releasing

full moon. 

merc in retro. 

trippy all around. 

already took effect in one area...

sat under the moonlit night 

and recalled 

negative thoughts, actions, words

that need to be released;

that become roadblocks

to optimal performance.

to name them one by one,

and release them.

the great divide

there's this thick wall 

between us

that wont give way.

we go along 

to get along, 

sleep. eat. play.

going thru motions

like we're building 

for a new day.

just robots

on autopilot

moving bricks away.

one by one.

bit by bit.

without urgency

massive delay.

trying to hide 

the obvious:

that we have no faith

in our tomorrow

decluttered elevation

must free my space of

all things that create blockage,

move to higher ground.

late nite, hangover mornings.

not that im drinking but when i go to bed late, my mornings are terrible..i struggle with getting out of the bed. yet, i never want to go to bed before midnite, go figure.

just finished my summer reading list with shelfari. it looks good. great thing, is the first eight books- i already have. i wont have to spend money on books for awhile. really happy about that.

speaks to intent

sincere intentions

fall on deaf ears

silenced by daydreams;

vice-gripping  productivity 

into less than desireable

works of minimalism.

heads bowed, low

at the lack of pride

attached to work,

reminiscent of generations

gone by

that expected excellence

in every action.

so, is the battle- fear?

one more distraction

hindering things-to-do-lists

from being crossed off 

like horizontal victories

in a tic tac toe game.

the deepest exhales

force escape, 

in being humbled by 

the negative realities

of personal truths

and flaws

and ugliness.

yet, amidst intention 

is the awe-inspiring connection

that all 

that is needed

for victory 

is within.

how do u tap the tree

for the sap?

the healing

oozing 

for consumption

for power

to move mountains, 

one rock at a time.

sincere intentions

finally meeting 

with the accuracy

of the great archer

and the determination

of a single link chain.

to produce harvests,

that match 

calabashes

flowing 

with prosperity 

and prayers.

cloned-dawg

just read a short-short about a wealthy couple who cloned their dog, then went looking for the college kid (now grown woman) who used to dog-sit the last dog. they wanted to recreate past life experiences. started off like it was going to be good. it wasnt. i would've written more twists and turns with it. made the dog psycho or something. instead it was all  about the dumb, cloned dog and how it didnt listen. there is a small undercurrent about the superficiality of spending that kind of money, (quarter million) and the soulless materialism that ego-seekers take pleasure in. on to the next short, in the anthology.

dusting off the grant writer

just received a phone call from a long time friend who i had not spoken to in at least a year. she calls to say she is looking for a grant writer. didnt budge. everyone's "looking". then, she says the magic words, "have funds, can pay." she agreed to a few more terms, asked me to send a functional resume and we will go from there. It will be contractual, so it wont interfere with my daily job. it has been at least two years since my last grant. let me get to dusting things off and getting organized. this could be a great break for me, not to mention a significant financial gain. not name dropping but the potential is great and the client, who she is asking for, is HUGE. 

May the Divine bless my endeavors and allow me all success.

poet smoet

here it is, the last day of national poetry month i have not written one poem. not one, single, solitary poem. do i feel bad? not really. would i have like to have written one? sure. but instead, i have decided to share one of my fav poems by one of my fav poets: Imamu Amiri Baraka.

Ka 'Ba

A closed window looks down on a dirty courtyard, and black people call across or scream or walk across defying physics in the stream of their will Our world is full of sound Our world is more lovely than anyone's tho we suffer, and kill each other and sometimes fail to walk the air We are beautiful people with african imaginations full of masks and dances and swelling chants with african eyes, and noses, and arms,  though we sprawl in grey chains in a place full of winters, when what we want is sun. We have been captured,  brothers. And we labor to make our getaway, into the ancient image, into a new correspondence with ourselves and our black family. We read magic now we need the spells, to rise up return, destroy, and create. What will be the sacred words?  http://www.amiribaraka.com/

deep sleep

i think i'll go crawl up under him now and exhale into restful slumber. if willed, i shall blog manana. if willed, i shall think it. do it. be it.....a writer turned published author! 

til next time...

btw

i did nothing on my things to do list for tuesday. that really sucks. i have the nerve to complain about my project management skills and i wasted away on twitter. smh!

We Begin, Again

i have a few blogs actually. the gaps between dates for the posts is amazing to me. yet, i'm a die-hard for electronic journaling so here we are again:) besides, those other blogs are not fit for public consumption. i need somewhere to vent and rant uncontrollably, without judgements.

the writing bug is coming back. yeaaa! 

i am also excited about reading. i have a few already that i need to churn thru, in addition to putting together a summer reading list.

i'm planning to the do the poem a day, for 30 days activity. this is the mail reason i started this blog. i wanted somewhere for others to come and peer into my world, my madness and my joys.