Woman Water Salt Sand and Sea
by Maven Huggins on Tuesday, November 17, 2009 at 5:31pm
Woman Water Salt Sand and Sea
I AM
Woman made Wombyn
I AM
As Water to the Womb, so too I seek my Level
I AM
Water Wombmyn carrying life and sustenance
All things living
I AM
Peculiar, the Ocean, just like she
Laps, tickles and reaches to your feet, lovingly at the Shore
Constantly moving energy,
Never static
Waves, Eaves
So too is she deep, threatening, unknown in the Seas
Home to beings swimming, existing, unknown and lurking there
And when she rages in storms
Gathering wind like sand to throw against your demands
I AM
Yemanja
All things, as One
No separation, No difference
Truth and Salt to Heal and Hurt your Wounds
I AM
That
All That
Woman
Made by Womb
Reclaiming all
Pieces of power
To Be
Wombmyn,
And then, with, all you need to live,
Truth, Water, Salt, Sand and Sea
6:14pm Thursday, November 17, 2009
This Morning
The night last was so beautifully tropique
I did not close my windows and shutters
It was rewarding for the hours remained delicious
The morning, overcast, still blue and cool
But had I awakened any later, emerging to my great room with any delay further
Green tanagers would have a nest in the light bowl of my ceiling fan
Not even the one they have always scoured, but the other one in the living room
Amidst velvet jacquard fabrics and above silk rugs
Those birds have no respect of people, place or space
Pooping on my Reiki book as they surveyed real estate
Last Night
Nights like this are what tourists crave
Those the locals may not shut out, aver closing up at dusk, till later, bedtime, to never
Clear starry nights led by bright Eastern star planets
Balmy breezy climates
Rustling trees and flapping balisier leaves
Various crickets, frogs and forest insects, intersect, in cadence and song
Bats darting as blind shadows intermittently, lead
The allure, to be up, to be out, breathing the tepid temperature. Aire
Being enveloped by nights as full to enjoy as day
Yesterday
Even yesterday’s: closing with a certain Je ne se quois
A parting sense, a vague feeling
A shift, a completion, a new season
Perhaps
Something that yet has to name itself; to explore and fit
I did not hold to capture it when the thought first occurred
In Between Time
And truly as I reflect, owing to the night’s atmosphere, how I slept
I awaken feeling new or renewed
Stretching and limbering the body I am to make a practice
Awakening with yesterday’s Chinese Snake horoscope:
Happy, Blossomed and Serene
9:18am Wednesday, October 14, 2009The night of a dawn is as a silent friend
To sit, absorb, expand and be in awe
The cool embrace vastness
The moon-less sky teaches the stars in constellation
One wonders if it is possible to reach and stretch far enough
To a distant everlasting self
Abiding with each time never changing
As the stars, the night
Calling for a relax reclining
At the incline under the Chinese bamboo
In the shade of the shadows of the croton hedges
To stare in study
Capture a memory\etched in hard to see twinkles
You see when you don’t look
The big dipper is directly overhead
Nights like these when sleep is rend
Dreamers wander out to freshen their heads
Writers pick up pen to tell
Imaginary folk fly travelling to distant lands
While hunger imposes
When the muse names zaboca the fruit of foods
Food of all foods
To be eaten for breakfast, lunch, dinner
Middle of the night when you should be sleeping
Compensated blessings
Has you wondering what will you eat when it is out of season macrobiotic?
Nights like these tear your heart full of pieces
The perfect prefect standing guard for beauty of night cool stars
Wishing for a reclining chair to take it all in
To sit and sketch, pen on pad, to draw the lines, grid and alignment
Pondering what color to draw the sky and scheming layout, patterns and process
Nights like these deserve their posterity
For and by us mere stupid humans
Defying comprehension it is we mortals who need confirmation
We were here
The stars, they never leave nor move
The friend that stays, from your beginning for too your end
And remains after to tell
Of who can hear/Of who was here and what time they deported.
