Thursday, August 9, 2007

Contemplations & Revelations

In the Spirit of My Queendom…

Fruitfully bombarded with images that manipulate us from reaching our highest potential.
Just because you have money in the bank, it does not mean you have elevated your ferocious credentials. What is there to gain if you never show yourself to have anything to loose? Brake away from the illusion of defeat, you are more than just a muse.

Politicians, virile leaders, cowards in love all share the same deceit. It is through their acts of cowardness, that the universe lingers close to spiritual defeat. A broken shoe, a shattered glass, a body that once danced beautifully, which is still at last. Value in not in what we own, or how we move within the confines of a textured plane. Simple to see, the shine of polish that sparkles in the light, will all delude, just like the sun after she hears the haunting echoes of the moonlight. What will then be left is nothing but yourself and you. Can you look in the mirror and say, that you are happy with the way the reflection reveals how good grace is bestowed upon you? What you have given, is it equal to that which you take? I will no longer pay my dues, for that which is not mine to embrace.

The colour of my skin, the colour of my soul. A constant reminder of the mysteries that remain un-told. True to my heritage, my ancestors fight; I will remember that I was born to into a freedom and I am here to love with all my might. My fortitude as a woman of substance, will not yield to another’s push and shove. I will not crumble at your feet; I will gain my identity through learning, honesty and love.

Scars linger on the surface of my skin. Like someone has taken a pocket knife and decided to drag it deeply against my delicate, brown skin. Through the scars I wear on my body, I am exposed to be. A woman with wisdoms of many lifetimes, tucked within my heart so delicatly. My arms are a safe place to rest in peace. I will rise from defeat and betrayl, for this is my story of prevail . No one can silence my passionate light. For without it I would grow lonely, bitter and cold, masked in the night. It is hard to remember where this chaos all begun. What is the inevitability in god’s master plan? I do not want to fade into the echoes of time, with no beat to accompany the rhymes that dance freely in my mind.

My fate shall not be shattered, for I believe in the gospel of love. Churches are ornate with the beauty of an artist’s hand. But what is there to brag about if you yourself, have not manifested your body into your own sculpting hands? Edifices are erected to show the triumphs of our accomplishments, conquers and growth. But if all materialism's were stripped away, would you have anything left to believe in, to purify the beauty that lays within? We consciously lay wrapped in our own heads. Greed is all in site, not the visions of the children of the world, who are falling to the dead. Or even a mothers cry for mercy, after she has so devoutly prayed. How can we be human, if we collectively have no soul? Pain and destruction is the only story that is sold.

Daily on the national news, I see images that show such heinous abuse. Starvation, social constipation, cultural alteration, mis-communication, another case of falsified propriety and avoided altercation. Tears drift like hunger without any nourishing. The act of kindness has become a myth, unless it encourages the gain of narrowness on a path, that is floweful to your gluttonous fix. If you are my sister and you are my brother, why do you lay cold, desperate, un-loved and with a mediated hunger for more? Ignored. Neglect is the reason that we have become so concretely corrupt. When will we bind our hands together and say enough is enough?

How do I hold me head up, when we are all connected though is the consistent pace of fucking up? I crawl within my own womb, to find a place of innocence and salvation, away from this constant abuse of love. Is this the kind of world I would like to bring my children into? Blue skies, so often fade into grey. The idea of realness seems so far astray. But through my red mind I discipline myself to remain alert and never drift from the truth of hope. Respect is humble to the hand of the person that grasps it. Do not allow someone else to bury you in a stale casket.

You and I are strong, we will find our way. Through the shadows of tempting illusion, there is a promise of happiness and a brighter day. I pray it can stay and guide us to find our way. I know it is with my breasts that I will nourish my earthly work. In my womanhood is where I will lay my money purse.
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