ years have I experienced so many variations and declarations of new relationships, marriages, divorces, moving, staying, murders, sudden deaths, births, financial turmoil, and social uprisings. Is the Age of Aquarius staring to show early signs? Is it that nothing surprises us anymore, or that everything will catch us off guard? What makes these snap turns and judgments happen? Why so much quick change? Big names and idols fall harder, as small countries are showing resolve and revolt. What are your opinions? What do you see as the turning point? Or is this just "life" (scapegoat answer)? Is it astronomy and numerology? Is it a system?

*Questions are popping up in my dream and appearing to me in my eyesight. What is it about this year that is spiraling down for this black man in relationships? Why am I still working for peanuts when I am more than the elephant's show? Where will I live next? Is my health in jeopardy? I can only explain the situation hat I've ended up in. Sharing a house, commuting to the job that's only for a short period of time (for meager pay), and being able to get myself together in a slow way. It still feels distant and detached. For now, I will let the ori lead the way. I should have in the beginning. I know now that egun and some helping hands cannot be a deterrent for my situation. The stars don't hold me back, nor does a decision from divination and casting. I am guided by my soul.

How about you? What are you guided by?

"Iya Yansa's Son of Solemn Transition"

This poem was written sometime late 2008. I was in a relationship at the time, and my poetry was strong, but maybe not my heart for some things. Hence, my poetry has fuel in a bad way.

When the zephyrs appear
so shall my tears
flying in formations with liquid wings
Destination: Home
I wish upon a Hollywood cemented sidewalk
for unmolested peace and
fresh new love to lace up and walk in
I've tasted sinful absolution and
indulged in holy atrocities
Egun awaits my test scores for this life
I think I scored high or something to get me buzzed
Some settle like pioneers I
rustle like autumn leaves from Maple
wanting to travel blue highway
rushing to fall asleep, or at least in
a pile of more like I
I've squandered my savings
I've saved records and memorabilia
I've recorded and memorized songs and poems
I've sung praises of others
I've used all of my energy

Ifeanyi Okoro © 2009

"Against Forfeited Feelings"

I'm gonna try something new here...inspired by two people, actually.

Regina Agu, and a blogtastic woman who's Twitter alias is '@slim_goodie'.

I am going to simply empty what comes to mind, within ten minutes or so, everyday. Oh yeah, I will not always follow the English?APA/MLA writing guidelines...so sue me. I'm looking to do this to jog the memory a bit. This might continue past the new years...who knows? I do wanna thank '@nubianwriter' for tweeting about poetry!


the face shows anguish that I cannot see
cannot hear unless it's in my dreams.
It's synonymous with dreary attitudes and
un-heartfelt kisses to the back of the neck
as if it's just a fuck

painting pictures of despair
pays enough for bus fare
a penny for your thoughts on canvas and
spray-tagged walls
graffiti on the bridge if not for spaghetti string dresses with
cling-on pasts and Teflon cares
they snag it from the air

Why sister gotta get no-good
Why sistas gotta bet on no-better?
Weather is whether you like to make it rain
fists and arguments
the affections of the soul and flesh
separated by church and statements of
Jesus working it out
testimony
after ya mans wore it out
test of faith
after ya moms bore you out of second class citizenship love
on the backburner of freedom expressed

by constant depression and distress

I confess,
even my female orisa got me twisted
Changing my mind after i see my queens give brothers brain
then explain the game to the shame he once called (denied)
his son...sometimes daughter...
sum of all things times double the trouble
equals mass hysteria
History repeats, wash, rinse, repeats, spin
doctors trying to work on your self-image without
really examinin' the in.
So pills now become a sin

you pray on Christian Brothers to bring you back again
Come again?
take time to dust off the seat, and not the seated
conceit is only leaving you defeated
i'll be damned if one hasn't sunk to new lows
and old heights of bullshit just to seek closure
or one more screw turn
shades of life isn't skin, or skins, or sags in skinnies
or bling and swag-brag
she can't date your car, nor brand name tag apparel

Man, brothers should be looking to the stars to earn
like astronomers
reaching for the sky without the blunt smoke stack train
off track, but you blow my high for the same damn thing?
what's your point? love/all
stop the racket trying to ball with no court in sight
net gain to maintain our light, right?
but...

ladies, stop trying to pull men's chain about
him pushin' a band on ya finger
marriage is in the mental.
put a ring around that
not a pole on it, for it
fuck it
nor forget it

this here...this shit right here???
is.
so how about that shot of happiness and laughter?
it's an open bar to be raised.
a toast to intoxicated bliss
cheers to no lingering jeers.
Hold on to hands.
on deck
of cards played...two of hearts


Ifeanyi Okoro II © 2009

"Navio Negreiro" - (A Guide to the Caravan To The Ancestors in Galveston, TX, 10/17/09)

First off, before I post this, I must give all praises and thanks to my ancestors (egun), the Orisa, and Olodumare for my being here to do so.