In honor of my new found friend and soul mate, Kenko, 1300s
4:29am Tuesday October 13, 2009
----------------------
The Price to Pay for the Journey, (ONE)
It is not easy
I can tell you straight of pain and agony
But oh the victory
To live the strength from crossing over fragility
The price to pay for the journey
It is only for the brave
For there is no company
Only crabs and egos to bring down Jericho
And those who will see it to the end
Making the rounds, walking the talk
Bringing down walls and creating ones own breakwaters
Not giving up to darkness
The price to pay for the journey
Are you ready?
Are you willing?
Can you take this bidding?
Answer the call of the maker, the ancestors
To be more than the futility of man, to overcome the many ways women falter
Giving up our priceless jewels and unknown power
It is to withstand the temptation and hold your own hand
The price to pay for the journey
Knowing the rejection of being proud
Having a voice to speak aloud
Knowing your self and your beginnings
Divining ones own path, choice and makings
Such ownership (of self) leaves you without allegiance or alliances
It is a daily, moment-by-moment struggle
Between the malaise of oppression and pseudo-freedom
Whether it is my own or another’s imposition of ‘shoulda’
It is the price to pay for the journey
Doing without and still living full
Choosing neither the greater or lesser of evils
Turning back against blows to the feminine eagle
In the process of becoming sage, wise and free
Living not in illusions and lies for deception
But in a liberating reality
To make a different way
Teach others you are whom you say
Show the children alternative proverbs
Strength to be fully-grown and evolved angels
Not mere boy-men and baby-women
It is the reciprocity, the giving back of victory
To those who seek the path
Making their own way, claiming their own price
To pay for the journey
12/02/03 10:46pm; 12/04/03 6:05pm
---------------------------
The Price to Pay for the Journey 2 (TWO)
Here is my passage - you have passage
This is my story, my testimony
Of paths I have tread, the walk I laid down
The ways still to seek that I dread
But in all my nakedness is the strength
Where is yours
Story, strength (and) or testimony
You know
The price to pay for your journey
Mine has been filled with perceptions and illusions
Of being alone, difficult and too intoned
These the things that are said
Of persons, women, in particular, who keep their head
The indictments made to cut you down
When your aim too high, your reach beyond your crown
Your focus is not small, nor easy; far
You are peace and justice, not war
Not within and with self anyway
But with oppressors and their accomplices
Any man, woman or thing that standing in your way
This has been the price for my journey
The price to pay for the journey
Where is yours; story, strength and testimony?
Of unmatched mates
The choice not to take single motherhood
Laid barren when in a sea of unguided children
Empress say a missing generation
Where is your struggle to make a life beautiful
From the ghetto blight
To monied depravity
Reaping and sowing death, no longer just ‘to them”; it is now our collective undoing
No one is bigger or grander than another
Capitalism made gone mad: Imperialism then globalization
Rampant inequality is now equally in the hand, the gun and the eyes
Of those who come to take back that which has been lost, taken, stolen, raped and hoarded
Their story is my testimony: The under belly
My success is somebody’s failure
The law of the universe is a mirror, one connected to the other
Here is my passage
What I observed
This is my story, my testimony
The price to pay for the journey
While I wait for rebirths
Being a warrior woman with bright eyes to see
I am the seer, healer the repairer of the breach
I make you out
Its costing me and my children
The beautiful ones not yet born
Just those reminding us of the life we living
It is my strength
That I am keeping for the journey.
I will need it when the time comes
When the hosts knock to exact their pay
The price for the journey
What is yours
Story, strength, money or testimony
Here is my passage
You have passage
The price to pay for a journey
12/02; 12/04/03 6:20pm
----------------------------
The gift of darkness to see the night
The evacuation of the haunted souls leaves silence
And barking animals in wake
Or are they bullfrogs?
