Malcolm is our historian. Thank you for telling the truth. I love you infinitely.

I just want to dance. Will you dance with me?

My mother bought me a writing bench that had a little red seat attached to it. There was a chalk board on top and underneath was a white board where I could use markers and wipe it clean when i got a new idea. It had regular paper, construction paper, chalk, an eraser and markers. It was my most prized possession.

I was about 4 years old. Man, I was so proud to sit at that bench. That was the only seat I sat in that my feet touched the floor. It felt like the bench was custom made for me. So much of my time was spent there day dreaming and writing about water and rocks and white curtains.

When we came home from anywhere I would take my shoes and socks off and run straight to that bench to recap everything that happened outside of apartment 5L. You didn’t know writing is better with bare feet? Purpose comes from the bottom up.

Lions, elephants and koala bears. Peanut butter with crackers. Moccasin slippers with wool lining. Mommy sweeping around me and my bench while “ain’t nuthin going on but the rent” played in the backgroud. This is what I remember. I was always in the clouds. Always in the clouds on a magic carpet that was my pencil and paper.

I’d live wherever I wanted and have all the animals I saw in the zoo in my backyard. I’d have an aquarium that was bigger than any I’d ever seen. Mommy and I would live together forever. She would make spaghetti and sweet potato pie every night. Nothing would be wrong in our lives.

All my dreams had to come true. It was just a matter of time. I figured that I could put these things in motion once I was able to cross the street by myself.

I would write about how much I loved my mother. She was the best person in the world to me, but I never wanted to be like her. I always had my own identity. My whole life was mapped out at that desk. I was going to write until I fell asleep every day. I would draw until the world ran out of colors. There would be an answer to my every question. Not just “cause I said so.” There was nothing that I wanted more than to be at the desk day dreaming about what was to come. I was only 4.

Today I’m 28 and that little girl was so much more certain than this grown woman. The confidence she had was waivered by nothing. Life was one thing and one thing only; her oyster. How did she do it? Why was she so sure? How did she know everything that I don’t?

Recently I was told that I’m not the same woman I used to be. He said that I’m just surviving and not living. He should have met me in 1985. I was something to reckoned with. I wish I was half the woman that little girl was.

Today’s tip: Be who you were as a child.

How did the damp atmosphere steal you away?
Its wet enough on this side of town
I know you got work to do man, but I wanna work too

The bayou has my baaybay and my stillness
Cause I don’t rest without him
Every moment filled with thoughts
The past…intriguing , now… satisfying, tomorrow…ignited

If I my close my eyes real tight I see you
smell you
feel you
My body screams for your whisper
My heart pounds for your call
Somebody tell the big easy that this is a little too hard

Give him back or take me too

Down goes Frazier

Years, light years, lifetimes rusted from the constant flow of tears, sweat, blood.
Push thrice, but only once for me. The other two were left to another. But I was left to count backwards from 10.
Life’s liquid drowned our love.
Its fine now. No really it is. I don’t look to replace you
There’s no one to fill your shoes. The stature is yours alone that can cast such a shadow, but its time I step into the light.

Dear Heart,

Today has changed my life. I can only pray that you have some idea. There is triumph in my stride today because I feel your eternal life force. There has never been a better friend. No one else speaks the words from my lips. You were born for me and here I am because of you. I pay homage on this day, the days prior and every day after. Because of you I have the lion’s share of life.

I am enthralled by you. The flex in your voice has captivated me. The power in your stature is mesmerizing. How can you be only of flesh and blood? This shell is too weak to hold you. This world is too staggering. Though I release you I never let go. Neither have you. As above so below. Because of you I am Malcolm X.

Happy Birthday Omowale.

We are all creatures of habit and since the beginning of time there has been this perpetual behavior by the male of our species. From the dawn men were hunters, fighters, and the leaders of nations. Their very biological make up is that of strength, bravery and will. So riddle me this…where’s all that strength when it comes to matching the effort put forth by women to make a relationship work? The book of life is full of testimonies of the broken hearted. Generations of matriarchs, like clay hardened, waiting for their affections to be recipricated only to find that time has stood still for their male counterparts. It’s an age old tale of disappointment.

Our daughters are taught not to trust the very ones that are here to love and care for us. We drill in them the certainty of being abandoned in hopes that they will be impenetrable. Our mothers are the commanders teaching us to be soldiers on love’s battlefield. It doesn’t matter though, the tears of the devestated can fill the Grand Canyon 100 times over. Mine alone can fill one.

We wait and wait and wait….for things to “straighten themselves out.” We hold our breath awaiting the day he will give even a fraction of what we have. To no avail in most cases that day never comes. So my question is, since men do what they do when will there be the woman who is ok with it? I mean, if this is some inate behavior in men, why can’t we accept it? Have we been europeanized? Have we been too romanticized? If men and women are a complementary pair why doesn’t this feel complementary? Is love a fantasy? Should we aim for practicality instead? Why are so many lives in turmoil all in the name of love? Why are there so many who wait in vain?

It ain’t hard to tell that I’ve been in a pretty foul mood these days. The grim reality of being Black in this concrete wilderness has been eating away at me like a termite to a wood foundation. There has been a cloud of defeat looming overhead.

Anyway, the yearning for liberation is pounding in me. african-americans may say “liberation”? Didn’t Abraham Lincoln sign the emancipation procla whatever? You ain’t a slave.” On the contrary we, are and as long as we are here we will continue to be enslaved. We are given choices, but no options. The shackles have been replaced with a capitalism and the klu klux klan now wears blue uniforms instead of white sheets. Times haven’t changed just because there’s brown skin in the white house. The struggle our forefathers fought is the same one we are fighting. Well, we’re not fighting. This is a massacre. I feel like the lone soldier trying to convince the dying that they have been attacked. I have been feeling like an army of one.

Well here’s where my attitude changes. The Qu’ran says that oppression is worse than death. Malcolm said that the price of freedom is death. This warrior has no uncertainty about paying that price. This is by no means a suicidal statement. No intervention neccessary. I’m just ready for the shit to hit the fan. You know when you get that burning inside when you’re ready for anything. That’s me right now.

Its war!!! I’m sick of these teetering negroes, bootlicking and shuckin and jivin. The greatest challange in life is picking a side. The most important things have no room for ambiguity. Yay or nay… what say you?