Mojuba!!!

The Caravan to the Ancestors is steadily approaching, the excitement is building, and yet, a few hiccups have been prevalent.

* Apparently, there will be no caravan transportation for large passenger numbers (large buses will not be available)
* A few of the participants are being stubborn in participating, due to religious beliefs (although it has NEVER been a religious majority or omission...I thought we've gone over this, people!!!)
*The weather (although not a hurricane-like situation that Ike presented last year) will be a factor, yet again, for the third time in a row.

However, do you think our ancestors put us through situations to complain and not manage? "Have faith, hope, and charity", as the song says!

The Soul of Copper, Ifeanyi Okoro, has a suggestion or two to go in the spiritual box!

Transportation:
I am going to petition you that are out there with large vehicles and patience to offer your own personal rides into Galveston on the 17th of October, 2009. If it is feasible, offer rides through a small donation request for travel expense per passenger. Galveston is roughly 45 to an hour away from Downtown Houston (3rd Ward being the approximate departure site) and may require, what...30 dollars worth of gas? If you are using a van or suburban - 50? I'm not the greatest of all mathematicians, however, 5 dollars a person, including your own scrilla can ease the transportation issues. Renting a group van at a weekend rate from a rental company (such as Enterprise) isn't bad. If you can find a rental company or someone willing to let you borrow that bad boy right in the hood would be spectacular! Support black-owned if you can!!!! If Greyhound is the way, I tell you now, it doesn't cost more than 30 dollars. Last time I left the H to go to the N.O., it was 88 bucks. Ahem...give or take a few scrillas, what's your excuse?!?! Get the numbers to SHAPE and NBUF to get directions, meet up with potential carpoolers, and also with the organizers. Let's do it, fam!

People, come in all white, for this is how you honor your ancestors. Dress in the appropriate attire. Please, this is not Seven's, Da Spot, or The Roxy. IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT THE ELDERS AND CHILDREN ATTEND. Invite the 'hood out, as well as the enlightened. They will not be at the clubs or pubs that morning, so there is NO EXCUSE. Adults, you are responsible for getting everyone up early and ready, for if you are not late to the club, shall you be late to pay respects to those who bore you into this existence? Your children need to experience this. This has NOTHING to do with not being a Christian, Muslim, Hebrew Israelite, part of the Shrine, Jehovah's Witness, Jesus Christ of the Latter-Day Saints (God forbid), Jesuit, Judaist, Buddhist (not even a religion!), Windows Vista prayers, or whatever...this is about YOU coming to give our physically-departed ancestors their due. Their spiritually-connected ancestry their due. This is revisiting our traditions, whether you like it or not. Forget all of this "I'll pray at home" or "I'll be there in spirit, but I got more important things to do" bullshit. I'm sure while your great-great-great-great-great grandmother was trying to leap off of the ship, chains and all, she wasn't thinking about going to choir practice, nor attending Maxwell 'Live'.

Bring a coat or jacket in the case of inclement weather. I mean it IS Texas weather. It will be predictably cool in the morning, but so beautiful when it breaks open. Yemoja has a wonderful way to wake you up with gulls, doves, and the Gulf waters rushing to the sands. Oh my God, feel the breeze, my people! It is sooooo beautiful. Oya found ways to make things happen regardless of if she switched up the spot a month before. Last year it was held at Dupree Park in the heart of 'The Trey' (3rd Ward)

Blankets and something to read for the children that will sure to be trying to divert your attention from the rituals and devotionals. Really, you SHOULD have them participate. There is no Soulja Boy or Wayne here, so the box is dead. If the Caucasian people can stroll on by and take pictures, gawk, stare, and sometimes try to invite themselves into this 12-year long event, why can't our OWN???? That is another thing, DO NOT EXCLUDE BLACK GALVESTON RESIDENTS!!! Drag their tails here if you see them.

