Items in the Garden of Health


Winter Squash. 20
Organic Peppers. 2 Trays
Organic Lettuce. 2 Trays
Watermelon. 1 Tray. 4 Cups
Cuccumbers. 9 Cups
White Russian. (Kale) 3
Arrugula. 13

Jubilandka Peppers. 4 Cups
Kale. 16 Cups

Garden Beans. 22
White Seeded Lettuce. 8 Trays
Black Seeded Lettuce. 10 Trays 1 Pot
Garden Tomatoes. 17 Cups
Roma Tomatoes. 4 Trays
Organic Tomatoes. 2 Trays

Parsley. 8 Trays
Basil. 2 Trays
Oregano. 1 Tray
Thyme. 7 Cups
Chives. 10 Cups
Dill. 5 Trays (Not Full)

Dr. Doctor


Dr. Doctor
Won’t you help me, please?
You sent me off somewhere
That was just a tease

You knew
Without a shadow of a doubt
That I would return feeling blue
And that my mouth would pout

They must have been friends of yours
And the appointment was made so well
I guess I should have finished my chores
Before you told me to go to Hell

Dr. Doctor
You took an oath
To do no harm as a stocker
Yet you cut me like a loaf

What was the need of a blood test
When your mind was already made up?
How can I ever rest
Feeling the work you did was corrupt?

My trust was taken
Along with your hidden flaws
Dear Lord, was I mistaken
For not seeing your true cause

Dr. Doctor
Your home was brought to work
I heard your boyfriend was a clocker
But for you, he wouldn’t twerk

Dr. Doctor


Dr. Doctor
Won’t you help me, please?
You sent me off somewhere
That was just a tease

You knew
Without a shadow of a doubt
That I would return feeling blue
And that my mouth would pout

They must have been friends of yours
And the appointment was made so well
I guess I should have finished my chores
Before you told me to go to Hell

Dr. Doctor
You took an oath
To do no harm as a stocker
Yet you cut me like a loaf

What was the need of a blood test
When your mind was already made up?
How can I ever rest
Feeling the work you did was corrupt?

My trust was taken
Along with your hidden flaws
Dear Lord, was I mistaken
For not seeing your true cause

Dr. Doctor
Your home was brought to work
I heard your boyfriend was a clocker
But for you, he wouldn’t twerk

Out on a limb…because of “The Solid Rock!”


I am so distressed, right now.

My Jimi Claybrooks piece, “The Solid Rock,” was damaged.  Not only have I tried finding a replacement, I have no been able to connect with the artist.

The framed print is so inspirational and sentimental to me.  In it’s pristine state, I was the envy of all my friends in Atlanta, Georgia.  I purchased #1052 of the limited edition 1800.  It would be okay to have anybody want to ask, “If it was so important to you, why didn’t you protect it better?” I deserve that!  Just like one’s own spirituality, it should be protected…well-grounded.

Things happen.

I am in great hope that I can capture the attention of either the artist, Jimi Claybrooks, or someone who can point me in the direction of a newer print nowhere near the $850 asking price. 

Sometimes, I guess you can put a price on sentimentality.

image

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Dear President Obama


 

 

Martin Luther King, Jr.
Martin Luther King, Jr. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

 

 

    I know I don’t have to tell you the history Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have A Dream” Speech, so I won’t.  At that time, and definitely when you were elected by a landslide in 2008, Americans as well as foreigners alike were hopeful that a change would come in the issue of racial equality.  Dr. King dreamed of a better day for minorities.  Sadly, unfortunately, he was struck down long before he could witness a man he fought so hard for to rise to the mountain top.  Yes sir, you are on the mountain top.  But, it makes one wonder if you truly had the same dream as Dr. King. 

