whenquiet on 90 FINE!! (Happy Birthday Trib… thepetalpusher on 90 FINE!! (Happy Birthday Trib… whenquiet on 90 FINE!! (Happy Birthday Trib… whenquiet on Two Seconds whenquiet on Things that make me go “…
- African American History
- african american poetry
- black history
- black voices
- cancer challenges
- Childhood Reflections
- Cultural Pride
- International Travel
- jazz vocalist
- justice for michael brown
- Life Perspective
- mental health
- olive tree cultivation, annoying neighbors, meditation, spirituality
- Poetry and stories
- police brutality
- pre/post chemotherapy
- Unforgettable Teachers
in conflicting waves
Skeletons of past discord
Rattling as the war is waged.
You must be tired
Of seeing black hands against the wall
Up in the air
Blood seeping into ground
Mingles with water
Recycled to quench thirst of murderer’s daughter.
Lord, you must be tired
That the puzzle’s still left undone
They still don’t get
That Jesus is your son.
Lord, I am tired
of seeing the same ol’ script
Today a gun
Yesterday, a whip.
Tired, yet unafraid
Because evil will not win…..
JUSTICE FOR MICHAEL BROWN!
No, it’s Giuseppe Ungaretti,(1888-1970), the late italian modernist poet, critic and essayist, born in Egypt and raised by a Nubian nanny who wrote the following poem, No More Crying Out, a poem which I feel, reflects the present American social climate concerning the slaying of Black men by police. This photo bears an uncanny resemblance to actor Laurence Fishburne, once, affectionately nicknamed “Fish”
by Giuseppe Ungaretti
Cease murdering the dead.
If you hope not to perish, if you
Want sound of them again,
Stop crying out, cease
The crying out of it.
They have barely heard whispering,
No more that the increase of grass
Happy where no man passes.
CONGRATULATIONS TO MY NIECE, MILON GREENE, NEW HARAMBEE QUEEN OF LENOIR, NORTH CAROLINA, AND MY AUNT DONNA E. WILLIAMS, FORMER LT. COLONEL IN USA AIR FORCE FOR HER MANY ACCOMPLISHMENTS. THANK YOU FOR HONORING THESE TWO FABULOUS WOMEN!
JUSTICE FOR ERIC GARNER
As an African-American female residing abroad, I can attest to uncomfortable, racially incited situations involving police officers, border police, albeit, authority figures, in Europe and Stateside. For the record, I have had to initiate legal intervention as a result of situations that simply speaking, “turned bad”. Racially unbalanced realities of life for African-Americans, including the historical causes and effects, often creeps into conversations among colleagues. I highly recommend that folk read the controversial and enlightening psychological observations of renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Frances Cress Welsing(Cress Theory of Color Confrontation), and the study of melanin as being an inherent trait for superiority. The entire system of racism is to ensure white genetic survival.
The dominance of African-American males in prison is inherently connected to the system of white racist supremacy. Our black men continue to be attacked, targeted, imprisoned, and killed in a systematic strategy of black annihilation. Bitter food that does not have to be swallowed. This very significant conversation should remain priority.
For the Lives of Those Taken
by Anna Greene Dell’Era(All Rights Reserved)
My Brother, Brothers, Sister, Sisters
We see and feel from an ancestral groan
the abyss through which your life filtered down.
We struggle to understand, yet hold fast to faith.
It is not man we fight, but principalities of evil.
We remain vigilant, educated, careful and wise.
We continue to procreate.
We continue to laugh, to sing, to lift up God’s name.
We continue to dance.
Because we will not remain soaked in a mire of bloody grief.
We lift up your name, names, Brother, Brothers, Sister, Sisters.
We have not forgotten
But continue to rise and harvest the fruit!
by Anna Greene Dell’Era
(All Rights Reserved)
It must be nice to walk without a lot of weight
Must be calming to have others observe your gait
Must be intriguing to lie down without the stomach taking much space
Must be empowering to blow the nose without water spewing in your face.
When I return after my life is through,
Possibly as a sparrow or a mule, I will fly, screeching sighs, or stubbornly and anxiously carry
multitudes of lies, Or maybe I will simply return as a tree, roots embedded to generations of
yore, spirits of degradation, Whispering, “They owe you more!’”
I am an elephant and walk with the gait of a queen, experience not to be denied, wisdom
revealed as in the eyes of an owl, and on the falcon’s wing.