Thought Matters...

Every day I find I have the same challenge. What should my blog be about today? It seems when I want to write most, topics elude me. Most of my work you see is poetry. I think like a poet, no matter what there is to say it comes out in the form of stanzas. Blogging is a new thing for me although writing is not. I have had so many poetry blogs throughout the years that I'm sure there's a minuscule file out there in cyberspace with my name somewhere.
Let's see I've had MySpace, writers something or other, of course Facebook and I currently own a blogspot and a Wordpress account. Yes I am officially all over the place. However it is my intent to correct all of my numerous wanderings by consolidating all of my work in one word home. My very own site. Still the change is wearing on me. I have many questions. Will people visit my new site even though they're use to going into blogger to find me? You know how people hate to be indisposed. Most people, even when they can find you, rarely go looking for you. The truth is writers are very selfish creatures. They don't mind one bit having you read and gloat over their work yet, when it comes to reading another writers? Well, thats a whole other story. And so the questions persist. Will there be new traffic to my site and how do I get it? How do I get people interested in what I have to say? As people we are very fickle and set in our ways and there are so many blogs out there. Should I go from a free site to a paid one? Those are just a few of the questions plaguing me about this change.
There is no commitment made as of yet, I've not signed on the dotted line. I am currently working with the 14 day free trial to see if it strikes my fancy enough to shut everything else down and pay for a new site. Before now a few years back actually I would have simply paid and see if it worked out. Today I am a more patient person. I will do the trial, really take time to work on the site and in the last three days remaining, I will put it out there and test it out. It is all perspective after all.

I'll Take that Challenge!!

I have a plan. To loose about ten pounds and get fit. To eat well and exercise regularly and reframe my eating habits and not only for the good that in itself brings but for a much more important reason. I want to lower my dialysis days from three to two days a week, and I will. Today I took my first step on the right track. I began with a good workout this morning, researched the foods I should and shouldn't eat on dialysis and bought me some healthy snacks. I have been wanting to get fit for ages, always promising myself this was the day, that i'd begin next week but the incentive just wasn't there and ever since I had this illness crawl up on me like a thief trying to steal my life I will admit I lost a lot of my stamina and desire to do much of anything. As of today I have recaptured some of that desire and the first thing that gave it to me was the energy I recouped after I worked out. I feel like a new me!! I am exited and ready to go. The other overwhelming reason for wanting to do this right, aside of course from wanting to be here for my kids and having a long life with Ed is the all important fact that I can lower my dialysis days from three to two times per week. For any dialysis patient out there this is BIG. Anyone on dialysis will tell you how this disease not only strips your energy and will but that it completely transforms your life, leaving you little time or energy for anything else. Even spending time with your loved ones becomes an insurmountable chore. Going out, eating out, vacations, it all revolves around dialysis. There is nothing you can't do without first taking into account weather and how it will affect your body or dialysis schedule. This possibility is an amazing motivator for me. I can't fully express how exiting this is for me. To get part of my life back would be amazing. So I have begun today. My quest is to eventually be dialysis free but my first step is to minimize it with diet and exercise as much as I can that I may have an assemblage somewhat of a normal life again. One step at a time it will all fall into place. This is my one step. I will keep going until I can run.

Needles

Nerves
That's the first feeling
When I see you waiting for me
A feeling a little
Of despair
Will you hurt me today?
Sometimes you're easy with me because you know how
Sensitive I am
Even the small jabs hurt
I will never become accustomed to the pain
I see you so often now you have almost become a friend
Frenemy of mine
Because though you bring me life
I know you don't love me
My beneficial sacrifice in blood
Will never appease you until I am cut
Wide open
And my parts are replaced
Until then we walk
Slowly to the grave
And I shall leave you there

Black: Devoid of Color

This weekend I went to an event that impacted my view on race relations and brainwashing and this time low and behold I wasn't taught this lesson by a white person as it has been in most of my race related lessons, but by a whole auditorium of African american parents and their children. This on its own made me quite sad. The children I am certain knew no better for we are our children's teachers so this falls completely on the parents shoulders. I wonder though if it truly lies completely on their shoulders however. What I saw at this event honestly made me a believer in the systematic brainwashing done to Africans when they arrived in this country. The removal of their families, their identities, their belief systems all washed away and supplanted by false white gods, false white words and names and most of all white beliefs. The strongest belief itself being that "white" is better.
As I sat at this event I was taken aback at the many examples that every adult there honestly believed that white is better. Its not that the people there acted white because good manners and the display of education is not a white thing it is a human thing. Everyone has a duty to be educated and represent themselves in the very best light as a human being so lets get that out of the way. The issue for me personally was that there was not one ethnic representation anywhere to be seen. There was no ethnic dances, not one ethnic recitation, not even an ethnic outfit to be seen among the performers to represent the slightest pride in being African and this was an African American event. It left me in awe how every expression was a copy of Caucasian lifestyle and mannerisms. Every dance was performed to Caucasian music, the fashion Caucasian as well, yet that can all be passed over because as I stated before this has been taught as "good" systematically for centuries. What I could not pass over was the MC's speech before the debutants and their suitors were to display their all white outfits.