 

 

 

     People still march in front of and around the house that you command.  Jobs are lost, homes lost, lives lost…and still, the hope is there but it seems like it’s fading away.  Though we all know that it’s not just minorities who are in jeopardy of a continuous diminishing livelihood, so much media attention now is comparing Dr. King’s message to your “Yes we can” or even the “Change” messages you promoted.  “Yes we can” is what Blacks and Whites alike chanted back to you, in an effort to get you elected as the first “African-American,” not Black, President of the United States.  I guess in Dr. King’s time, he was considered colored or Negro.  Boy, have the times really changed?  Now, Blacks are considered African-American with thanks to the Reverend Jessie Jackson and his 1988 campaign for your spot.  Yet, the “Change” so many shouted for you has not been felt.  Then again, many minorities feel that it has gotten worse for them since you took over the podium. 

 

 

 

     With jobs being a major focus for Americans, one should wonder how jobs will be created when there is no real demand for products that can’t be afforded.  Education pales due to the fact that once the paper is received and the debt is grieved, it’s all about who you know to get placement in this world.  Then, there are the lucky ones who have the stars lined up for them and feel that the law of prosperity will follow them if they go to the side where money talks.  In other words, once Democrats now become Republicans.  Yes, Republican is synonymous wealth and status.  Democrats are for the hopeless and near-desperate.  As an elected-Democrat, what exactly do you represent?  The podium is yours, the microphone is yours.  Though you stand up straight, it’s actually confusing as to where you stand…for the un-chosen broken.

 

 

 

     I read a poem called, “The Day the Ghetto Died,” and found it to be interesting.

 

 

 

On the day the Ghetto died

 

Malcolm X bowed his head

 

While Martin Luther King stood and cried

 

 

 

On the day the Ghetto Died

 

Some sat and sang a hymn

 

Others just sat and lied

 

Lied about what the white man did for them

 

 

 

On the day the Ghetto Died

 

Little babies ran through streets

 

While their mothers bowed their heads and cried

 

To see their children with shoes on their feets

 

 

 

On the day the Ghetto died

 

The bible was opened even wider

 

To thank the Lord for a bond to be tied

 

And to pray for it to be tighter

 

 

 

In front of the steeple

 

I sat and felt a drop of rain

 

I looked up despite the people

 

And saw Jesus rejoicing over his pain

 

 

 

The pain must have been great

 

For it came down like a herd of angry men

 

But then it stopped

 

And I saw the sky smile again

 

 

 

‘Twas the Day the ghetto died

 

all the great heroes rose from the dead

 

to spread the knowledge they once had to hide

 

to the souls whose hearts now bled

 

 

 

They walked in hundreds of thousands

 

Wearing potato sacks

 

And chains and ropes

 

I can say this – for I was there

 

And in unison they sang the most beautiful hymn

 

 

 

It was one I never got to write

 

Because I could only listen in solemnity

 

It was a song that made me frown

 

 – one that gave me back my dignity

 

 

 

The tone sounded like it came

 

From the chain gang

 

But I couldn’t be sure if it was of

 

Rejoice or of pain

 

 

 

I walked around my beautiful home and cried

 

I looked and saw that I had everything money could buy

 

Then realized how little I had

 

But my ancestors had much pride

 

 

 

 

 

     Can you tell if this author is Republican or Democrat?  One would assume that because the author mentioned “ancestors,” he or she is non-white.  One side doesn’t seem to have to yell to get their point across.  Another side is just simply ignored and floored.  Who could deny the impact of one Oprah, Tyler Perry, Lee Daniels, or Quincy Jones?  They have made their mark on the world.  Crossovers?  Maybe.  Still, even the mighty O still has her bouts with abandonment.  And now, Americans are feeling abandoned by another mighty O.  Are you building your cabin the way you want it to be?  There are laws that are nearly favoring the execution of Blacks, let alone Black males – in a state many believe changed the course of history in 2000.  As time advanced, so has favoritism.  Who now represents our nation for the minorities who want a better life?  Just because of the so-called self-help television shows and books, the destination can’t be reached without support, resources. 

