Ron's World of Words ; Life's Words and Their Wordsmiths

Phillis Wheatley - First African American Poet

2012-02-12T20:03:00.001-05:00

Phillis Wheatley (1753 – December 5, 1784) was the first African American poet and first African-American woman to publish her writing. Phillis was seized from Senegal/Gambia, West Africa, when she was about seven years old. She was transported to the Boston docks with a shipment of "refugee" slaves, who because of age or physical frailty were unsuited for rigorous labor in the West Indian and Southern colonies She was purchased by the Wheatley family of Boston, who taught her to read and write, and encouraged her poetry when they saw her talent. Her first name was apparently derived from the ship that carried her to America, The Phillis.

During her life, while it was not common for American women to be published, it was especially uncommon for children of slaves to be educated at all. Her gift of writing poetry was encouraged by her owners and their daughter, Mary; they taught Phillis to read and write, with her first poem being published at the age of twelve, "On Messrs. Hussey and Coffin." The countess of Huntingdon, Selina Hastings, was a friend of the Wheatley's who greatly encouraged and financed the publication of her book of poetry, Poems. Obour Tanner, a former slave who made the journey through the middle passage with Phillis also was one of the chief influences and supporters of Phillis' craft.

In 1768, Wheatley wrote "To the King's Most Excellent Majesty," in which she praised George III for repealing the Stamp Act. As the American Revolution gained strength, Wheatley's writing turned to themes that expressed ideas of the rebellious colonists. In 1770 Wheatley wrote a poetic tribute to the evangelist George Whitefield, which received widespread acclaim. Her poetry expressed Christian themes, and many poems were dedicated to famous figures. Over one-third consist of elegies, the remainder being on religious, classical, and abstract themes. She seldom referred to her own life in her poems. Although she was an African slave, Phillis Wheatley was one of the best-known poets in prenineteenth-century America. Phillis was the abolitionists' illustrative testimony that blacks could be both artistic and intellectual. Her name was a household word among literate colonists and her achievements a catalyst for the fledgling antislavery movement.

The publication of Wheatley's Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral (1773) brought her fame, both in England, and the Thirteen Colonies; figures such as George Washington praised her work. During Wheatley's visit to England with her master's son African-American poet Jupiter Hammon praised her work in his own poem. Wheatley was emancipated after the death of her master John Wheatley. She felt slavery to be the issue which separated whites from true heroism: whites can not "hope to find/Deivine acceptance with th' Almighty mind" when "they disgrace/And hold in bondage Afric's blameless race." She married soon after but she and her husband lost two children as infants. After he was imprisoned for debt in 1784, Wheatley fell into poverty and died of illness, quickly followed by the death of her surviving infant son.

An Hymn To The Evening

SOON as the sun forsook the eastern main
The pealing thunder shook the heav'nly plain;
Majestic grandeur! From the zephyr's wing,
Exhales the incense of the blooming spring.
Soft purl the streams, the birds renew their notes,
And through the air their mingled music floats.
Through all the heav'ns what beauteous dies are
spread!
But the west glories in the deepest red:
So may our breasts with ev'ry virtue glow,
The living temples of our God below!
Fill'd with the praise of him who gives the light,
And draws the sable curtains of the night,
Let placid slumbers sooth each weary mind,
At morn to wake more heav'nly, more refin'd;
So shall the labours of the day begin
More pure, more guarded from the snares of sin.
Night's leaden sceptre seals my drowsy eyes,

An Hymn to Humanity
I.
Lo! for this dark terrestrial ball
Forsakes his azure-paved hall
A prince of heav'nly birth!
Divine Humanity behold,
What wonders rise, what charms unfold
At his descent to earth!

II.
The bosoms of the great and good
With wonder and delight he view'd,
And fix'd his empire there:
Him, close compressing to his breast,
The sire of gods and men address'd,
"My son, my heav'nly fair!

III.
"Descend to earth, there place thy throne;
"To succour man's afflicted son
"Each human heart inspire:
"To act in bounties unconfin'd
"Enlarge the close contracted mind,
"And fill it with thy fire."

IV.
Quick as the word, with swift career
He wings his course from star to star,
And leaves the bright abode.
The Virtue did his charms impart;
Their G-----! then thy raptur'd heart
Perceiv'd the rushing God:

V.
For when thy pitying eye did see
The languid muse in low degree,
Then, then at thy desire
Descended the celestial nine;
O'er me methought they deign'd to shine,
And deign'd to string my lyre.

VI.
Can Afric's muse forgetful prove?
Or can such friendship fail to move
A tender human heart?
Immortal Friendship laurel-crown'd
The smiling Graces all surround
With ev'ry heav'nly Art.

A Farewel To America to Mrs. S. W.
I.
ADIEU, New-England's smiling meads,
Adieu, the flow'ry plain:
I leave thine op'ning charms, O spring,
And tempt the roaring main.

II.
In vain for me the flow'rets rise,
And boast their gaudy pride,
While here beneath the northern skies
I mourn for health deny'd.

III.
Celestial maid of rosy hue,
O let me feel thy reign!
I languish till thy face I view,
Thy vanish'd joys regain.

IV.
Susanna mourns, nor can I bear
To see the crystal show'r,
Or mark the tender falling tear
At sad departure's hour;

V.
Not unregarding can I see
Her soul with grief opprest:
But let no sighs, no groans for me,
Steal from her pensive breast.

VI.
In vain the feather'd warblers sing,
In vain the garden blooms,
And on the bosom of the spring
Breathes out her sweet perfumes.

VII.
While for Britannia's distant shore
We sweep the liquid plain,
And with astonish'd eyes explore
The wide-extended main.

VIII.
Lo! Health appears! celestial dame!
Complacent and serene,
With Hebe's mantle o'er her Frame,
With soul-delighting mein.

IX.
To mark the vale where London lies
With misty vapours crown'd,
Which cloud Aurora's thousand dyes,
And veil her charms around.

X.
Why, Phoebus, moves thy car so slow?
So slow thy rising ray?
Give us the famous town to view,
Thou glorious king of day!

XI.
For thee, Britannia, I resign
New-England's smiling fields;
To view again her charms divine,
What joy the prospect yields!

XII.
But thou! Temptation hence away,
With all thy fatal train,
Nor once seduce my soul away,
By thine enchanting strain.

XIII.
Thrice happy they, whose heav'nly shield
Secures their souls from harms,
And fell Temptation on the field
Of all its pow'r disarms!

His Excellency General Washington

Celestial choir! enthron'd in realms of light,
Columbia's scenes of glorious toils I write.
While freedom's cause her anxious breast alarms,
She flashes dreadful in refulgent arms.
See mother earth her offspring's fate bemoan,
And nations gaze at scenes before unknown!
See the bright beams of heaven's revolving light
Involved in sorrows and the veil of night!

The Goddess comes, she moves divinely fair,
Olive and laurel binds Her golden hair:
Wherever shines this native of the skies,
Unnumber'd charms and recent graces rise.