The crickets sound the oppressive stillness
Yet the mosquitoes are loud near
It is the damp skin emitting scents calling, calling
‘Warm blood for the stinging’
What a sight if there were eyes
The fanning of heat in the early absent day
And if there must be noise then let it be Bob
The priest, prophet, and poet of the Marley’s; My birthsake
And his companion strummer, Peter Tosh talking ‘bout equal nights and starstice
Singing Playing songs obscure but to the loneliest worshiper of night without lights
7:10pm/10:00pm Tuesday, August 25, 2009
-------------------------
Human Instruments
I want to play Chess before I die
While my opponent sits before me, strumming his guitar
In between the grooves, the moves
Check Mate
I want to live in a house of instruments
A black gleaming Baby Grand Piano in the middle of a joining room
Stradivarius on a rack between light scones
And the guitar, ever cradled like a baby murmuring
Sweet lullaby tunes
I want a house with a huge Italian gate
That swings into the compound gardens
And yards or miles to meditate the walk
Before you reach the laughter at the door
The music inside
The love that glides
Strums and Sings
And gives birth to new musical wings
Undertakings
Underlings
That house, holding chess , gardens, music and other human instruments
4:30am/4:27pm Sunday 9 August 2009
-------------------------
Print and Press
The Sister from Another Planet
What do you call a female man rat?
It is confirmed. I am an Interloper here
I was brought here for healing
By the hands of Mother Marjorie and the guidance of God, gods, goddesses, hosts and angels
I have my family to thank
I have this land of my birth to give gratitude
I am not here to change it
I was just here to be taught by it.
To be anointed by the shade of the trees
Aura cleansed by the rambling moving water of the river.
Mother Sea was to bring me to the shores of my inner temptress, Femininity.
My cousin was to personalize the inner identity Yemoja
Ashe Ashe Ashe
I am not here to help others
To imbibe them by my years of learning, suffering, crying and begging against the wilderness
My knowledge is of no currency and import here, there is no conversion.
Everyone I have encountered was to build me up
Every engagement I experienced was to teach
Every canvas was to test, live and breathe the question of Who am I, Who am I to become and What is the best of me?
My vibration was not the common; my path was not the commoner, but yet with my accomplishments,
Humility
One major task was to put my brother to rest and to guide his spirit to the light
For that I was given the gift of the mountain Rainforest River of my garden backyard
The indomitable abided when no one else would accompany me
Another major task was to make peace and become one with my father
But as with all missions, the end and success are not the measure but the effort and wisdom thereto
As with all things, I am not one, others bring obstacles, challenges, their own lessons, fears and dynamics. It was to see it to its end, by my hand. I have left nothing of that incomplete, undone.
I bless and I move on. I trust the planets to make right at the end of my reach.
One gain was to find my purpose and calling; and I know now, one is to Just Be.
The other is to be, live and regain Earth and Bush; A forester told me
Another is to find oneness with all for which I am still toiling;
Impatience, intolerance and lives of knowing are the chasms to cross
But I know I am not just this life; I have crossed over many
And graduated to know that death is but another one
The extent to which I now have a hand in choosing
To be angel-guide or God-Goddess head
The greatest toil of all was and is my healing and integration
Its purpose was to find myself.
Self is not complete, but ego has dwindled
And in this life, I have crossed over Man
I still walk the path of many names
Of Water, Warrior, PeaceSearcher, Seeker, Maven, Magical Raven, Samurai, Daughter
And now, Goddess, Priestess, Master Teacher, Shaman/Healer
To be Wombmyn
I have elevated from the confusion
Come to a delicate pass and balance
Where I can look back and see what is over yonder
That much is clear.
