Spokn Wurd

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hJZkBWBashA

http://www.mataano.com/index.php/fallwinter-2011-2/

For the F.A.M.E-ous and Beautiful People!

WORK IT BReeeeeezzzyyyy

ITS A BLACK THING

It sucks that that dick has to validate us; even between us females badness is contacted on how many cocks got us cocktails in our contact list; I don’t know us black girls lost in the darkness look what its cost us; our ideals locked in a cockpit crashing we reached our peak from what tv speaks if we land a man with fat pockets drama action. When said out load its nonsense but yet we follow and keep falling unconscious. Drunk how many glasses class flunked how many passes; masked in wackness as long the hair long bootly plump we’ll keep askin where the cash is? Is that it? Family factitious; a formula to humanize failure. The best fed will mule a famish fiction. What the fuck we thinking. What the fuck we missing. Its easier to fill up a cold prison its old and meagre when your best friend sister cousin is 15 outta school and pregnant. Not to mention. I’m not only a part of this messed up black thing; I continue its growth, I just speak but too weak to grow….so pass that, I’ll follow I’m next to go. Cant leave my peeps they next to blow…shiet nigga on what? that money roll …got the hoes and blow on lock watch the counter top filled with all colours of cash all types of rock. And when my brother speaks like that what shall I do? My brothers speak like that what do I do; nod and move on; stride while hummin the same black song. On and on and onnnnn

ramba-bama-lings

Juices flowing emotions rolling, forces- my forces. a recognized notion; motion a flow of ideas and ideals.
Not to mention the utopia of my synapses, I’m relapsing in my own; your voice an interception my inception. Don’t falter my perception; u alienate my world put a worldly footprint in my soil; my soul; who gave you so much power? I’m embowered by your remarks I’m empowered by both and mark my words… Cause they are the basis; so basic so face it ; like a father to son faults, a daughter to moms doubts . I honour shouts-pity pouts at least bring voice to your demons. Your noise a nuisance yet healing. At most your choice a burden but unfurling a truth. Which in any other way would be as brutal not cruel - a fool would walk around water, a fool would dive in to drown. So either scenario not sound. I’m unbound by love and pieced together by love. So two negatives’ not a plus but I plus enough to trust, In dusk and dawn to each his own. Love for one and only the rest their prob-lem. I don probe for crabs or fish for bad. I dish food and feed the sad. The lonely homely the covered strong. And for the uncovered I struck a cord. My armour brittle but my voice my voice my sword. I speak on what I feel simply on my accord. Dare I not dare I fall for you fall outta place. I stand. I stand strong. And its crazy but in this world baby I Stand alone.

TRANSPARENT

Wear your heart on your sleeve?
Not only am I extremely sensitive gal, I just can’t seem to hide my emotions. I wear my heart on my face; if I’m sad, happy, angry you name it its there. I can be read like an open book my expressions truly voice my feelings. I envy those cold and calculated types that keep their thoughts as just that thought; those that can keep a straight face during the hardest of trials and worst yet those who can pick and choose what they want to convey. Its all or nothing for me. I’m either a mean mute or a bubbly bumbling fool. I can’t even tell a lie without stuttering! Even after it (feeling like maybe I did good job with my lie), I feel horribly guilty I end up admitting to it anyway. I wonder does that make me an imperfect human. Or were humans designed to be like me and other people just learned to conceal the truth.

Talk Yo Shit

I don’t understand how we humans always have so much to say; when we continue to regurgitate the same mundane-for lack of a better word- crap. we speak on peoples behalf when we cant even handle our own affairs. we complain about the worlds wicked ways while we find refuge in our own deteriorating homes. We criticize others lifestyles habits traditions personalities we pick pick pick playing the opposite character on the one we are slandering. preach and never practice. weep and expect our pain to be catered to with sympathy. our neighbours trials and tribulations we tune out aloofly only to relish in later for mere amusement.


What’s absolutely mind boggling is when tables turn-we become the target of slander we find our selves in utter shock, and formulate a tell-all pity party only to do ten folds of the damage done to us. We find solace in our hypocritical gossiping cyclone and flee from atonement like a plague. We crumble from the fear of solidifying the truth only to become transparent to our lies. What’s worst is the deep connections that have been made within this shit storm we whirl around in waiting to get caught-the next victim. Nothing is sacred. Secrets within communities are stains on your resume. Stains that are brought up and cleared only to leave an even harsher bleached mark. Gossip is powerful and temping for the ears that hear it and the mouth that shares it. Both sides are culprits and equally responsible. To completely demolish this unrelenting wicked talk from daily discussion is awkwardly impossible. Strange when the story is done we have nothing to speak about.


However there are topics that trump backbiting. Topics that can be carried on with fluidly. Topics where the truth is set in stone and examples and references endless. Allah, His Books, His angels, His prophets, heaven and hell. I am no different from you and even this I have done what we all imagine to be innocent. Because we have suffocated in it. We have been wrapped in tale after tale from flesh of our brothers and sisters that we’ve acquired a taste to it. So enthralled in it we’ve put backbiting into good and bad categories of their own. The only difference right here right now is that we all singularize or attack a group race nation and I just wrote ineffectual words bounded by letters about the masses.

Creativity in a Nutshell

Architects of creative thought-complete and utter originality, do they exist? No. But there are those who can take their imaginations and compel a reality by intensive thought. The writer brothers wanted to fly and just that. so take off with your thoughts dreams, aspirations as impossible or far-fetched they seem boxed in the “within reason” margin that we have settled and conform to. tis the box we cage ourselves in. so hit that black board and brain storm let the what if blossom and the how comes allow your whirlwind of genius unravel. And while u at this ladies n gentlemen; take a dagger to self-doubt. we are the educated youth of the world and this is WARRR!!!!!

Dear Valentines

Out of all the days you picked this cold month, I mean personally I would gear more towards June. Perfect time to celebrate your fake love. What could you possibly do on Feb 14? I know what, Shovel a pile of snow off your front door, or maybe even freeze your ass outside. If anything the weather would make things less romantic, I know everyone agrees with me on this. There is nothing cute about wearing a big old jacket, hiding that sexy dress with a pair of nasty winter boots, probably at this point covered with salt. Cupid, you must have been under the influence of some sort, February 14, CMON SON. Valentines is probably the only time of year where I wish I was in a relationship, but any other time of the year, I could careless about a dozen of roses or some damn chocolate. By the way cupid, instead of shooting arrows, why don’t you mail out a list of “THINGS YOU SHOULD BUY”. I'm too grown for roses, unless they sparkle and do tricks. Its 2011, its about time you give these arrows a rest, unless your shooting it through his bank.

Xoxo