Sep 30, 2017
Will it Go Round in Circles?
Billy Preston – Will It Go Round in Circles
Black is not something I do. It is who I am.
It is the place I inhabit and that which inhabits me.
Black is the space where ancestral spirits find place within my soul. It’s music inhabits my every thought and deed. From Be-Bop to Hip-Hop it’s all there never to be displaced no matter my current accommodations.
Calling me Journey. Sojourning for Truth. Ain’t I a Woman strong and fierce.
Calling me Traveler for I have inhabited many shores. I strode forth without ever leaving my home.
Home is the place that inhabits me. Every cut corner ragged edge begs to be filled. Silence inhabits uncharted symphonies of mindless cacophonies. Symphonic Blasts inhabit the Universe.
Museum paintings and sculptures inhabit three planes: Past, Present and Future. Transformation begins via viewers lending voices to long forgotten pasts. Silent Interiors speak Volumes but only the selected of the masses can hear its voice.
The butterfly leaps from Chrysalis thrust into Arboreal fields. In tune with Eternal Firefly beings.
Street Urban Art Inhabits dreary dry brutalist streetscapes revamping the atmosphere paying Silent Verbal Homage to fallen heroes kept from whited sepulchral one-sided gallery spaces.
The past inhabits the future while dullards look askance on those not like them. The past inhabits the present whilst clinging to a more hopeful future.
Past and current inhabitants on a collision course with destiny. Destiny inhabits the storm.
The Great Soul inhabits All Souls at birth yet flees from the wicked. Let Grace Abound.
Yes We Inhabit a strange land mystically inhabiting three spheres. Counterclockwise orbits inhabiting galaxies.
Broken is who and what I am. Every day I see the pieces of my armor falling to the floor. I am that tragic secret whispered among the thorns. An embalmed mannequin morphing into a rotting corpse. A piece of trash waiting for Sanitation to pick me up and deposit me on the refuse heap. The Reaper comes for his Harvest as the Char Man makes his daily delivery to Sanford & Son. Elizabeth I’ll see you soon.
When did the explosion happen? Who knows? Because I think it was really an implosion. Being a Nightmare waiting to be born. Somebody put a dent in my universe which I don’t know how to repair.
I am not mortar and stone. I am bubbling flesh bursting at the seams. In my dreams I’m someone else. Somebody else. An important person. A person with a mission, passion and purpose. Going up in the air ready to crash into the next mountain peak. Brought low. Brought back to earth. Reality.
Holding court in Mt. Morris Park armed with my Eastman Kodak Brownie there to see and be seen capturing every day Harlemites and Glorious Black Culture. Moving easily and seamless between the 20th and 21st Centuries as the First Time Traveling Female Flâneur. Racing forward in time for a day at Rockaway Playland with a same day trip to Coney Island. No boundaries. Nothing to hold me back. I’d Fly Free as as a Winged Spirit beyond dimensions laughing through eternity. A wiggle of the nose. A tug on the ear. Three 3 clicks of my red patent leather shoes and in milliseconds there I’d be on yet another Fabulous Adventure!! ❤ ❤
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