Writer, Artist, Conscious Creative, Blesser and Bestower of Spirit, Learner
As they say in the Image,
And so I encompass the privilege
To write the tale and tell my story
I do not belong here. I am just an Interloper
Grant me safe passage
Through
3:53pm Tuesday, July 28, 2009
--------------------------
Bearing Witness to MJ, A Master Soul
Fashion a science fiction
Moonwalk your destination
Crying to the stunted man in the mirror
Plagued by female fans
The girl is mine though she Billy Jean Thriller
Tell me a discography and I will write you lives lived
On every continent, even in remote hamlets, in the millions
And even now, some are discovering new tunes
Defying descriptions for illiterate barbarians
See that God being remaking himself in the image of no other
Claiming ownership none dare\A human living an Evolution
Raising questions and re-theorizing identity
Imagine the immense loneliness of this one-no-other-calling
And to bear it with will
Etherizing boxes
Morphed labels
The difference to infinity
Eternally one uni-gender
Anti-ethnicity; this myth of races;\
A grand humanitarian
The blur of asexuality
Leaving him in perpetuity
Of a child like wonder and innocence
Recognize today, This, He, an Alter Human
A creature, alchemy, and element
Hu* beyond mere man
A clone of the previous transcending futures
The color line and multiple generations
If we assigned him scholars and institutes,
They would still falter to confine him to one allegory;
The abstract, esoteric, phenomenals are so many
In one life time, the many platforms broken by this gentle humble ingenie
True Genus and Specie unknown
Our next form and incarnation, in this life; maybe
It is now clear he hearkened from an entirely different dimension;
Another; Past or Future, Universe
To the masses, just Michael Jackson
A name for the scroll of known Intergalactic Masters
The epithet for the tombstone, “all mixed up, no answers” *
The Stranger in Moscow
* words of TRampersad
11am Saturday June 27, 2009 ©® mdhuggins 
Poem: This Place
This place is an amazing place
Where love, lust and destruction are one and the same
Perpetrators will first seek, hunt and search you out
To fuck, own, parade and control you
Should you not concede, participate or refuse,
They will malign, shun, both cavort and consort against you
None other than with friends, maybe family; no less
This place?
Is a place where patience is more than a virtue:
It is in fact your weapon and protection
Your eye beyond seeing and vision
To know the true character, intention and vibration
Of a thing, person or situation
As it exists, emerges, emotes and effects
What it elicits in the last analysis
Is a totality of its reality and tells a story
Are you?
To be or not to be
With it, him, her, them, there or here
And so, you are given a context
To live, act or survive by
In this place
This place: where douendom as one claimed master says
Becomes with full understanding,
A profound, complex, novel and classic interpretation
Of our form, function and fanaticism
To realize we are deformed, unborn, babes of competing direction:
Feet backward, face forward, extended bellies, shunted bodies
We are the living unviable
Amidst great plenty, both natural and imported ~ an original peoples
Amassed from everywhere
Here to emulate the least of our past enemies, political counterparts, convenient friends
In globalization, superseding imperialism
After and through continuing colonialism
In this place
Where defiant and natural hair with proud Africanness still spells your doom
And just as in slavery days:
The subversives to the system,
Those who live and move differently, Think
Are hung, beaten, marred, blocked, run away or destroyed
And so we arrive where we started
For both this poem and history: At destruction
Before, Now and Later
Regardless of which, it is the inevitable – ruin
Said too of this beautiful paradise of a place
Remember the lands, air, mountain, forests and skies?
What is seen of our seas, beaches, rivers, drains, grasslands and savannahs?
In what condition are the port cities and The Laventille?
Gone the way of La Brea, Icacos, Chatham, and promised Cap de Ville
We now have gone the way of development and rampant exploitation
Lunar landscapes and estates of deadly industrialization abound
To take over every thing alive in our sacred spaces
Spewing poison and debilitation to keep North America
Warm and SUV running
At the cost of our breath and humane living
In this place of paradise, beauty and love
Haven of every obliteration;
Both a cursed and blessed devastation
That is this place
© Written February 23, 2005
I am giving a peace offering today
For my deliverance tomorrow
I am giving a peace offering today
To staunch my hurt from its flow
I am giving a peace offering today
To stem constant misunderstandings
I am giving a peace offering today
To unlock the frustrations
I am giving a peace offering today
For blessings multiplied and restored
I am giving a peace offering today
For me to withstand and make it to a better one
I am giving a peace offering today
To be free from surround sound ugly and negativity
I am giving a peace offering today
To be apart from would-be users
I am giving a peace offering today
To change and correct toxic and poison
I am giving a peace offering today
In lieu of the drink or drugs that falsely seduce to imprison me
I am giving a peace offering today
Because I am tired of days like these
I am giving a peace offering today
To teach me how to live in compromise
I am giving a peace offering today
Because I have nothing more
I am giving a peace offering today
Knowing that it will never be enough
I give a peace offering today in sacrifice
I give a peace offering today at a high cost and price
I give a peace offering today according to whose balance sheet and values?