Muse! Bow propitious while my pen relates
How pour her armies through a thousand gates,
As when Eolus heaven's fair face deforms,
Enwrapp'd in tempest and a night of storms;
Astonish'd ocean feels the wild uproar,
The refluent surges beat the sounding shore;
Or think as leaves in Autumn's golden reign,
Such, and so many, moves the warrior's train.
In bright array they seek the work of war,
Where high unfurl'd the ensign waves in air.
Shall I to Washington their praise recite?
Enough thou know'st them in the fields of fight.
Thee, first in peace and honors—we demand
The grace and glory of thy martial band.
Fam'd for thy valour, for thy virtues more,
Hear every tongue thy guardian aid implore!

One century scarce perform'd its destined round,
When Gallic powers Columbia's fury found;
And so may you, whoever dares disgrace
The land of freedom's heaven-defended race!
Fix'd are the eyes of nations on the scales,
For in their hopes Columbia's arm prevails.
Anon Britannia droops the pensive head,
While round increase the rising hills of dead.
Ah! Cruel blindness to Columbia's state!
Lament thy thirst of boundless power too late.

Proceed, great chief, with virtue on thy side,
Thy ev'ry action let the Goddess guide.
A crown, a mansion, and a throne that shine,
With gold unfading, WASHINGTON! Be thine.

Phillis Wheatley

Maya Angelou - In And Out Of Time

2012-01-30T16:20:00.000-05:00

7 Poems by Langston Hughes

2012-01-23T21:23:00.001-05:00

Langston Hughes reads his poem, "Dreams"

Mother to Son - Langston Hughes

Love in Action: Occupy Spoken Word Piece with Drew Dellinger

2012-01-18T19:07:00.000-05:00

Swagger Like Us

2011-12-12T18:44:00.000-05:00

Baby Raps With Dad

2011-12-12T18:42:00.000-05:00

"Da'Shade Moonbeam" - "Let This Be The Beginning" (Occupy Everything)

2011-12-08T02:21:00.000-05:00

Occupy Wall St. Hip Hop Anthem: Occupation Freedom, Ground Zero And The ...

2011-12-08T02:05:00.000-05:00

Misery is Real (Occupy Wall Street poem)

2011-12-08T01:56:00.000-05:00

Occupy Wall Street - A Poem for a Brave Young Marine - Sgt. Shamar Thomas

2011-12-08T01:52:00.000-05:00

Occupy Wall Street Protest-Sign-Poetry

2011-12-08T01:44:00.000-05:00

Poetry: "Occupy Wall Street" by Versatyle

2011-12-08T01:33:00.000-05:00

Occupy Ottawa : Poetry From the People, Slam Style (with some Ukelele :)

2011-12-07T22:49:00.000-05:00

Poetry at Why I Occupy Philly Festival

2011-12-07T21:00:00.000-05:00

Howl Again Occupy Poetry Wall Street Occupoetry Ginsberg

2011-12-07T20:57:00.000-05:00

Occupy Poetry, Kansas City 10/30/11

2011-12-07T20:40:00.000-05:00

OCCUPY WALL STREET TRIBUTE "MARCH ON" by Apollo Poetry

2011-12-07T20:27:00.000-05:00

Maya Angelou On Courage & Love

2011-11-24T03:01:00.000-05:00

MY SISTER AND FRIEND TO THE END

2011-11-23T05:38:00.000-05:00

PATRICIA,
MY SISTER AND FRIEND TO THE END

by Marileeza

When God gives you a friend
You shall be friends to the end.
When God in His Wisdom connects any two lives
We must consider it a blessing – if we’re truly wise.
And we need to do anything we can possibly conceive
To make each other’s life flourish and remain at ease.

Everybody deserves a friendship that’s true.
And Pat, that’s what I’ve always seen in you.
You are patient, helpful, loving, and good --
Always doing the things that a good friend should.
You are not only kind to me but also with others
You have often helped me take care of my mother.
You’ve also tried to be helpful to parents of other friends
And you’ve also been their friend to the end.

Although you have not always had it easy in life,
You’ve done the best that you could in joys or in strife.
You’ve taught your children to be helpful and polite
And they represent your goodness to everyone’s delight.

You decided long ago to serve the Lord,
And you sang in choirs and ushered at church doors.
You volunteered to help out other ways that you could.
You greet everyone you meet lovingly, as we all should.

I have many fond memories of us two or more in my head --
Many were good -- and as life goes – naturally, some sad.
Growing up you were at church and my home so often
Dad called you the best church member he ever had.
You’ve always been part of the family we grew to love,
So we’re thankful God put us all together from above.
Wherever God places us we must let our little light shine
That’s why you’ll always be a friend of mine.
So when God gives us a friend
We shall be friends to the end.

amena brown in the beginning

2011-11-21T00:58:00.000-05:00

Amena Brown: Masterpeice -BluefishTV.com

2011-11-21T00:55:00.000-05:00

Occupy Wall St. Hip Hop Anthem: Occupation Freedom, Ground Zero And The ...

2011-11-02T16:26:00.000-04:00

G.O.S.P.E.L. - Propaganda (Official Video)

2011-10-31T17:09:00.000-04:00

Fatherless

2011-10-31T17:06:00.000-04:00

amena brown in the beginning

2011-10-29T02:07:00.000-04:00

amena brown your words

2011-10-28T14:32:00.000-04:00

Amena Brown - He is here

2011-10-28T12:09:00.000-04:00

Amena Brown - Be The One

2011-10-28T11:52:00.000-04:00

Empowerment by Propaganda

2011-10-27T17:58:00.000-04:00

Poem: The Waiting Game

2011-10-27T13:33:00.000-04:00

Spoken Word - Amena Brown @ Origins

2011-10-27T13:25:00.000-04:00

Amena Brown: Your Words-BluefishTV.com

2011-10-27T13:19:00.000-04:00

Roots & Wings - Amena Brown

2011-10-27T13:17:00.000-04:00

True Story - Amena Brown

2011-10-27T13:14:00.000-04:00

"YOU" AMENA BROWN SPOKEN WORD

2011-10-27T13:09:00.000-04:00

HE IS HERE by Amena Brown

2011-10-27T01:46:00.003-04:00

amena brown worship through poetry

2011-10-27T01:37:00.003-04:00

THIS IS BLACK HISTORY (OFFICIAL MUSIC VIDEO)

2011-10-26T10:54:00.003-04:00

Where are these young Black men from? European accent no less -- but regardless --- they have the facts and they have acted upon them in terms of the modern-day form of hip hop expression. The words, the meanings, the import and impetus are the most prominent mechanisms to perceive and accept into our consciousnesses. Appreciate the poetic expressions and recall the essential elements of Black History for everyone across the diaspora. Most importantly, dare/care to implant this sincere intent into the minds of our children -- or progeny. Amen!