 

 

 

     Let’s give kudos to those who can stand back and thank their lucky stars for a blessed life.  It is with faith that those individuals cultivate their gifts and make them grow.  Also, they should remember how they got to be in their cushy position and not be ashamed to admit that they received help along the way.  Has much sight been lost by tending to the grass in other nations backyards?  When you awaken from your night’s sleep, can you honestly tell your dream without making a joke about it?  Laughter is only a temporary fix and dreams of a better way die when they can’t be fulfilled.  And time heals no one or nothing.  It only makes conditions harsher without proper treatment.

 

 

 

     Would Dr. Martin Luther King be pleased with the conditions minorities face today?  Probably not.  Then again, had his dream been kept alive 1988 would have never happened and the 2000 election would never have seen the light of day.   You would still have had your chance to speak for the disadvantage man and woman.  But you more than likely would have been forced to keep your promises of a better day.

 

 

 

     Don’t be that father that went out for milk and never came back.  Or, the one who pops back in from time to time to say, “Hey, remember me?”  Almost two years into our new house and the steps still haven’t been fixed.  You’re the only one who knows where the materials are to fix the steps. 

 

 

 

     The ghetto should have died by now and changed into a neighborhood.  Though it’s like that way for so many, change just can’t happen fast enough.  Some can’t even remember their dreams.

 

 

 

      And, to think, the movie “The Butler” made you cry.

 

 

 

 

 

Signed,

 

 

 

Ms Aerd 

 

 

//

 

 

The Salesman


 

Two doors left that will tell

whether or not my needs will be

cared for

How dire I am for

letting myself get so damn dire

Keep the smile or

paint one on when I get there

clear the throat first

by talking to myself

But it’s always show time

Never knowing who I might meet

So pitch perfect

Demeanor and persona well-crafted

Who or what could resist this cad

 before they open up

Be it me who prostitutes for an establishment

that takes more than their fair share

Though the lingo may not be the same

work means a sell

And quotas consume me

And humiliation arises when they don’t sign

Work means a sell

as long as I can walk

I have been programmed to not take No

to not hear No

Like a rape of the world

there lies the aggressive and the submissive

A refusal right now

means stalking from now on

So I must adhere to the plan

So as I eat

 while viewing all my paid in full receipts

I recall the fear in myself

instilled in them when I get my foot in the door

Where is the true compassion

when grandpa writes his last check

and immediately checks to confirm his funds

I am my pimps moneymaker

who will stoop to any level to build his name

And stoop I will then do

when I get down to the wire

Two doors left

The big bad wolf am I

craving the little pigs

for my dollar signs in the sky

And should they not let me in

I can be a pest’s best friend

Just that next time

it will be me doing

the unscheduled drive by

Bitch slaps hurt everybody

when they can’t see the benefits

of loyalty

 

The Ferryman and the Eagle


What paleness precedes

The Ferryman and the Eagle

Arriving with legal tender’s watchful eye

Even crumbled

it watches and often burns like it yearns

As if cultivating a harvest

it stretches beyond boundaries

Where tablecloths once flourished

picnics are back in session at home

Gone are the tele-commuted conference calls

Say welcome to the bedroom attire that

accompanies you to the local grocer

Every pence spent

reaches with anticipation of the next deposit

Maybe the stomach can be fooled

Maybe the mind will give the Ferryman a gift

this Christmas

A time for giving

But Ferryman takes something away

after every delivery

Confidence dwindles when asked who your provider is

No matter how you answer

the Ferryman giggles a bit heartier

Soon, the Eagle will feel the need to stop by

unexpectedly

chirping every day, every minute, every hour

placing demands, making demands

expecting interest

as like peer pressure

The rut of unscheduled visits

Confusion becomes delusion

Until the Ferryman

lets you invite him in

 makes himself at home

Uncloaks himself

and settles in and watches with you

a reality TV show