I gave a peace offering today
To help and save myself
I share this peace offering today
In the hopes that it balms and eases your hurts
I break this peace offering bread with you
For we shall eat and not gnash teeth tomorrow
I write of these peace offerings today
Offering tears as blood for life and your good living
By peace
And offerings, today
5:12pm June 24, 2009
I am learning lessons
About making peace where there is none
And the art of Serenity
Do not fight over another’s property;
No matter how much, there, your soul sings:
Make, build, find, create or move to own.
Not every action requires an answer or a reaction.
I am learning that every situation, conflict, problem and challenge
Almost all have one purpose: to show people to themselves;
To show who people really are;
And if you are awake/alert enough,
Directs you to who you want to be:
The pause before action,
Reaction and choice;
The halt before the bullet, the arrow or spoken word; none can be returned.
I am in the turbine of change: my thoughts, thinking, values, perspectives, requirements are in check
Anthony Robbins’ Awaken the Giant Within is my new bible, an alchemic furnace
I am in prayer for Grace to travel, weather, and souljourn this time to a happy ending
I am in a tunnel of blessing> the difficulty is the fire to spurn, to emerge the next level
10:49 am Saturday, June 13, 2009
I battled last, with night for sleep and rest
Merely to have survived
I traveled last night in a black and white polka dot dress with bright pink lace
That I just could not get right
I tried to water plants carefully and neatly placed on a rock step garden
Waiting for hose and water beings used by who I would say was once my mother
Offering no information, no salve, no soft word just eyes that were indifferent
I moved the hose to take to water, only to realize it is supposed to stay there
Returned to reconnect and could no longer spot the spout; rendering it useless and bear
I wonder of dreams and its power to tell, give guidance and reveal;
I wonder of those who interpret dreams and where or who they might be
I wonder of poor seekers lost and searching for what is not to find
I wonder of the charlatan healers I have met who sit and plot to game and bag new minds
I awoke in the middle of the night to try and give voice to an ephemeral mourning:
“I feel a perpetual hunger in my belly wondering if it is the Chinese medicine. I feel unmoored and searching for place, location, safety> there is none too little for the tempest of no time. I am ever alone in an unsupported world with no corner to call my own. Where is the salvation? Where is the deliverance? Where is the love?”
I went back to sleep and as dawn broke, Ruth Huggins, whose face I already have; her essence of spirit came to me. A woman who laughed as much as she cried, and often at the same time; a praying woman meek and humble, and full of nothing but love; I am to bee her. I am to take on that spirit. I am to pray as I eat if not breathe. Praying Humility Love is my future, maybe just my key.
In the same sleep, I begin the Jerusalem Our Father’s and Mothers Before Prayer, who art in heaven and other places unseen Hallowed be thy good name, Thy kingdoms come, Thy will be done, On earth as it is in other dimensions…Am I to rewrite the daily prayer?
I awoke and feel the heaviness of travel and battle, wash my face of the scenes and think, Pray and everything is just really, a battle against tears, to keep at bay the deluge and weight waiting to shed; tears that I no longer have patience for; Just action to free myself; not be sad and pity the journey of the lost, the seekers; of the last ones, warriors standing who have now to become peace makers among wranglers. I was asked last Sunday a new question: “What was my cause?” And my ready answer was Justice, Righteousness, Right against Wrong”; it always has been even as a child.
As I sit with bible, psalms, journal, computer and bills, I remember Moms a demon fighter spirit agent who gave me scriptures months ago, I remember her telling me when I first met her, “You have to pray” “You ready to pray?” And I haven’t; didn’t; not in the intense do-nothing-but –way she meant. I open my Amplified Bible. I read the first scripture she gave me: 4th Psalm, written in code for everything I have said or written the last few days.