When I Became a Man

2011-10-26T10:27:00.000-04:00

"I will wait for you" by Official P4CM Poet JANETTE...IKZ

2011-10-26T09:24:00.000-04:00

Janette McGhee (Home Assembly Church)

2011-10-26T09:14:00.000-04:00

KNOCK KNOCK Poet with Prologue by Ruby Dee

2011-10-26T06:00:00.000-04:00

Knock Knock

Peace | Myspace Video

The Roots feat. Jill Scott - You got me (NPA live, 19.04.1999)

2011-07-05T02:45:00.000-04:00

Common performs at White House Poetry Night

2011-06-21T16:37:00.000-04:00

President Obama & Poets at the White House

2011-06-21T15:42:00.002-04:00

Jill Scott - An Evening of Poetry At The White House

2011-06-21T15:33:00.000-04:00

Rest with God Gil Scott-Heron

2011-05-29T03:19:00.000-04:00

Gil Scott Heron - Message to the Messengers

"It’s not much fun being a prophet. Sure, you get to speak truth to power, but inevitably you wind up getting popped in the kisser for your trouble. Then you go crazy and nobody listens anyway, until it’s too late. You’re essentially doomed. "

Gil Scott-Heron

Gil Scott-Heron was known for work that reflected the reality of black America in the post-civil rights era and also spoke to the social and political disparities in this country.You could hear the truth in his poetry and music. His words touched my life with fire and understanding.

Gil Scott-Heron was born in Chicago, Illinois, (April 01,1949 ) Gil's mother Bobbie Scott-Heron sang with the New York Oratorial Society, a college-graduate who worked as a librarian.. Scott-Heron's father, Giles "Gil" Heron of Jamaican descent, nicknamed "The Black Arrow" was a football (soccer) player who, in the 1950s, became the first black athlete to play for
Glasgow's Celtic Football Club. His parents divorced early in his life, and Gil Scott-Heron was sent to live with his grandmother .

Gil spent his early childhood in the home of his maternal grandmother Lillie Scott in Lincoln,Tennessee. Learning musical and literary instruction from her. Scott-Heron also learned about prejudice firsthand, as he was one of three children picked to integrate an elementary school in nearby Jackson,Tn. The abuse proved to much to bear . Though Scott-Heron's experiences in Tennessee must have been difficult, they proved to be the seed of his writing career, as his first volume of poetry was written around that time.

When Gil Scott-Heron was 13 years old, his grandmother died and he moved to his mother in the Bronx in New York City, where he enrolled in DeWitt Clinton High School. He later transferred to The Fieldston School after one of his teachers, a Fieldston graduate, showed one of his writings to the head of the English department there and he was granted a full scholarship.

Click here for more of Gil's story

Gil Scott-Heron: We Beg Your Pardon

Gil Scott Heron "Winter In America" (1974)

Gil Scott-Heron - The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

Gil Scott-Heron - The Bottle

Gil Scott-Heron | We Almost Lost Detroit

Gil Scott-Heron - 'I'm New Here'

Gil Scott-Heron: Definition of a Poet (R.I.P.)

2011-05-29T03:05:00.000-04:00

Def Poetry Jam: Gemineye - "Penny for Your Thoughts"

2011-05-17T18:33:00.000-04:00

Def Poetry: Floetry- "Fantasize" (Official Video)

2011-05-02T17:43:00.000-04:00

Bassey Ikpi Sometimes silence is the loudest kind of noise

2011-05-02T17:40:00.000-04:00

Apology to My Unborn by Bassey Ikpi (Def Poetry Jam)

2011-05-02T17:32:00.000-04:00

Def Poetry Jam - Alicia Keys - POW

2011-05-02T17:27:00.000-04:00

Def Poetry Jam: Gemineye - "Penny for Your Thoughts"

2011-05-02T17:21:00.000-04:00

Michael Franti & Spearhead : Time To Go Home

2011-03-14T17:09:00.000-04:00

Spearhead - Hole In The Bucket

2011-03-14T16:51:00.000-04:00

Spearhead - Positive

2011-03-14T16:48:00.000-04:00

Spearhead - People in the Middle

2011-03-14T16:45:00.001-04:00

I want to write for you

2011-02-28T21:06:00.000-05:00

I want to write for you
About
Going places with you and my pen
I’ll write splendid rhymes and majestic verses as we are revered by the worlds reading eyes
My pen will be our badge, and crest of honor of written chronicles in royal museums
I’ll write our story to be
I’ll compose a beautiful storybook of a first class passage through life with thee
Our journey of life, I will publish in hardcovers and magazine subscriptions
I’ll write scripts of non-fictions of our love going to secret places
Making love in dangerous places that’s in chapters one through infinity
I’ll protect you by writing poems so hard, and so wickedly on point, thugs will run for cover in libraries
I’ll write tour guides to get lost in the most legendry romantic places
I’ll write poems of what we see, and feel, and what we know
I’ll write fables of adventures of lost lovers disappearing but we are known to be alive
I’ll pen sagas of the great moments in time that we made love on private islands and in air balloons, and castles, an in outer space, and in dreams we are yet to have
I’ll write our diary in the sand, but 20,000 Leagues under the Sea
And I’ll writes poems on the bottom of your feet and on your backside, and on the dark side of the moon
Let us dig the earth and bury our tales alongside Adam and Eve
In the center of the earth, I’ll write journals in the gold we pass by
As we come out the other end of the earth we’ll sign together the best seller I wrote to honor our love
Sail with my desires to pen every sunrise and nightfall
I’ll write poems from ink drained from the stars
I’ll write parables from the blood of lovers past
I’ll write narratives from the account of kings who wished they could have loved their queens forever
I’ll write about the love I have you with no plot, and no scheme and I only conspire to live another day to write for you
I’ll write volumes of novella of poems of our love into a historical literary masterpiece
The title: My Never Ending Love Letter to You and Me
Signed your author of love

© 2/2010 A.L.A.H.
Have you read my books?
Your support keeps me writing

Have you read my books?
Your support keeps me writing

http://alvinhorn.com/
or
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0967937868/qid=1138168217/s r=8-1/refd_bbs_1/002-2378101-7332047?n=507846&s=books&v=glance
By: Alvin Lloyd Alexander Horn

TRIBUTE TO POET NIKKI GIOVANNI

2011-02-19T02:14:00.001-05:00

   Nikki Giovanni - 2010 Celebration of Black Writing (Live In Philly)

   Nikki Giovanni's "Nikki Rosa" (It Is Well) - A T Short #15

   Nikki Giovanni's "Woman Poem" (Amazing Grace) - A T Short #10

   Nikki Giovanni on Hip Hop Speaks to Children

   Nikki Giovanni's "Alabama Poem" (I've Decided to Make Jesus My Choice)

One of the most widely-read American poets, she prides herself on being "a Black American, a daughter, a mother, a professor of English." Giovanni remains as determined and committed as ever to the fight for civil rights and equality. Always insisting on presenting the truth as she sees it, she has maintained a prominent place as a strong voice of the Black community. Her focus is on the individual, specifically, on the power one has to make a difference in oneself, and thus, in the lives of others.
Yolande Cornelia "Nikki" Giovanni (born June 7, 1943) an American poet, writer, commentator, activist, and educator.

