If I could bring God back today


If I could bring God back today,
I would say,
“What took You so long
to make me call out your name?”
Nothing has happened to Me
that You couldn’t see
But others wondered,
Where can He be?

If I could bring God back today,
would anything really change?
Without His Father raising Him up,
just how far could He extend His range?

If I could bring God back today,
would I praise Him like they did
back in the day?
I see signs in the World
that only He could cause
Heads bowed, people speaking in tongues
Everyone looking side-to-side
giving reason to pause

If I could bring God back today,
would He even want to stay?
While they have folded hands and arms,
He could stretch His out
and create a brand new Day

Where would I be,
If I could bring God back today?


Would the Devil make me see

that there is only One way?

The Purified Holder


Your label need only say
One word
One that I know is my sustenance
Like thirsting for a piece
that would welcome or not my
animal nature
Like a top is to a bottom
The mission will be accomplished
The way I squeeze your supple skin
provokes a melody not even Beethoven
could arouse
I see your end
And I quiver
I need much more
Much more
Until I’m done
Until I’m done with you
Only one position is possible to empty you
The only way I can accept all of You
The only way to feel accomplished
Though, a vacuum down your middle
could work as well
Apart there is intention
Reconnected 
the time has come and gone
For now
Sometimes, it only takes once
And like a gentle bully
a place is located for you to rest
One that houses or has bedded others like You
Then, I will remove You
Either as trash or to receive my security deposit
in return
We are insatiable

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.

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How could I Love?


How could I love
When I never
Knew what it was?
I held their hands
And made demands
All just because

How could I love
When I never
Knew what it was?

Eyes and a smile
Made living all worthwhile
I gave and gave
What was it to behave?
Mama told me to save
Like voices from the grave
Now, it’s too hard to shave
Where was the rave?

What can I give
Without a will to live?

Dreams


 

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My dream has come
And stayed with me
Through everything
I have wanted
To be wanted
Needed never                                 
What we can do
no others can
Each year you get older
I hope you have dreams, too
with me in them
directing you
caring for you                                     Caring with you
Showing you love
Be it in a candle
so flickering
Growing brighter
or just a flame
Never changing
Each year you get older
Let your dreams come to life
And know that I am here

See Me


I hear voices

But no one’s home

All these choices

Yet still, I’m all alone

 

Tell Me

Am I bothering You?

I can still see

Why You can’t tell the truth

 

Do You want me to go

Or let You shout it out?

Feeling so low

Why should I do without?

 

Can’t You touch me

Like You used to?

Still Your Baby

Looking to be Your shoe

Will You ever whisper

Sweet things like You used to?

Whisper Baby, Whisper

In this room built for two

 

I know You don’t know it

But, I was leaving anyway

Couldn’t make it fit

So I convinced myself to stay

 

Now, I see You got something on Your mind

No need to fight with yourself

You’re about to run out of precious time

‘Cause I’m about to start seeing somebody else

 

See Me

Always

See Me

Feel Me

Always

See Me

Farewell, my End


I see You there

All skin and bone

Blowing ash as You sit

on nothing

Your squealing makes me weak

for You

I wouldn’t trade places right now

You played

And I stayed so put

‘Til I got to know myself

If only You hadn’t strayed

I wouldn’t have a bony heart

My heart could not follow

You underground

Thick You then were

Cutting through like You were in Class

Lover Bully

Then, You grabbed something else

Or someone else found You

Was the good prize worth it?

But, I promised to see You through

And through you are

I see you there

Still, you are not alone

The memories take over me

Sad, because you have them

All skin and bone

Judgment


My window breaks

as I stare out

What I see won’t

look back at me

The air is dry

through all the cracks

What is there left

on the side I can’t see?

Even the clouds

fail to appear

the closer I pull my chair near

No birds do sing

Awakening heart-strings

Yet, while I stand for this

it pains me to see nothingness

Sunrise

There go the lies

Shrilling

Thrilling

Is there someone

something willing

to draw my shade

so I can be

what I can be

though I can’t believe

the color of my sleeve

after I grieve?

My window breaks

when I look out

And I can’t tell

what’s looking back at me

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 

 

 

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