So you see, hiccups can be cured, if you hold your breath, and be patient. Then? Well, release.

I haven't been to the caravan since '05...I think the drought MUST cease for me. People attend the caravan from outside of Texas, and it steadily grows every year. Louisiana, Oklahoma, Florida, New Mexico, South Carolina, etc. I think one year we had some family come from Washington State! People do participate and hear from this in Africa as well, especially the Nigerians that happen to know a couple of NBUF and SHAPE supporters.

My people, it is high time we put these excuses and schisms behind, and start working together. Brother George Jackson probably could have said it much better than I could have relayed it, (may he rest with the ancestors), but now is the time! Remember, this is to celebrate their safe voyage amid the perils that awaited them here.

I encourage that you hear the song "Navio Negreiro" and meditate...
For the memory will never leave us.


Mojuba to Baba Sangogbemi and Iya OsunBunmi for their dedication and work towards this event!
Ase-o!!

Q & A Games

So last night we played the "What If..." game. It was interesting because what I thought would be said in an abnormal conversation (if there is such a thing with me) was all laid out. She admitted that I wasn't boring, and that she wanted to know more of me. More about me. My admiration for her increase daily, however, there looms an overwhelming feeling that there's going to be some type of rapid change that will smack either one of us square in the head. Speaking of which, I like to poke fun at her head, although it's the cutest :) But, I digress.

The strong emotions I feel are unreasonably growing through talking and building. The game we played brought up future children, relationship tooling, and location. I'm not entirely sure if this is a fantasy waiting to fuck me up royally in the end, or something that is a delayed reaction from painful experiences, into a blossoming revelation of happiness. Oya is right there between us. Our ancestors are right there circling us. It's almost like a tussle for trust. A rumble for real affection.

The "What If" game brought to my attention some things in her past and my past that weren't pretty by any means, but that was the beautiful thing about it. We were ugly in our living because of the energies we were allowing to occupy our souls at that time. It's scary not hearing her, not feeling her by me, not being able to see her everyday in my dreams. We share dreams like pizza, and wash them down with interpretations. This game brings out the best and worst in us, and we play it without hesitations on finishing. We take turns asking and answering "What If" questions like it is an inning in baseball. Better yet, if one of us doesn't have anything ready to ask, it's like a turnover in football, or basketball. Possession is held by the next person. Doubled up. No fouls given. No ejections. We laugh, we contemplate, and we definitely reflect.

That's what's scaring me. The last time I felt this happy, I ended up in a relationship that stung after the initial break-ups, and the final one was like a foot on my neck. From the outside looking in, it doesn't seem like she's looking for lofty goals, but I'm realizing that the more we spread out our desires, the less I am holding off the doubts. I don't like doubting. I don't like fear.

I am a night person...and also an early morning person as well. Hell, if I'm up, I'm up. I love talking (as you can tell) and reading poems and quotes to her. She asks me to sing, and yet I'm not the best person to belt one out. LOL Hell, I'm just singing because my momma sang. I love melody. This woman is putting it back in for me. I have my own tune. She likes it. Question is, "What If" I am not supposed to sing to her? Hell of a question, right? I'm so affixed on her, that I want to submerge my emotions inside of her abyss of pleasure. I sang for my ex a few times, but I never really thought she was receptive. She claimed she loved it. I only sing when I play Capoeira, or when I'm teaching the children in the program new corridos (shorter, verse-laden Capoeira songs) When I read my poems to her, she is seemingly floored. Most of my newer poems are inspired by her. A renewal of my spirit, of sorts. I honestly couldn't muster up a true poem for my recent ex, nor any one of my exes for that matter, because it never came. My inspiration (or muse) usually is not the one I'm seeing or trying to marry. Why the hell is that? As she would say, "We have to remedy that, right away."