Nikki Giovanni was born in Knoxville, Tennessee, and grew up in Lincoln Heights, an all-black suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. She and her sister spent their summers with their grandparents in Knoxville, and she graduated with honors from Fisk University, her grandfather's alma mater, in 1968; after graduating from Fisk, she attended the University of Pennsylvania and Columbia University. She published her first book of poetry, Black Feeling Black Talk, in 1968, and within the next year published a second book, thus launching her career as a writer. Early in her career she was dubbed the "Princess of Black Poetry," and over the course of more than three decades of publishing and lecturing she has come to be called both a "National Treasure" and, most recently, one of Oprah Winfrey's twenty-five "Living Legends."

   TRIBUTE TO POET NIKKI GIOVANNI

   Nikki Giovanni's "My Tower" (Pretty Little Baby)

   Nikki Giovanni - Ego Tripping -The Truth is on the way LP

   Nikki Giovanni: Bill Cosby

   Nikki Giovanni: Condoleezza Rice

   Nikki Govanni's "Poem for a Lady of Leisure..." (Must Jesus Bear the Cross Alone)

   Nikki Giovanni - Talk to Me Poem, I Think I've Got the Blues

Dr. Maya Angelou

2011-02-05T23:56:00.001-05:00

Dr. Maya Angelou is one of the most renowned and influential voices of our time. Hailed as a global renaissance woman, Dr. Angelou is a celebrated poet, memoirist, novelist, educator, dramatist, producer, actress, historian, filmmaker, and civil rights activist.

Maya Angelou was born Marguerite Annie Johnson in St. Louis, Missouri. Her parents divorced when she was only three and she was sent with her younger brother Bailey to live with their grandmother in the small town of Stamps, Arkansas. In Stamps, the young girl experienced the racial discrimination that was the legally enforced way of life in the American South, but she also absorbed the deep religious faith and old-fashioned courtesy of traditional African American life. She credits her grandmother and her extended family with instilling in her the values that informed her later life and career. She enjoyed a close relationship with her younger brother. Unable to pronounce her name because of a stutter, Bailey called her "My" for "My sister." A few years later, when he read a book about the Maya Indians, he began to call her "Maya," and the name stuck.
At age seven, while visiting her mother in Chicago, she was sexually molested by her mother's boyfriend. Too ashamed to tell any of the adults in her life, she confided in her brother. When she later heard the news that an uncle had killed her attacker, she felt that her words had killed the man. She fell silent and did not speak for five years.

Maya began to speak again at 13, when she and her brother rejoined their mother in San Francisco. Maya attended Mission High School and won a scholarship to study dance and drama at San Francisco's Labor School, where she was exposed to the progressive ideals that animated her later political activism. She dropped out of school in her teens to become San Francisco's first African American female cable car conductor. She later returned to high school, but became pregnant in her senior year and graduated a few weeks before giving birth to her son, Guy. She left home at 16 and took on the difficult life of a single mother, supporting herself and her son by working as a waitress and cook, but she had not given up on her talents for music, dance, performance and poetry.

In 1952, she married a Greek sailor named Anastasios Angelopulos. When she began her career as a nightclub singer, she took the professional name Maya Angelou, combining her childhood nickname with a form of her husband's name. Although the marriage did not last, her performing career flourished. She toured Europe with a production of the opera Porgy and Bess in 1954 and 1955. She studied modern dance with Martha Graham, danced with Alvin Ailey on television variety shows and recorded her first record album, Calypso Lady (1957).
She had composed song lyrics and poems for many years, and by the end of the 1950s was increasingly interested in developing her skills as a writer. She moved to New York, where she joined the Harlem Writers Guild and took her place among the growing number of young black writers and artists associated with the Civil Rights Movement. She acted in the historic Off-Broadway production of Jean Genet's The Blacks and wrote and performed a Cabaret for Freedom with the actor and comedian Godfrey Cambridge.
In New York, she fell in love with the South African civil rights activist Vusumzi Make and in 1960, the couple moved, with Angelou's son, to Cairo, Egypt. In Cairo, Angelou served as editor of the English language weekly The Arab Observer. Angelou and Guy later moved to Ghana, where she joined a thriving group of African American expatriates. She served as an instructor and assistant administrator at the University of Ghana's School of Music and Drama, worked as feature editor for The African Review and wrote for The Ghanaian Times and the Ghanaian Broadcasting Company.

During her years abroad, she read and studied voraciously, mastering French, Spanish, Italian, Arabic and the West African language Fanti. She met with the American dissident leader Malcolm X in his visits to Ghana, and corresponded with him as his thinking evolved from the racially polarized thinking of his youth to the more inclusive vision of his maturity.
Maya Angelou returned to America in 1964, with the intention of helping Malcolm X build his new Organization of African American Unity. Shortly after her arrival in the United States, Malcolm X was assassinated, and his plans for a new organization died with him. Angelou involved herself in television production and remained active in the Civil Rights Movement, working more closely with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., who requested that Angelou serve as Northern Coordinator for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. His assassination, falling on her birthday in 1968, left her devastated. With the guidance of her friend, the novelist James Baldwin, she found solace in writing, and began work on the book that would become I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. The book tells the story of her life from her childhood in Arkansas to the birth of her child. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings was published in 1970 to widespread critical acclaim and enormous popular success.

Seemingly overnight, Angelou became a national figure. In the following years, books of her verse and the subsequent volumes of her autobiographical narrative won her a huge international audience. She was increasingly in demand as a teacher and lecturer and continued to explore dramatic forms as well. She wrote the screenplay and composed the score for the film Georgia, Georgia (1972). Her screenplay, the first by an African American woman ever to be filmed, was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize.
Angelou has been invited by successive Presidents of the United States to serve in various capacities. President Ford appointed her to the American Revolution Bicentennial Commission and President Carter invited her to serve on the Presidential Commission for the International Year of the Woman. President Clinton requested that she compose a poem to read at his inauguration in 1993. Angelou's reading of her poem "On the Pulse of the Morning" was broadcast live around the world.

Since 1981, Angelou has served as Reynolds Professor of American Studies at Wake Forest University in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. She has continued to appear on television and in films including Poetic Justice (1993) and the landmark television adaptation of Roots (1977). She has directed numerous dramatic and documentary programs on television and directed her first feature film, Down in the Delta, in 1996.
The list of her published works now includes more than 30 titles. These include numerous volumes of verse, beginning with Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water 'Fore I Die (1971). Books of her stories and essays include Wouldn't Take Nothing For My Journey Now (1993) and Even the Stars Look Lonesome (1997). She has continued the compelling narrative of her life in the books Gather Together in My Name (1974), Singin' and Swingin' and Gettin' Merry Like Christmas (1976), The Heart of a Woman (1981), All God's Children Need Traveling Shoes (1987) and A Song Flung Up to Heaven (2002).
In 2000, Dr. Angelou was honored with the Presidential Medal of the Arts; she received the Ford's Theatre Lincoln Medal in 2008. The same year, she narrated the award-winning documentary film The Black Candle and published a book of guidance for young women, Letter to My Daughter.
Maya Angelou participated in a series of live broadcasts for Achievement Television in 1991, 1994 and 1997, taking questions submitted by students from across the United States. The interview with Maya Angelou on this web site has been condensed from these broadcasts.

