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An Overgrown Pond


 

 

 

An OverGrown Pond

 

Where the Koi Jumped for Joy into the sky for the water comes from the sky then returns to the sea

Pistons, electrons, neutrons

 

 

 

 

 

By a Picnic Table caught up in sand

Beside a Piano wrapped around a tree

Where I had cracked an egg filled with red ants over his face

Where once I had tried two more times to plant myself on the portico of the place I had lived posthumously

Every day he would come to the drawing room dressed in a new wig and caftan ready to work on his latest illustrated sonata.

His goal ~~ The Chapel where the outline of an over grown cherub with upturned mustaches, a five o’clock shadow, cigar and swollen gonads graced the ceiling

 

In Her Long Flowing Caftan expectations were high.  Higher than ever before

As she crafted her Caftan Swung to and fro in the Breezes

Swirling & Twirling like a dance in Homage to the Muses and Goddesses of Ancient Times

Swaying Sometimes Billowing Out

Billowing Waving Flapping in Upturned Winds

Powered by gusts of frenetic kinetic energy her billowing Caftan swept over the town and villages spitting out flags, Semi-phores, and coded messages to family cemeteries

Leaving behind satisfied scripts which she added to her burgeoning collection

 

Sending Signals across the Mesa

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then the Joyful Koi began to play Ragtime 

They jumped up and struck the keys in sequence creating beautiful melodies

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Whose Flag?


Whose Flag?

 

Whose Flag? The flag that ignited the Trail of Tears and condemned my Native American Ancestors far from their Promised Land?

The Flag that ignited Manifest Destiny and stole, robbed, cheated and raped millions of Indigenous peoples to broken treaties, destruction and death.

The Flag that ignited the slave ships of the Middle Passage where my African Ancestors were kidnapped from the Motherland. Denied their heritage. Their religion. Their customs and traditions.  And what of those thrown overboard as so much excess baggage.  Or the others who jumped rather than condemn generations to slavery and Jim Crow.

The Flag that ignited the Dred Scott decision telling us we are only 3/5ths of a man? Where are we in the signing of the Declaration of Independence? Do you see any Native or African Americans in those paintings? Not even any women!  So do we salute a flag, a symbol of colonialism, slavery, Jim Crow and racism? Since we were not included by the Founding Fathers most of whom were slave owners?

http://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/dred-scott-decision

Do we honor a flag that forced my parents, grandparents and great-grandparents to get off the sidewalk when white people approached? Get to the back of the bus. Settle for sub-standard schools and housing. Forced sterilization which was done throughout the Southern Bible Belt states.

The flag of Dixie-crat racist Strom Thurmond whose death revealed the Black Daughter he had kept hidden for nearly 70 years?

Read the story of Fanny Lou Hamer one of the Mothers of the Civil Rights Movement.

 

 

 

 

What of our white Sisters and brothers like Murders of Chaney, Goodman, and Schwerner up to and including Heather Heyer? White Americans who fought evil and lost their lives. Does the flag represent them?

Does this flag represent the two Indian engineers who were murdered or the Chinese doctor who was dragged from his airplane seat?

Did that flag represent the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882.

https://www.ourdocuments.gov/doc.php?flash=true&doc=47

http://www.history.com/topics/chinese-exclusion-act

What of the Japanese Americans who were stripped of all their worldly goods and sent to camps just because they resembled the enemy?  And By the Way who is our enemy?

What of the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama–a church with a predominantly black congregation that served as a meeting place for civil rights leaders where  Four young girls were brutally killed.

What of the the nine who were murdered last year in South Carolina during a Bible study by one whom they welcomed as a fellow Christian but who turned out to be a demon.

Tell me again why I should put my hand over my heart or in my case salute since I am a U.S. Army Veteran for this flag. This flag who denied my Korean War Veteran Dad who was in uniform and hungry. Who tried to get a hot dog and the white man said we don’t serve Niggers?

Tell me why this flag and this country whom my Great, Great Grandfather William Henry Halstead who fought in the Civil War still denies it’s promise to me and all his descendants?

Did and was this flag the covering for the slave master who barged into my Great, Great, great, great Grandmother’s slave cabin late at night and forced himself on her?

Did and was this flag the covering and excuse for the Married Redneck Drill Sgt coming to my barracks and calling my name after hours?

Tell me again why we honor this flag and why does this cloth not live up to it’s promise to ALL Americans?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Featured

It’s My House & I Live Here


Don’t Come for Me because I’m not afraid to Rock that Orange Jumpsuit!!