“1. Answer me when I call, O God of my righteousness (uprightness, justice and right standing with You)! You have freed me when I was hemmed in (!* ) and enlarged me when I was in distress; have mercy upon me and hear my prayer. 2. O you sons of men, how long will you turn my honor and glory into shame? How long will you love vanity and futility and seek after lies? Selah [pause, and calmly think of that]! 3. But know that the Lord has set apart for Him (as surely Lady has set apart for Her) self [and given distinction to] him/her who is godly [the man or wombman of loving –kindness]. The Lord and Lady listens and heeds when I call to Him/Her. 4. Be angry [or stand in awe] and sin not; commune with your own hearts upon your beds and be silent (sorry for the things you say in your hearts). Selah [pause, and calmly think of that]! [Eph. 4:26] 5. Offer just and right sacrifices; trust (lean on and be confident) in the Lord/Lady. 6. Many say, Oh, that we might see some good! Lift up the light of Your countenance upon us O Lord/Lady. 7. You have put more joy and rejoicing in my heart than [they know] when their wheat and new wine have yielded abundantly. 8. In peace I will both lie down and sleep, for You, Lord/Lady, alone make me dwell in safety and confident trust.”
And once I become That Praying Wombman , then I shall channel my great cousin Papa Neezer, reading Carlos Castenada’s The Way of the Yacqui Indians into my next stage of change, Shaman, Wounded Healer. I battled last night not for rest but to yield a way out from my status of perpetual digression.
“Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession. (P2:8). And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! For then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, and remain in the wilderness (bush). Selah. P55:6-7)
9:52am Wednesday, June 10, 2009 
Things come to me during sleep, or in the shift between sleep and wake, or as I prepare to return, landing at that gate. I awaken this morning with…. Notes of a Learner Survivor
A scar malformed during healing is not important
What is important is that I survived surgery in Trinidad, alive, not maimed, well-adjusted, healed and corrected (for a time)
I lived in New York City for eleven years, unscathed, untouched, and inviolate; so I shall survive Trinidad
then, despite the beasts running free and wild, roughshod across life and liberties, natures, the greenery, sacred spaces and species, livelihoods and bodies.
Saving money, returning to that program, after buying a used vehicle, paying for my private surgery, and buying new furniture for a new living space when I owned none before---doing that all cash (living by Marjorie’s tenet “not where is the money, but here is the money”, is better than burning money in exorbitant rent for a house, making somebody else richer, supporting their lifestyle at the expense of yours. Decisions and choices are weighty and difficult, but the value to be earned in courage moving from fear is gratifying
Expanding your heart, mind, consciousness, awareness and sense of sharing is what happens when you give up a space that you held for yourself, in protection, hoarding, no matter how you talked about your inner peace and serenity makes for stretching and growing; a lightness of being also
Life is good however it comes; without the struggle, the fight or the resistance, staying centered in the flow is to hold no presumptions, take no assumptions, release all expectations with palms open ---giving, receiving, sharing, engaging, believing, and not counting, with no complaints
Even when your friends do you wrong, have nothing to say, walk away to another potential day…it may be that friend, in some motivation reappears offering a breakthrough, opportunity or solution.
Time tells, if you allow; if you have not sullied, if you have not altered the channels or corrupted the energy fields that are to be honored.
Be smarter than the dummies surrounding you. Do not take their taunts and petty challenges, play their game, on their turf, on their court of thinking, within their mindset, in front of their minions; not every bal l thrown to your net is yours in the first instance, or one to volley in the latter. Smile, glide and stay focusssed.
Elspeth reminds me to say, know how to be and become free
These are notes on surviving to this day,
Thursday, June 04, 2009 
Poem: This Place
This place is an amazing place
Where love, lust and destruction are one and the same
Perpetrators will first seek, hunt and search you out
To fuck, own, parade and control you
Should you not concede, participate or refuse,
They will malign, shun, both cavort and consort against you
None other than with friends, maybe family; no less
This place?
Is a place where patience is more than a virtue:
It is in fact your weapon and protection
Your eye beyond seeing and vision
To know the true character, intention and vibration
Of a thing, person or situation
As it exists, emerges, emotes and effects
What it elicits in the last analysis
Is a totality of its reality and tells a story
Are you?