Yes I Can

by Dr. Maya Angelou

When the land became water and
Water thought it was God,
Consuming lives here, sparing lives there,
Swallowing buildings, and devouring cities.
It was power, mighty power, grown careless
And intoxicated with itself, and
The American people were tested.

As a result of our tumultuous history,
There resides a thought in the American psyche
Which ennobles us high above the problems which beset us.
It appears and evicts despair.
It enters and wrests fear from its lodging.

Simply put, the idea is,
"Yes I can."
"I can overcome."

The one time slave says, "I have proved and am still
proving - I can overcome slavery."

The one time slave owner says, "I have proved and am still
proving - I can overcome slavery."

The North says, "I have proved and am still proving - I can
overcome the Civil War."

The South says, "I have proved and am still proving - I can
overcome the Civil War."

The American people can say rampant crime has not turned
our masses into criminals, and blissful peace has not lulled
us into contented laziness.

This song that was so needed by Americans when it was
written one hundred years ago and needed fifty years ago
by Americans during the Civil Rights Movement, will be of
great use to use, these days, as we reel beneath the blows of
a violent hurricane.

We shall overcome.
We shall overcome.
We shall overcome, I pray.
Deep in my heart, I do believe, we shall overcome.
Let us all pray.
Let us all work.
And, I know, we shall overcome.

My name is Maya Angelou. I am an American

by Dr. Maya Angelou

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin'."
I'm whispering "I was lost,
Now I'm found and forgiven."

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
And need His strength to carry on.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
Who received God's good grace, somehow!

Poetry Out Loud Excerpt 2

2011-02-05T20:56:00.000-05:00

Maya Angelou's Africa

2011-02-03T19:47:00.000-05:00

2011-02-03T00:31:00.001-05:00

All My Life
Uploaded by camron46. - Music videos, artist interviews, concerts and more.

Kwame Dawes - Haiti Poems

2011-01-04T23:39:00.000-05:00

In Haiti, Writer Kwame Dawes Tells of Quake Aftermath Through Poetry

"I cry, and then I laugh. Just like that, in a few seconds, I laugh, and then I cry, and I dream again."

Haiti Poem: Bebe's Wish

Haiti Poem: Mother of Mothers

Kwame Senu Neville Dawes (born 1962) is a poet, actor, editor, critic, musician and professor of English at the University of South Carolina in Columbia.
Dawes was born in Ghana in 1962 and grew up in Jamaica where he attended Jamaica College and the University of the West Indies at Mona. He studied and taught in New Brunswick, Canada on a Commonwealth Scholarship. As a PhD student at the University of New Brunswick, he was editor-in-chief of the student newspaper, The Brunswickan.

Since 1992 he has been teaching at the University of South Carolina. He is a Professor in English and also Distinguished Poet in Residence, Director of the South Carolina Poetry Initiative and Director of the USC Arts Institute. He is also the faculty advisor for the publication Yemassee.

Dawes collaborated with San Francisco-based writer and composer Kevin Simmonds on Wisteria: Twilight Songs from the Swamp Country which debuted at Royal Festival Hall in 2006 and featured sopranos Valetta Brinson and Valerie Johnson.
In 2009, Dawes won an Emmy Award in the category of New Approaches to News & Documentary Programming: Arts, Lifestyle & Culture. His project documented HIV/AIDS in Jamaica, interspersed with poetry, photographs, and other media. The website "Livehopelove.com" is the culmination of his project.

   Haiti Poem: Storm by Kwame Dawes

   Haiti Poem: Ganthier by Kwame Dawes

   Haiti Poem: Precious Are The Feet of Those... by Kwame Dawes

   Haiti Poem: Boy in Blue by Kwame Dawes

Voices from Haiti: Tomb (Kreyol version)

2011-01-04T20:28:00.000-05:00

Freedom's Drum

2010-11-07T12:19:00.000-05:00

Jessie Mae Hemphill - You Can Talk About Me

2010-09-18T00:34:00.000-04:00

sharon3.wmv

2010-09-18T00:21:00.000-04:00

Spoken Word

2010-09-17T23:55:00.004-04:00

Spoken Word -- My Altar Call

Spoken Word Life is Short (wake up)

Spoken Word .wmv

"Patriotic Me" THE CORNEL WEST THEORY

2010-09-14T21:37:00.000-04:00

A BLACK WOMAN'S SMILE

2010-06-09T21:18:00.002-04:00

A BLACK WOMAN'S SMILE BY TY GRAY EL: SPOKEN WORD

(I Get Lifted) Jesse Adams Jr. .m4v

2010-05-29T01:51:00.000-04:00

Gil Scott Heron - Message

2010-05-16T20:28:00.000-04:00

Gil Scott Heron - Message to the Messengers

A powerful message from a powerful voice. Very profound and an excellent point that needed to be made.

Gil Scott-Heron - "Where Did The Night Go"

Gil Scott-Heron: Definition of a Poet

Gil Scott-Heron - Beginnings (The First Minute of a New Day)

Gil Scott Heron - Washington D.C

Gil Scott-Heron | Three Miles Down

Gil Scott-Heron | We Almost Lost Detroit

Gil Scott-Heron - Beginnings (The First Minute of a New Day)

2010-05-16T19:59:00.000-04:00

Dr. Angela Davis - Are Prisons Obsolete?

2010-05-16T19:52:00.000-04:00

The Sun

2010-05-03T04:35:00.000-04:00

The Lonely Sun

Nina Simone - Here Comes the Sun

I Am That Man

2010-05-03T04:33:00.000-04:00

Thank You Lord by Maya Angelou

2010-04-30T11:02:00.000-04:00

The Last Poets "Take Your Time" (S01 E03)

2010-04-30T09:40:00.000-04:00

Nikki Giovanni "Talk To Me Poem" (S01 E01)

2010-04-30T09:38:00.000-04:00

"Our Vision Is Our Voice" Sonia Sanchez (Def Poetry)

2010-04-30T09:36:00.000-04:00

Sonia Sanchez "Put on the sleeves of love."