You can’t agree with everyone and you won’t but if something upsets you that badly there is always the Unsubscribe, Restrict, Block, UnFriend, or UnFollow options!! Sometimes I do make general observations about what I see on Facebook or Social Media in general but believe me I’m not losing any sleep over what you or anyone else posts. Why? Because I will kick you to the curb in a hot minute before I allow anything to interfere with my ability to eat, sleep or carry on my daily activities. I have and will continue to Delete Off-base Comments at My discretion. Why? Because this is my Blog.

It’s My House & I Live Here! (Apologies to Diana Ross.) Unfortunately I must disable comments on any type of political or racial blog posts because of the haters, flamers & trolls. Not trying to hear asshole bullshit.

There is no reason for arguments and twisted dialogue trying prove me wrong and you right. I’ve noticed over the last six years I usually get a lot of bullshit comments and just plain stupid ass statements when I post something concerning race relations in the United States. Obviously or maybe it isn’t to some narrow minded people my perspective is that of a Black Woman in America. Emphasis on Black.  On that note given what has been going on in the USA over the last few weeks I’ve made some decisions to be part of the solution.

Joined the NAACP

Make small donations to Black Lives Matter. Yes I unashamedly support the Movement. Don’t Like it. Lump it or follow the previous instructions. Close the door on your way out.

I have a thick skin. Keep in mind working in a white environment. Living in a white country if I took to heart every insult, slight, just plain dumbass statement that white people make I would have committed suicide a long time ago. However everyone who knows me that if you step to me I don’t back down from a challenge. Very few people mess with me without experiencing some sort of consequence. I’m peaceful up to a point. My parents did not raise a doormat. Being a Christian does not make me a push-over nor will it silence my voice. It’s not all peace, love and light with me. Get. Over. It.  My circle is small and I keep it that way.

This is My House and I Live Here!!

BTW being Pro-Black does not mean being anti-white. It does mean looking out for your own people in world where any one of us can be executed, exterminated or annihilated at the whim of sadistic police.  Cops who have been given a free pass to do away with an entire race just based on their biased stereotypes. Cops who know that there will be no consequences for their actions. They may get put on some type of administrative leave but they still collect their paychecks while those Black families who lost their Loved ones struggle to bury them, take care of children left behind and must live with a hole in their hearts forever.  My house is on fire so I must take action.

Racism has been real for me my entire life. From the day I was sussed to white school and sat next to a red haired white kid and the first word out of his mouth was nigger to a few years ago when a white co-worker attempted to assault me at the job. Thanks to my U.S. Army training I got the guy off me.

It’s real people. It’s real. That white co-worker after threatening another white co-worker was “allowed” to retire. That means he can come back to the job anytime. That means next time might be my last time.

Will there be a hue and cry from white America if I disappeared from the scene. Honestly. No. Just like on Sunday white people will go to their respective churches. Worship a white Jesus and go on with their lives. After all Black Lives have No Value in America. Stone. Cold. Hard. Honest. Truth.

#BlackLivesMatter

Black Lives Matter

Kevin Hart INSPIRATIONAL Interview At The Breakfast Club Power 105.1 (6/10/2016)

Featured

Baby Boy


He looked like an Angel albeit a broken Angel splayed out on the cold marble floor. His head at angles with his twisted body along with his staring unseeing eyes extinguished any hope that the embers of life still burned within him.  The earth came up to meet him and swallowed him into the heavens.  The Benjamins make a poor parachute.

Cupid shot by his own Arrow.
Cupid shot by his own Arrow.

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Baby Boy

Baby Boy Got $200 sneakers as a reward for cussing the teachers and failing in school. Teacher or principals fault. Grades all F but it ain’t me you fucked up can’t you see! School’s for Fools. Some place I don’t want to be.

Baby Boy he never wrong. They got it all mixed up seeing me strong. Y’all know I’m the King of my crew. God’s Gift to everything.

But in the back of your head all you can see is yo’ no count Daddy, welfare system and crackhead Momma staring back in the mirror saying you gonna be like me.

Hanging out in the upper class nabe with my hoodrat crew. See a few things I wanna take. Wait a minute! What’s that I hear! A siren in back of me. Starting to fear. Next thing I’m on Lock down in Juvie Hall. Where my crew at now when as I’m taking this fall.

Baby boy lying in a ditch. Worse off than being a Snitch. Off to Rikers’ to be somebody’s Bitch. Baby Boy. You Done. You Done.

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His rhymes had got him to the big time. Opened new doors of upper class vice and sin. The immoralities of the 1%. I gazed at my son from the balcony of one of the greatest art institutions in the city seeing not the young man who had entered the 27 Club of the Immortals but every little boy running up and down Linden Blvd., Jamaica Avenue, Fulton Street or Sedgwick Avenue running to be the next 50 cent or Jay-Z finding fame and winding up on 27 Jump Street misjudging the doubles lives one foot in the hood and the other on Central Park West or the Upper East Side seeking Hipster fame and validation.