We fall asleep talking to each other. We sometimes don't even sleep. If at all costs, we're constantly doing everything that we'd do daily, and just add each other into the equation along the way. One time we talked for 18 hours...I swear it felt like it. It effects our work and our thoughts at times, so we try convincing each other that we must go to sleep. I wish she would, so that way she could tell me more about her dreams. Hopefully, we'd meet inside of each other's dreams and share a bowl of blissful ice cream, you know. She claims that she had a dream eerily (or prophetically) about a person similar to me. I can't tell you if it was accurate or not, because what stopped me was the fact that the first letters of my first and last name (although reversed) matched the person in her dreams. Not to mention the fact that one name was Igbo, and the other was Yoruba. Oddly enough, I study Ifa, and my name is Igbo.

I love her writing. I wish she'd write more. It seems like a female version of my life, minus some horrific experiences that were placed upon her. I don't think I'd be alive, or out on bail if I went through that shit. Maybe it's something about women who've been through pain that attracts me to them, because I feel as if I have to redeem. I think I'll be bold enough to perfect my craft, just because she's not so restrained in telling her story. I should be so lucky to live through and be more confident. She gives me that confidence.

"What If" this is right? "What If" I'm choosing door number 3 in a fail?

Know what's funny? My ex's children had a game we all played called "Imaginiff".

"Imaginiff" (Imagine if) I actually stopped living in my head and started living for the now.

Is her heart the "now"?

There Can Be Only One...(It Takes A Nation of Millions To Hold Me Up) - Oya Energy?

This is getting addictive. Same old Ifeanyi. Making his heart visible for the seemingly unreachable. Giving solely because he feels that he needs to. Sticking his hand out to pull up the downtrodden fellows. Something about my energy that drives up the stakes for my soul. Can you grasp any concepts, Mr. Okoro?

Oya doesn't see me as a forgotten child, so why do I find myself in the midst of someone else's change? Particularly, another child of hers? Those that features and motions point to Yansan's protected, amongst the streets and schools and neighborhoods? I like how energies like ours connect. I think maybe it's destined to meet with these Oya children and make use of our time. Now, I'm trying to transform into a better being. Eating better, working out once again, and trying not to worry as much, if at all. My heart, however, always interferes with progress. I lose massive amounts of weight when near depression after a heart-aching experience, I lose focus on my job when I am deal with its issues, and, worst of all, I alienate a lot of my current friends. Is that how it's played for me? I must admit I do like to be alone on some fronts, but not all the time. Last night, this shining star and I talked about being alone and how it hurts the soul and physical condition. Oddly enough, my ex never wanted to sleep alone, even when we got into huge arguments. Her children even wanted us to stay together in the room (mainly so they could stay with us). I miss it. Not the arguments, but the company. Feeling someone cuddle (yeah, I said 'cuddle', and I despise the word, even 'snuggle' has me kinda eh...) under you. I even used the word to describe what I needed to feel emotionally.

When I live alone, there is no worry. I live far apart from society, or someone that knows me. Not on purpose. It just happens that way. I dated Xaviera, and I moved out of 3rd Ward. When I broke up with her and she solidified my trust in her as shady business, I reaped what I've sewn in being alone and was evicted. I literally was evicted by Hurricane Ike to move into my recent ex's apartment. We stayed together until we just couldn't see eye to eye. In her mind, I was behind, and in my mind, I needed time to reassert myself with her. She settled for another person she previously knew and desired, and I again was evicted, but by her this time. I stayed with friends pretty much for 4 years. Even my sister. That took a while, cause I separated myself from my family. Another thing we've talked about. People of African descent thinking they are disgraced for staying with their family. What else can be done to bring separated family together, other than death? Marriage? Graduation? Even when trying to start a new family, such as my last attempt this past year that was unsuccessful, it's something that we look down upon. I even frowned at being with anyone after my recent break up, because I wanted to start over again, by myself, and no one to give me any lectures, speeches, or get well soon card sentiments. I wanted to be isolated. Is that bad? In a spiritual way, yes, because you decide to be bitter and encased in solitude to the point that you harbor bad feelings, even if the energy called for the relationship to cease, for now, or for good. Why get mad and set yourself away from your people?