2010-04-30T09:34:00.000-04:00

2010-03-18T03:50:00.000-04:00

Intimate Thoughts of YouBy, Norma Jean Davis

Intimate thoughts of being with you
Leaves my body embraced in hot
Passionate heat.
Of wanting to be held in your arms
At night
Feeling the strong but yet tender caress
Of your hands touching and comforting
The places that only you can my love.
Your magical touch starts with you
Making love to my mind stroking ever
So gently, your words are like that of
An old R&B melody feeling me softly
With your tender words of love.
And then your stimulating me with the
Physical touches of your hands.
Feeling your lips kiss me gently upon mine.
With the tip of your tongue, you part my lips
And take my tongue into your mouth and
Suck deeply tasting how sweet it is.
While your hands make their own pathway to
And fro over my curves and finally you reach
My tunnel of hot juices.
My body responds to your touch as my hips
Rise up off the bed wanting you to caress me
There with more depth.
Your kisses make their way to the center between
My breast and you take your tongue and trace a
Wet heart there.
Then you continue your kisses over to my nipples
That is now hard and swollen from your touch.
Slowly you travel down to my navel and you planet
Small lick kisses there.
And continue your journey until ...Until mmmmm
Mmmmm you are feasting on my honey cove.

Distant Love

2010-02-22T18:15:00.001-05:00

Distant Love
By Tiffany B.

My life has been so empty for so long,
no one to love or call my own.
I patiently waited for that time to come,
To share this special with someone.

Until you came from the mist, unexpectedly,
Taking me as I am and accepting me.
You filled the emptiness that laid inside,
releasing me form my bitterness and pride.

We shared endless moments together,
questioning if the feelings were true,
Not realizing how fast time had flew.
The time had come for me to part and go away,
The words goodbye I had refused to say.

I am now miles away from the one I love,
things are so different, but your still all I think of.
A day seems like year and a month feels like forever,
I think about the times we spent, and THAT
I will always treasure.

Your soft brown eyes that made me shy away,
your cute little smile that brightened my day.
Your gentle touch that gave me chills,
and your whole body in itself that gave
me thrills.

I'll wait patiently until we can touch again,
but i am now more satisfied because you
are more than just my friend.
To bring back those moments, and to
finally see your smile,
And hope that things will remain the same
for a while.

My feelings for you are now stronger than before,
and your love is something I will not ignore.
See now, a part of you has grown in me,
I love you always and forever it will be.

2009-11-02T16:28:00.001-05:00

Free the Scott Sisters. Please put the petition on your page and encourage all your friends to sign. We can make a difference when we work together. http://www.change.org/actions/view/free_the_scott_sisters_2 http://www.tagged.com/freethescottsisters Learn more here - JUSTICE FOR ALL http://www.ronsworldlife.com/

Can a Sistah Get Some Love...

2009-09-10T11:37:00.005-04:00

My Single Sistahs, I love you and truly feel your pain, however, you are not Michelle Obama, and you will probably not end up with Barack ... or Denzel. If you want to find the right one, lose the high ideal and get your priorities in order.
I sympathize with Black women because it’s true that 71 percent of Black grad students are female and outnumber Black men in the general population 7 to 1. But maybe we’ve all heard the one about "successful Black women being unable to find suitable Black mates", well it's not about ineligible men. And if you are doing this by the numbers, ladies, then your outlook is bleak. But it’s not about the numbers—“successful” Black men made the same lame claim back in the day. It’s about choices and how we measure success. Black women sometimes resent Black men because, with all the educated Black women, they seem to have choices in mates that we don’t. I promise you, quantity and quality are different. Please trust that it takes more than an education and a successful career to be wife or husband material. And women think if we wait long enough, we will find our own Denzel Washington. The problem is, there isn’t enough Denzel to go around. If we want to marry a Black man, it seems as if we have only a few choices:

Sugar Daddy

ACTS LIKE: Your Dad
SOUNDS LIKE: Barry White
YOU KNOW IT’S HIM: When he collapses dead on top of you

Daddy-O is frequently the old guy in the club wearing a Chess King suit and Stacy Adams on his feet. He’s married and has worked at the same factory for 20 years. His wifey’s breasts are getting long and veiny, but he’s got the money to pay for the attentions of young ladies. So he sneaks out after second shift, goes line-dancing at the club and builds himself a stable of tenderonis who eventually break him for rent, clothes, cars and food, and he breaks them off four whole minutes of lovin’—if he can get it up. Wifey finds a hotel receipt, they fight, make up and it starts all over again.

Pierre Delacroix

LOOKS LIKE: Kanye West
SOUNDS LIKE: He needs some bass in his voice
YOU KNOW IT’S HIM: He carries a croquet mallet everywhere he goes.

Pierre thinks he is better than everyone, including you. He has a nice ride, an Ivy League education and the personality of an English muffin: White and flat, with lots of nooks and crannies to hold the remnants of his Blackness, that inherent connection most of us have with people of color from all walks of life. He’s got an English accent even though he’s only even been to London, Ontario. Pierre is a trifle dandy and intentionally doesn’t exude any masculine qualities people might find offensive, leading people to call him “Dela-question-mark.” Secretly, he wishes he knew who he was.

D'militant
LOOKS LIKE: A mailroom clerk
SMELLS LIKE: Dirty khakis
YOU KNOW IT’S HIM: He’s driving your car.

D'militant is railing against The Man by refusing to work for The Man. Scratch that. He works—kinda works—the system, if you know what I mean. He works, but just hard enough to keep a gig but not hard enough so anyone would notice. He’s nice enough, if only he wanted something out of life. He goes to work (late) and becomes what people pejoratively call the “goldbrick-on-shift.” He sometimes does enough work to get by, sometimes not. Sometimes, he lacks drive and just settles into a mailroom gig, where he can nap between mail runs. He often just keeps a job long enough to collect unemployment. He works fast food sometimes—which is a laudable, honest vocation—and will sometime get promoted to key manager (aka Straw Boss). He’ll keep that key for 10 years or better until finally someone asks him why he doesn’t try to get promoted. “I prefer not to,” he says.

…and the list goes on, and it doesn’t get any better, right? So by looking for an eligible Black man toting a brand-name education or an advanced degree (if earning potential or whatever is to be our measure for eligibility) they are effectively chasing a minority within a minority because we think that most Black men are all out stealing hubcaps, sucking on neck-bones, chasing down white women or, as magical as Black men want to be, maybe all three at once. Eligible Black men, we think, can have their pick of educated Black women (assuming they even date Black women), as if merely having a job, an education and a pulse makes a woman “wife material.” While there may be a lot of women available to Black men, Some may not be sistahs you want to spend your life with. They are mostly variations on a few themes:

Dr. Donhavaman

LOOKS LIKE: She needs some sleep.
SOUNDS: Angry. At everyone.
YOU KNOW IT’S HER: She’ll tell you.

She has five undergraduate degrees, a Ph.D. and three cars, but can’t butter toast. She was so focused on being a successful Black woman that learning the finer points of the womanly art of wifery slipped from her agenda. She can do outpatient surgery, but doesn’t know what a dustpan is for. She can draw up a budget for the entire year but can’t get down in the bedroom to save her soul.

Poetess

SMELLS LIKE: Patchouli and Kools
EATS: Hummus. And other women.
WORKS: Ha! Draws a check on some kind of work-study/SSI scam

Poetess is usually a reformed wanton woman of some sort trying to convince you that she’s healed her life through the power of poetry. She spent half a semester in Creative Writing 090, and she quotes Hemingway, for Christ’s sake. She normally has a typical name like Faloojah but has taken to calling herself “Bush Queen” or some made-up African name she found in Ebony magazine. She writes poetry and reads it at every opportunity, these mildly lyrical rants. She’s so deep; she stopped wearing deodorant and decided that fellatio is “not the way of the goddess.” Good luck my Sistah!!!