Jump my Son/Sun. Jump out of your dreams and into Eternity.

Christmas At Wayside Baptist Church


Christmas at Wayside Baptist Church featuring The Children’s Choir Singing Silent Night.

Roaming Urban Gypsy

https://wp.me/p1jjX8-74F


Christmas at Wayside Baptist Church


Our Christmas Tree



Today was a special children’s Christmas program. Below is the children’s choir singing Silent Night.

The gentleman in the Black suit seated on the left is Wayside Baptist Church Pastor Zidde Hamatheite.


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The Trees are Crying


I made this painting to honor and give tribute to mostly forgotten and ignored caregivers. The Mom whose son has Autism was especially specifically on my mind.

The general public expects us to be strong and stoic. Never asking for help or even admitting that we also have hopes, dreams and desires. Caregivers are seen as some sort of Superhuman Superheroes. Except that Life is not a series of comic book panels where the Hero can regenerate themselves. We get sick and we die.

We die with our Needs unmet and our Voices forever Silenced.


When we’re in trouble there’s nowhere to go and nobody to turn to. Who cares for the Caregivers?always our Voices are lost because no one hears our cries.

Holidays are especially difficult because you’re under pressure to do so much. Expected to do activities that you can no longer do for whatever reason. Abandoned by family, society and government. .


Yet you Learn Silence with a Smile because that’s what is wanted of you. Like a trained seal that balances a rubber ball on its nose in order to get a stingy ration of one thin bony Fish. Now clap then disappear so that the rest of us can continue in undisturbed comfort.


Tears at The Oasis

Pause for Thoughts


Pause for Thoughts


This week’s True Highlight


For me this week’s true Highlight happened at the local laundromat in conversation with the mother of a 15 year old son who has Autism. Mostly me listening as She detailed her battles with the City, State, Department of Education, and Housing plus having to work full time. Once I told her that my brother Stephen has Autism and I shared a few photos She felt more at ease to unburden herself.

Periodically She had to call her Son via cellphone to make sure that he got on the school bus. She discussed her hopes and dreams for her Son, Daily Challenges and not enough family support. Her parents the boys grandparents do help but they are getting up in age.

I would guess Her to be in Her late 40s and just like any other young woman She occasionally likes to go out after work to relax with coworkers. However despite the fact that she pre cooks meals that can be easily microwaved her family members who Live in the same building don’t heat the boys food for him resulting in the young man calling his Mother all evening meaning No down time or relaxing for Mom.

I could tell that She is Overwhelmed. In terms of trying to care for my brother Stephen I’m overwhelmed but you must disregard your issues and try to figure out what to do and which way to go.

In August the boy stays with his Dad in the Caribbean. Mom’s only break.

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No self care. Self care is a joke if you have a developmental disabled child or sibling because even if you don’t Live with the person you are on call 24/7/365. That’s why I personally don’t take any long term or far away trips.

This Mom lives in Public Housing and receives Section 8 which is a city program that provides housing vouchers to low income People. Now this is the type of Housing that this Mom and Her Autistic Son endure, falling ceilings, leaks, broken toilets, peeling paint etc… Yes this is how the city treats this hard working Mom. In New York City you can work yet not be able to afford proper housing.

She also has to instruct her son on how to deal with school bullies. Bullying is a big problem in American schools and bullies pick on any child who looks or acts different.

As far as the Department of Education is concerned they are quick to disqualify your child from much needed services and programs.

Even though I am not Stephen Mom as a sibling who has attended numerous meetings over the last 30+ years it’s a constant battle against budget cuts.

Also I’m getting older and you all know what that means. I choose Not to discuss any of my health or medical problems because #1 this Blog is not a pity party and my health issues are nobody’s Business but mine. However obviously as you age there are less and less things you can do meaning that lately I miss more meetings. Not a complaint but a true realistic statement.

For those of you who have been with me for a while you know that I’m constantly on the phone to our Elected officials trying to get programs and services restored. You know that both Stephen and I along with an advocacy group went up to Albany which is the New York State Capitol where Governor Cuomo resides to meet with as many Elected officials as possible. You also remember a few years ago when on a cold March day I joined myself to a demonstration to protest against budget cuts. We protested in front of Governor Cuomo Office in Manhattan.

Oh Yes I can relate so well to this Mother’s struggle for Her Son. The lack of services for both caregivers and family members who have developmental disabilities. For us there is no respite.


We folded our clothes put the laundry into our respective shopping carts. Talked a little more outside in the cold and this Mom looked so sad that we had to part ways. Each to our own block. Each returning to our own individual struggles and hardships but knowing that at least for a little while we were not alone in Our battles.