In '08, I left a job that paid exceedingly higher than my current job ever did when I worked for them in the past as well. Yet, this job was a family that had dysfunction. The current job has very little problems, (actually it just started to surface now) and the children are just as receptive and loving as were the previous ones at the old job. There are parents that still consider me a father to their children because of my methods and ways I loved them. But I have no children from my being. I am a father-in-waiting. I deal with this one young man named Clay and he's constantly struggling to get shit right in his life. He calls for support, and I'm spreading myself so then, that I can't offer it to him when I really need to. It makes me seem as if I failed him. He does some knuckle-headed things, yet I really wanted him to settle down and think for a moment on the situation he puts himself through. He's like my oldest son. I hope that he can right the ship, but his timing is off in this fucked up world. Now's not the time to start getting it how you live. Time to reflect and then repair. Can I take my own advice? Am I having these dreams about children from my past for a reason? When will I be able to have a son or daughter? I would itch and scratch forever for a daughter.

I constantly desire to talk with Oya in person, or in spirit to see if I'm screwing my destiny away, or if I'm getting closer, but she's busy putting my scenes of my life together. I feel like the more I try to separate and be by myself, the more I develop a sickness, or some malady. Or a blockade. I've even lost 300 bucks to a woman, trying to move out into 3rd Ward again. What's that about? So I've assessed that there are meaningful and painful changes up ahead for me. I'm not sure if my karmic debt is settled yet, however I know I'm losing my direction after losing my religion (but when you let go of false things, someone or something should be there to pick up you and guide you...right?) So I've abandoned Christianity and left the method of respecting the ancestors' ways of surviving to that faction. I've abandoned being scared and started writing and typing and being more open to others. But where's my next step?

I want to venture out. Chicago, Illinois? Bahia, Brasil? Aba, Nigeria? Underground? This is the time that I need to die and be reborn. Mentally, I'll be better for my phoenix-ing. Rising from the ashes. I help people out to extend my life-force past forever. Yet, I'm slowly dying inside. Needing the backing that me and the shining star talked about late last night/early this morning. What must be done for me not to throw all of my efforts to everyone and that NOT be the last attempt to spread my soul around to everyone. I can't save or soothe everyone. And even when I need it, like the surrounding of family, friends, and loved ones...I cannot usurp it. Why? Where are my millions to hold me up? Just one true soul. All I need.

Tree of Life and Love

Under the Weeping Willow Tree we meet
Conversing with verses that are matched versus
the Words of Man
In the World of God
We share smiles similar to similes that mirror our affection for each other
Dark and lovely like 'universal forevers' echoed in the canals of ears
In the annals of time
Confined to this Earth with your lips pursed,
Eyebrows raised and hands extended interlocking with mine as roots would sacred soil
Deep stares I dare levy upon you to let your love sweat love out of its pores
For a heartbeat concedes to both of our inner selves breathing in each other's air
Even before wanting mouths explore and tongues so African reconnect
I resurrect amorous psalms and proverbs before your presence
Like limbs and leaves erect,
Letting the ori omit opposites of bliss and Oya
bless me with your breezy, easy calm
Before the storm of passion
fruit bares truth
You supply the sunshine lemonade made ready for consumption
as both our spirits bump your soul's selection
Under the rocking of the arbor's dressing
Feeling vibrations
We connect like Bluetooth
underneath the roof of the stars and heavens
Video strides I take to shake the visible blues
Ebbing and flowing to this day
Your hips directional sway,
makes my afternoon
Just before night swoons to daybreak
My ways with words are sometimes diverted by
Exploratory detours when the minds meet
Negativity's grinders causing mentality to
Ground and insatiable insanity to inflate upwards.
However, conversation that sate your thirst for edutainment
cannot delay me in wait...to drink you and I,
Smiles and all, knotted not in a carving of this tree's rough bark
In a flask not fit for mortals and men so petty to spark the not so slick spiel
So sleek that we grasp these emotions with grip tight rubber gloves
And hope that love won't slip from our celestial hands above.
This tree we congregate, spitting seeds of wisdom into the air
Sprouting elements of freedom and
Succulent visions of dusty domains we once called home
Represents strength in its branches that hold in our anger
And the stumps that lay roots sap our pains away
We now wail with the winds and cry desire from our pores
We dare rest here, beneath the shadow of the giant
Spooning like we forgot fruit pieces in serving bowls
Thanking the ancestors for become a blanket of eyes over us
watching the recreation of God
Take place
In a space reserved for
Nature.
Do not park here.