The Power of Words

2009-08-28T18:31:00.003-04:00

Your words, your dreams, and your thoughts have power to create conditions in your life.
What you speak about, you can bring about.

If you keep saying you can't stand your job, you might lose your job.

If you keep saying you can't stand your body, your body can become sick.

If you keep saying you can't stand your car, your car could be stolen or just stop operating.

If you keep saying you're broke, guess what? You'll always be broke.

If you keep saying you can't trust a man or trust a woman, you will always find someone in your life to hurt and betray you.

If you keep saying you can't find a job, you will remain unemployed.

If you keep saying you can't find someone to love you or believe in you, your very thought will attract more experiences to confirm your beliefs.

If you keep talking about a divorce or break up in a relationship, then you might end up with it.

Turn your thoughts and conversations around to be more positive and power packed with faith, hope, love and action.
Don't be afraid to believe that you can have what you want and deserve.

Watch your Thoughts, they become words.
Watch your Words, they become actions.
Watch your Actions, they become habits..
Watch your Habits, they become character.
Watch your Character, for it becomes your Destiny.

The minute you settle for less than you deserve, you get even less than you settle for.

Thought I would share this with you.

In the search for Me, I discovered Truth.
In the search for Truth, I discovered Love.
In the search for Love, I discovered GOD.

And in God, I have found Everything.

Peace & Blessings

BEAUTIFUL CHRISTIAN SISTER

2009-08-28T18:02:00.003-04:00

"A woman's heart should be so hidden in Christ
That a man should have to seek Him first to find her."

When I say... 'I am a Christian' I'm not shouting 'I'm clean living,'
I'm whispering 'I was lost, Now I'm found and forgiven..'

When I say... 'I am a Christian' I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say.. 'I am a Christian' I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak and need His strength to carry on..

When I say.. 'I am a Christian' I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed and need God to clean my mess.

When I say... 'I am a Christian' I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible, but God believes I am worth it.

When I say... 'I am a Christian' I still feel the sting of pain...
I have my share of heartaches, so I call upon His name.

When I say... 'I am a Christian' I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner Who received God's good grace, somehow!

Pretty is as Pretty does... But beautiful is just plain beautiful!

Maya Angelou

Peace & Blessings

WOW MAYA!!!

2009-08-12T02:07:00.002-04:00

You are in love with Tommy,

Because his last name is Hilfiger,

But behind closed doors, Tommy,

Is calling you a n*gger,

But you could care less,

Because you have been taught to dress to impress,

If I ask you about your true history,

You would have to look on the back of your jeans and Guess,

You come up in the club wearing Versace,

Clothes made by a homosexual male,

So even when you say you are straight,

It is very hard to tell,

And for footwear, you wear Timberlands,

Even under the sun,

That same tree that's the symbol for them,

Could have been the same one your ancestors were hung from,

I cannot forget Nautica,

When was the last memory you have of ships,

Coming to North America in shackles,

Being beaten over the back with whips,

And to my beautiful black queens,

Whose creative womb has become barren,

I am confused because your face says Nefertiti,

But your sweater reads Donna Karen,

When was the last time you saw Liz Claiborne,

Conversing with black women,

But as soon as her name is printed on a purse,

To Macy's you quickly go running,

Ralph Lauren doesn't even look at black men,

Unless they are driving him around town,

But as soon as that slave master appears on the back of a horse,

You put whatever you have picked up down,

My people reclaim your status in this world and in your life,

F.U.B...U. in case you didn't know, stands for ( For Us By Us),

Buying black will someday suffice,

Do you k now who owns Timberland fashion?

Well, Timberland is owned by the president of the KKK,

Surprised ? Don't be.

GO AND HUG YOUR "MICHAEL"

2009-07-30T14:23:00.002-04:00

by Maya Angelou. - July 2009

Yesterday I cried watching the Michael Jackson memorial.
I cried for a little black boy who felt the world didn't understand him.
I cried for a little black boy
who spent his adulthood chasing his childhood.

And I thought about all the young black boys out there
who may feel that the world doesn’t understand them.
The ones who feel that the world does not understand
their baggy jeans, their swagger, their music, their anger, their struggles,
their fears or the chip on their shoulder.

I worry that my son, may too, one day feel lonely in a wide, wide world.
I cried for young children of all colors who may live their life
Feeling like a misfit, feeling like no one
understands their perspective, or their soul.
What a burden to carry.

As a mother, I cried for Katherine Jackson
because no mother should ever bury a child. Period.
And I think about all the pain, tears and sleepless nights
that she must have endured seeing her baby boy in inner pain,
seeing him struggle with his self- esteem, and his insecurities
and to know that he often felt unloved.
Even while the world loved him deeply.

How does it feel to think that the unconditional love
we give as mothers just isn’t enough to make our children feel whole?
I wonder if she still suffers thinking, “What more could I have done?”
Even Moms of music legends aren’t immune to Mommy guilt, I suppose.

When Rev. Al Sharpton (who always delivers one “Awesome” funeral
speech), said to Michael’s children “ Your Daddy was not Strange . . . .
It was strange what your daddy had to deal with”
I thought of all of the strange things of the world
that my children would have to deal with.
Better yet, the things I hope they won’t ever have to deal with anymore.

And as a mother raising a young black boy, I feel recommitted and yet a
little confused as to how to make sure my son is sure enough
Within himself to take on the world. Especially a “strange” one.

To love himself enough to know that
even when the world doesn’t understand you,
Tries to force you into it’s mold or treats you unkindly,
you are still beautiful, strong, and Black.

How do I do that?
Today, I’m taking back “childhood”
as an inalienable right for every brown little one.
In a world that makes children into “booty-Shakin”, mini- adults
long before their time,
I’m reclaiming the playful, the innocent, run-around outside, childhood
as the key ingredient in raising confident adults.

Second, I will not rest until my little black boy,
My Michael, knows that his broad nose is beautiful,
his choclately brown skin is beautiful, and his thick hair is beautiful.
And nothing or no one, can take that away from him.
Now, ain’t we Bad, ain’t we Black, and ain’t we Beautiful!

Natural Star - For Michael Jackson

2009-07-06T11:10:00.002-04:00

Friday, June 26, 2009
Natural Star - For Michael Jackson

© 1991 by Alice Walker

I am in mourning
For your face
The one I used to love
To see
Leaping, glowing
Upon the
The stage
The mike
Eager...
Thrusting
In your
Fist.

I am in mourning
For your face
The shining eyes
The happy teeth
The look that said
I am the world
And aren't you
Glad
Not to mention
Deeply
In luck.

I am in mourning
For
The sweet brown innocence
Of your skin
Your perfect nose
The shy smile
That lit you
Like a light.