To be or not to be
With it, him, her, them, there or here
And so, you are given a context
To live, act or survive by
In this place
This place: where douendom as one claimed master says
Becomes with full understanding,
A profound, complex, novel and classic interpretation
Of our form, function and fanaticism
To realize we are deformed, unborn, babes of competing direction:
Feet backward, face forward, extended bellies, shunted bodies
We are the living unviable
Amidst great plenty, both natural and imported ~ an original peoples
Amassed from everywhere
Here to emulate the least of our past enemies, political counterparts, convenient friends
In globalization, superseding imperialism
After and through continuing colonialism
In this place
Where defiant and natural hair with proud Africanness still spells your doom
And just as in slavery days:
The subversives to the system,
Those who live and move differently, Think
Are hung, beaten, marred, blocked, run away or destroyed
And so we arrive where we started
For both this poem and history: At destruction
Before, Now and Later
Regardless of which, it is the inevitable – ruin
Said too of this beautiful paradise of a place
Remember the lands, air, mountain, forests and skies?
What is seen of our seas, beaches, rivers, drains, grasslands and savannahs?
In what condition are the port cities and The Laventille?
Gone the way of La Brea, Icacos, Chatham, and promised Cap de Ville
We now have gone the way of development and rampant exploitation
Lunar landscapes and estates of deadly industrialization abound
To take over every thing alive in our sacred spaces
Spewing poison and debilitation to keep North America
Warm and SUV running
At the cost of our breath and humane living
In this place of paradise, beauty and love
Haven of every obliteration;
Both a cursed and blessed devastation
That is this place
© Written February 23, 2005
Peace Offerings Today
I am giving a peace offering today
For my deliverance tomorrow
I am giving a peace offering today
To staunch my hurt from its flow
I am giving a peace offering today
To stem constant misunderstandings
I am giving a peace offering today
To unlock the frustrations
I am giving a peace offering today
For blessings multiplied and restored
I am giving a peace offering today
For me to withstand and make it to a better one
I am giving a peace offering today
To be free from surround sound ugly and negativity
I am giving a peace offering today
To be apart from would-be users
I am giving a peace offering today
To change and correct toxic and poison
I am giving a peace offering today
In lieu of the drink or drugs that falsely seduce to imprison me
I am giving a peace offering today
Because I am tired of days like these
I am giving a peace offering today
To teach me how to live in compromise
I am giving a peace offering today
Because I have nothing more
I am giving a peace offering today
Knowing that it will never be enough
I give a peace offering today in sacrifice
I give a peace offering today at a high cost and price
I give a peace offering today according to whose balance sheet and values?
I gave a peace offering today
To help and save myself
I share this peace offering today
In the hopes that it balms and eases your hurts
I break this peace offering bread with you
For we shall eat and not gnash teeth tomorrow
I write of these peace offerings today
Offering tears as blood for life and your good living
By peace
And offerings, today
5:12pm June 24, 2009
I AM
Woman made Wombyn
I AM
As Water to the Womb, so too I seek my Level
I AM
Water Wombmyn carrying life and sustenance
All things living
I AM
Peculiar, the Ocean, just like she
Laps, tickles and reaches to your feet, lovingly at the Shore
Constantly moving energy,
Never static
Waves, Eaves
So too is she deep, threatening, unknown in the Seas
Home to beings swimming, existing, unknown and lurking there
And when she rages in storms
Gathering wind like sand to throw against your demands
I AM
Yemanja
All things, as One
No separation, No difference
Truth and Salt to Heal and Hurt your Wounds
I AM
That
All That
Woman
Made by Womb
Reclaiming all
Pieces of power
To Be
Wombmyn,
And then, with, all you need to live,
Truth, Water, Salt, Sand and Sea
6:14pm Thursday, November 17, 2009
an original painting of mine.
----------------------------
The Called...
I need to found a group called
The Radical and Critical
Thinkers and Activists, Organizers and Mobilizers
Teachers and Servant-Leaders (The RCTAOMTSL)
A Spiritually based collective
Holding ideals and standards
On values, perspectives, policies and laws
Affecting my daily life, and yours,
Our neighbors’ across the way
Our company across the sea
Brothers’ in other nations
Sisters’ around the globe
And Children, our children,
The ones we never birthed,
Everywhere, here and away
A group all about consciousness and enlightenment
Lifting up their being, their lives and livelihood,
And those of the masses
For you see, too much insanity is circulating these post 9-11 days
Flood gates of money nowhere available before, flooding and flowing
To the rich, both dead and alive, all in enterprise
While the cogs go unemployed,
There concerns unheralded
Casually exposed and unprotected
Institutional support from taxpayer’s dollars
While the taxpayers themselves are locked out
Big business and institutional debt forgiven, dead weight forgiveness, and corporate bailouts
While the laws refuse to accept my inability, my excuses.
