Pictures Speak 172,000 Words (click for hi-rez)

Sun and Soot

of my lamp and my emotion
provoked along the way
and of my truth
on the surface of the cloak of mourning
and the ponderous dignified rings
of the horseman with the bell
ringing from his elbow
artful, the pastel
of sun and soot on my wall.
~Clément Magloire-Saint-Aude (1912-1971)


"... i grieve for our gone."

When one cannot influence a situation it is an act of wisdom to withdraw*
   Every Black woman in america has survived several lifetimes of hatred, where even in the candy store cases of our childhood, little brown niggerbaby candies testified against us.  We survived the wind-driven spittle on our child's shoe and pink flesh-colored bandaids, attempted rapes on rooftops and the prodding fingers of the super's boy, seeing our girlfriends blown to bits in Sunday School, and we absorbed that loathing as a natural state.  We had to metabolize such hatred that our cells have learned to live upon it because we had to, or die of it.  Old King Mithridates learned to eat arsenic bit by bit and so outwitted his poisoners, but I'd have hated to kiss him upon his lips!  Now we deny such hatred ever existed because we have learned to neutralize it through ourselves, and the catabolic process throws of waste products of fury even when we love.
         I see hatred 
         I am bathed in it, drowning in it
         since almost the beginning of my life
         it has been the air I breathe
         the food i eat, the content of my perceptions;
         the single most constant fact of my existence
         is their hatred . . . 
         I am too young for my history**
   It is not that Black Women shed each other's psychic blood so easily, but that we have ourselves bled so often, the pain of bloodshed becomes almost commonplace.  If i have learned to eat my own flesh in the forest - starving, keening, learning the lesson of the she-wolf who chews off her own paw to leave the trap behind - if i must drink my own blood, thirsting, why should I stop at yours until your dear dead arms hang like withered garlands upon my breast and i weep for your going, oh, my sister, I greive for our gone.
~From Eye to Eye: Black women, Hatred, and Anger by Audre Lorde

*From The I Ching.
**From "Nigger" by Judy Dothard Simmons in Decent Intentions

What Makes A King?

Woah all you nations
A question.
What makes a king?
What makes prospering?
ooh you rebellious
Evidence stands of events facts
Don't leave it unsung
Jah is merited
All eight names in atlas yoke
All earth descendants and influences
Him on earth who maintain the grid
Of togetherness
Specializing in snowballing perceptions
The gathering mass come tumbling
Witches and sorcerers they label them.

In immediate society
Look within
If it isn't true,
Then go fix the wrong way
You made people think.
Things worth of distance
As one gone with
Everlasting Contempt
And everlasting Glory
As they resurrecting in
The current model of excess to be living in
respect the indigenous people in a where they live
redeem the villainous infamy of how you rob and kill
as minimum obligation just freely give
as minimal redeem
please teach rethink
with whips who broke our names right out of our links
and broke civility to animal instinct.

The predetory instinct of take to win,
The seeds of jealousy cultivated,
And shut us galore born out this thing
What of the structure the ends constructed
Purpose full directives
For each one functioning
Soldiers of the long wall
To protect her in  eee ee
Just to protect her in
Selassie I the power of the holy trinity lives
He is.    He is.

Ooh you nations
A question,
What makes a king?
What makes a king?
Ooh you nations
What makes prospering
oooh you rebellious.

Don't leave it unsung
The Emperor is merited
All earth descendants
And influences
Him who on earth
Protect the grid
Its he who on earth protects the sociological grid
The how we are all

OOh all you nations
What makes a king
speak from the secret place of heart?
What makes a king?
What makes a king?

Repost: Praise Jah

No Ocean Bottom Community SIMILAR


Vicissitudes Underwater Sculpture - Grenada, West Indies
Artist Jason de Caires Taylor, with Johanna Fernandez , Ari Merretazon and Tina Varick

yut ah.

Pictures Speak 172,000 Words (click on image for hi-rez)


“I will know the difference when I start seeing these policemen shoot white boys in the back—because they have keys in their hands that look like guns. Then when you ask me that question, I’ll say: ‘We’ve got there.’ If they can do something THAT outrageous and talk to some white parents and say, ‘Oh! Excuse me. I thought it was a gun.’ And when THAT makes sense, then we’re in good shape.”
~Toni Morrison on when she will know that America has made racial progress (via howtobeterrell) 

Repost: Black Lives Are Cheap