I am in mourning
For a face
The Universe
In its goodness
Makes but once
Each
Thousand
Years
and smiles
And sends it out
To spread great joy
Itself well pleased.

I am in mourning
For your beloved face
So thoroughly
And undeservedly
Released.

Oh, my pretty little
Brother. Genius. Child.
Sing to us. Dance.

Rest in peace.

***

From Collected Poems (Her Blue Body Everything We Know) 1965-1990 by Alice Walker

FATHERHOOD & PERSONAL RESPONSIBLITY

2009-06-23T11:57:00.004-04:00

RESPONSIBLE FATHERHOOD! - HAPPY FATHER'S DAY OTHG!

THE FULL TOWN MEETING ON FATHERHOOD & PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY

Black Ice

2009-06-21T20:34:00.001-04:00

Black Ice - The Ugly Show

2009-06-06T20:46:00.008-04:00

Life Is Fine
by Langston Hughes

I went down to the river,I set down on the bank.I tried to think but couldn't,So I jumped in and sank.I came up once and hollered!I came up twice and cried!If that water hadn't a-been so coldI might've sunk and died.But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!

I took the elevator Sixteen floors above the ground.I thought about my babyAnd thought I would jump down.I stood there and I hollered!I stood there and I cried!If it hadn't a-been so highI might've jumped and died.But it was High up there! It was high!

So since I'm still here livin',I guess I will live on.I could've died for love--But for livin' I was bornThough you may hear me holler,And you may see me cry--I'll be dogged, sweet baby,If you gonna see me die.Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!

Words To Think About

2009-05-12T01:49:00.000-04:00

I WANT

"Warrior's Love" Malak Salaam

Hurry Home....... the clean version

Spoken Word Poetry THE MALE EGO

Jill Scott - Words of real LIFE

2009-04-20T22:21:00.002-04:00

Def Poetry: Jill Scott

Def Jam Poetry - Jill Scott "Nothing Is For Nothing"

Thank you Renee

COMING BACK BLACK

2009-04-14T22:45:00.000-04:00

COMING BACK BLACK

In a round table discussion about whether reincarnation was really
possible, a financially struggling single woman said,

"I want to come back as a rich white woman's poodle that's pampered
And rides around all day in her luxury car."

A tired waitress said, "I want to come back rich and make a lot of
Money and be a mega-super recording star".

The frustrated computer tech said, "If I can come back, I want to
be The President, so I can change a lot of things about this world near and
far."

Another woman thought about it and said, "I don't know if it's
possible, but if I can... God, please let me come back a
BLACK WOMAN.

I want to come back with a mind fierce and sharp,
with a spiritual faith that never waivers or doubts.
With a smile that is warm, and a body divine - with honey,
cinnamon
Or chocolate skin, draped in purple and gold. And, whether
young or old, always have enough money so the words broke, layaway,
overdue, or postdated check aren't in MY vocabulary.

I want to be a sister to my sister.
A woman wise when choosing my mate or a date.
I want to be able to cook greens, barbecue chicken, macaroni and cheese,
cornbread, a peach cobbler and a lemon pound cake all at the same time.

I want to come back a BLACK WOMAN with self-esteem, worthy of being
treated like a QUEEN by my King. A woman with patience, love, and wisdom
for children.
A BLACK WOMAN with subscriptions to Essence, Jet, Ebony, Black Enterprise,
and the Wall Street Journal.

I want to come back a BLACK WOMAN with at least one great
diamond from the Motherland on my finger.

I want to come back with the quiet courage of Rosa Parks, the voice of Ella
Fitzgerald, the political courage of Ida B. Wells, the determination of
Harriet Tubman, spiritual poise of Susan L.Taylor, the business savvy of
Oprah Winfrey,
the eloquence of Dr. Maya Angelou, and be the author of bestseller books
like Iyanla Vanzant.

I want to come back as a BLACK WOMAN, who can stay focused on GOD
regardless of the circumstances. I want to be SAVED from
the penalty of sin.

I want to never let what a person says or does change my demeanor.
I want to be humble, and to love and be loved unconditionally.
I want skin that is flawless and soft, eyes of discernment, and lips that
speak ONLY the truth.
I want hands of gentleness and feet of prosperity.
I want to be a lawyer to enforce the laws which man has broken.
If reincarnation is real, please let me come back as a BLACK WOMAN!!!"

I wanted to send this to all my sisters. We sometimes forget how
GREAT we really are.
Please pass this on to all the Sisters you know.
For the men that receive this, please pass it on to your wives, mothers,
grandmothers, sisters, aunts, significant others and any
other Black Sisters you know.
Believe me they'll appreciate receiving these words.
BLACK WOMEN ARE WONDERFUL !!!!
Thank you Renee

GOD is With the Living

2009-03-29T23:59:00.000-04:00

GOD is With the Living

One day the controller of death came to me,
He said Wizthom look at this!
What he showed me,
Would have made a fool break down,
And cry,

Worst yet lose his religion,
Yes faith in GOD,
What that none person showed me,
Was a world full of death smoking ruins,

He spoke,

Where was your GOD,
When this was happening,
I looked him straight into those lifeless eyes,

(Said), GOD was with me,
GOD is with the living,
And what you are showing me,
Are shells of what used to be,
Much like a snake shedding its skin,
A butterfly leaven it's cocoon,

My GOD shelters life,
My GOD is life,

All this madness,
That breeds sadness,
GOD has nothing to do with it,

Hell is a place where one is vanished from GODS sight,
You ask what you already know,
GOD is not here,

But here you will remain,
Now I must go to dwell among the living.
peace wisemanspeeks@protected aka wizthom

we all will suffer for what evil does

2009-03-29T23:57:00.000-04:00

we all will suffer for what evil does

i can remember the time when Jesus my self and the twelve disciple's
were gather on a mountain top,
we ran into a man a pig herder processed with many demons,
as he ran up to Jesus stating i am a tormented soul,
i have many personalities and none of them are me,
i have no control over who i am anymore,

Jesus looked at the man and said i command you ,
to tell me who you are,,
one by one the demons came forth ,

telling Jesus their names,who they serve,
pleading with Jesus not to destroy them,
then Jesus looked at the pigs the man was tending,
and commanded them to flee into a pig,

which they all did,
and then Jesus commanded them to all,
jump into the sea,
which they did,,

this puzzled me at seeing Jesus cast the whole lot,
of pigs into the sea,
i than asked Jesus,
why did you cast all the pigs into the sea,
when the demons only enter one pig?,

Jesus looked at me with a smile and said wizthom,
i forgot which pig they fled into,
therefore i doomed them all.. ,,

at that point i fell on the ground with laughter,
for within a miracle he still taught lessons,
that he to was human ,

of course it took a moment for the disciples to understand,
but when they did they to fell out with laughter,
and that lesson still holds true today,,

all will suffer for the wrongs evil does,,
one way shape or form,,
,peace wisemanspeeks!@protected aka wizthom