She says: "You will all soon see your children in the perfect interpretation of white. The sign of purity, cleanliness and perfection. The way of light and all that is right, clean and blameless. The only color devoid of color and so it is perfect."

My mouth hit the floor with her lame definition of white. How do you doubt anyone could help but see black as being darkness, un-pure and sinful if you yourself are describing white as being the best thing known to you as an African American? Do you honestly believe that your children will see themselves as the light of God themselves when you make sure to cloak them in your dark words? I was shaken that no one saw or even understood an affront when they heard it. I wanted with all my heart to stand and ask if that was a joke. Especially since black is the only color devoid of color. White is the inclusion of all colors. Not one person rose to confront anything this woman said and it dawned on me with a remarkable sense of disgust and sadness, why would they? every person there believed her explicit definition of white. How as a people can you overcome such an absolute. Such an inbred belief that you are no better than darkness. I will tell you this, if I did not believe in the brainwashing of the African people in this country by the white man, I am irrefutably convinced now. In that moment I was disturbed to my core, shocked and shaken. Some people may believe reading this that I am making a lot out of a whole lot of nothing but the truth is that if this is where we are now, we have not come far at all from the field. The mentality is still in the plantation and we better get it together and start teaching African children black pride. For as long as we keep allowing our children the belief in that warped definition of white, the shackles will remain with us, they're just painted a different color and that is clear.

Where I wanna Go

One day, a long time ago I fell in love with Michelangelo. I don't remember where I was or what I was doing, come to think on it I believe I was at a bookstore somewhere in New York. My bookstore trips were frequent when I lived in the city. In my pre iPad days I went places and did things. Now technology's advances keep us grounded at home as we become the lazy of the millennia. Still, I digress. My frequent places were Barnes & Noble and the Met where my fascination with literature and art began, besides the library of course, but those were my younger days. When I first saw the David and Pieta I was in love. I knew he was Italian. I knew that his work was powerful. I knew I had to find out all there was about his history, where he came from and of course what inspired his remarkable work. I devoured his artistic history which began at the tender age of 14. Thus began my love affair with Florence and its greatest artist, in my most humble opinion of course. I'm sure every country has its treasures but no country holds all the treasures of Florence. No where can I imagine as I do there, the amazing feast for the senses that I would be in for. The art alone would take days to appreciate properly let alone the architecture. The Trevi fountain and the Spanish steps would bring hours of discovery. I long to sit at the foot the fountain and have a cold gelato. To cruise the churches, the museums, the ruins and sample the food, but most of all the amazing history. What more can one ask for than to wake in a land where so many brilliant artists once walked the streets such as Donatello, Ghirlandaio, DaVinci and of course the master Michelangelo himself, although he never saw himself that way. Perfectionists rarely do. Still his work has given me a heart felt desire to travel to Italy and see his creations in person. Who could help, after seeing his work on paper but wish, for an instant to stand before David or Moses? face to face with a masterpiece! That would be a dream come true for me. A life long desire. And one day I will. That I promise myself. Italy will know my face and I will know Michelangelo.

A world of Tragedy

~I think I would rather possess eyes that know no sight, ears that know no sound, hands that know no touch than a heart that knows no love.~





Love. I think of love and I wonder,
what does it mean to this world of woe?
How are we to focus on love when
the world is a distressed old woman with mental issues.
A heartbreak addict and we are it's supplier.
The news emerges at the crack of dawn with the bang
the pistol that just killed the twelve year old down the street holding the rubber gun with the orange tip. And love is supposed to be on our mind
while the baby lays in the garbage can while her mommie peddles her body for a bottle of oxxy. Sweet.
Love. A tragedy not even Shakespeare would have evoked
I despise the word would be his tale in this lost age
At the stroke of midnight, we prepare
For another disastrous chance at creating the almost.