Universal Verse Reversal - (She Is)

I am below below when she makes me feel above and I am not beside

She

I am climbing a climb endless ladder-high as I try escaping trapping eyes from

She

I am tied tight to my tongue's twists try to describe cryptic Coptic casing that is

She

She
Hangs on my copper limbs
I grow oil soil with thoughts of her black/slick
I scale to the skies
I am deeper than six feet
digging her whole persona
Reversing my patterns,
Reversing my position, my words,
My love will not stay in park, it's not even in neutral
My drive is there, however,
And there is no brake, no stopping, no rear view
My past is miles back of me
She uses deception in a receptive way
She likes what I say to her when I sing her soul to sleep
With my heart beat on the percussion
My mind on the spirit's sax
Under cardiac arrest
With trumped up charges of trumpet playing crimes
She chimes in with cymbals systematically
This is a grand band soothing her wounds
Swept away with Yansa's broom

I am guilty

She calls for me in the wind and dials up the number

She has my number

I am caught up

A rapture of reciprocity when I deliver my affection

It comes back to take me

She

I am beneath beneath the Earth
She is my fertile ground to keep me rooted
Even as we bear fruit from our roots up.

I stay grounded with her.

She

I am around the round solar symbol of myself
With my faith in my flares and my color as my God
I make my people brown-black-blue-red-yellow-goldenrod
When she mixes with me
I see we two hues make human
And humanity make humility their pledge to us
Under the skies that scream ancient praises
As we kiss the sky
Every morning

I am connected from the disconnected distances that only keep me from

She

I am longing for the short time that is between our meeting place on this Earth's face until I hold

She

I am reversed to birth cause I'm dying to love...

She.

I am sent back to Earth cause Heaven isn't itself without...

She.

I am without motion's emotions until the axis spins to rotate the beginning again with...

The last of the last 09-09-09 (Part Two)

Some people are just born to be against the grain, and all for the wrong reasons, shall I add. I just saw the Republican Party (Once Radical Republic, now just "Republi-cons" of the Trans-reformers... "More than health care odds") have their own good ol' South Carolinian hardhead Wilson shout out at the Pres. of these States Unified, calling him a liar. Of course, he got some looks form the "Auto-bamas" and a few from his own Republicons. In actuality, it's very legal to say what you will, seeing that free speech is a joke, and that it was only made for certain people of the hierarchy (i.e. rich, white men that had land and power). In other terms, shoes and bullets were used to express disgust (Bush and Reagan respectively). A babalawo once mentioned that the assassination of this new pres will be solely one of character. Why are people surprised? Obama can play this "I'm calm and cool" role if he likes, but the views of many that are sharing his skin, his past, and furthermore, his dream that seemingly is tanking by the second is now becoming dimmer and dimmer.

No respect for self. What was Obama doing this month? Taking heat about a speech encouraging the youth to pursue happiness through education and perseverance. No, he's taking the high road. Everyone mark your calendar when this great prophet...excuse me, chosen man didn't address Gates' arresting officer in a manner of chin-checking, position of power-wise. The flood gates have opened. You have natural born idiots that don't like to use common sense in consulting their ancestors or even some spiritual signs that appear to them. Here, I would have sent this cat to Ogun, or Esu to shut his ass up. No. Obama is trying his best to go Obatala's route, without using Obatala's strategy in thinking. Action won't take place without proper planning. He's balking on the Gitmo and Guantanamo Bay situations. he's not calling up the World Court on Bush and his cohorts for their part in the illegal capture and torture of suspects. Innocent ones, mind you.

Oya's watching and waiting tonight, throwing caution to the wind Obama is twirling in. He might want to gain his respect back by not letting a party push him and his image around. Then again, most of us good colored folk idol worship Jay Z and his "bride", Lil Wayne and Drake, watch Tiny and Toya, Really Asinine Housewives of ATL, and continuously dine on swine and slop. Our outside appearances are banged up through the inside. Oya wants you to be true. I've crossed over into the 9-10-09 date now in typing this. It's as if we're drinking all of this shit down and calling it a cure for the flu our minds have processed to believe we have. "Massa, we's sick?" America is built on September crashes and burns. The Titanic - September 1st.
German troops invade Poland as well as bomb their airfields.
Libya's Bloodless Coup
The world was changing. We're complaining about jobs and shit, yet we're not even stopping to see what the hell anyone else is thinking about our haughty, extravagant lifestyle. I'm awaiting this next day...just to see what transpired as a result of the last single digit ten spots are gone until 2101. (Not finished - TBC)