We pay debt that strangles, while stakeholders get their company profits and
Government billions, still while employees retired or pink-slipped,
No checks, no gold watch
Madness abounds while the silence deafens me.
Is no one else observant of the cycles gone wild?
The loneliness of my vision and sight
Creates a resurgence of righteous anger
Spewed of the oppressed, the persecuted, the excluded, the poor
Where is the redress?
Awareness of unrighteousness erodes individual integrity,
Creating mass anarchy, which has never been anything other than the
Republic of Rich, Class, and Designated Democracy
On this side of all the West,
On this sphere of the Universe,
Taking over all our worlds:
The old has gone away
Cultural histories passed away
Nothing noble, nothing traditional, nothing cultural, nothing sacred
Just Money
Just Globalization,
Just Not Us
Just Not Me
Is anybody else angry?
I call on the Radical, The Critical
TO Amass
A Call to Order a Call to Create Justice
melise d huggins, 11/9/01 9:15am
The Called...Radical and Critical
by Maven Huggins on Monday, November 16, 2009 at 7:23pm
I need to found a group called
The Radical and Critical
Thinkers and Activists, Organizers and Mobilizers
Teachers and Servant-Leaders (The RCTAOMTSL)
A Spiritually based collective
Holding ideals and standards
On values, perspectives, policies and laws
Affecting my daily life, and yours,
Our neighbors’ across the way
Our company across the sea
Brothers’ in other nations
Sisters’ around the globe
And Children, our children,
The ones we never birthed,
Everywhere, here and away
A group all about consciousness and enlightenment
Lifting up their being, their lives and livelihood,
And those of the masses
For you see, too much insanity is circulating these post 9-11 days
Flood gates of money nowhere available before, flooding and flowing
To the rich, both dead and alive, all in enterprise
While the cogs go unemployed,
There concerns unheralded
Casually exposed and unprotected
Institutional support from taxpayer’s dollars
While the taxpayers themselves are locked out
Big business and institutional debt forgiven, dead weight forgiveness, and corporate bailouts
While the laws refuse to accept my inability, my excuses.
We pay debt that strangles, while stakeholders get their company profits and
Government billions, still while employees retired or pink-slipped,
No checks, no gold watch
Madness abounds while the silence deafens me.
Is no one else observant of the cycles gone wild?
The loneliness of my vision and sight
Creates a resurgence of righteous anger
Spewed of the oppressed, the persecuted, the excluded, the poor
Where is the redress?
Awareness of unrighteousness erodes individual integrity,
Creating mass anarchy, which has never been anything other than the
Republic of Rich, Class, and Designated Democracy
On this side of all the West,
On this sphere of the Universe,
Taking over all our worlds:
The old has gone away
Cultural histories passed away
Nothing noble, nothing traditional, nothing cultural, nothing sacred
Just Money
Just Globalization,
Just Not Us
Just Not Me
Is anybody else angry?
I call on the Radical, The Critical
TO Amass
A Call to Order a Call to Create Justice
melise d huggins, 11/9/01 9:15am
-----------------------------
Yea Samurai Warrior Wombyn
by Maven Huggins on Friday, October 23, 2009 at 7:48pm
Yea, the Samurai Warrior Queen
Samurai
To be in service
Warrior
And to the sword
Honorable in every battle
Smiling and greeting even in the kill
Knowing to understand the enemy
All the while, belying emotion and eschewing tepid sentimentality
Deep
This place and the process make you silent, wise and shrewd
To be victorious with an old ship and values
Samurai
The old principles of combat garnered to new conflicts
Transplanted through cultural shock and dynamics
Riding high and hard on traditional laws
Not certain defeat because of the passage of time
Against bullets, assorted weapons and arsenals,
Not any kind for an assurety of the mind
Here, just as being abroad
It is a war
To maintain character, treasure and mane
Being of an old universe, world, space and time
It is to be
And execute all things in perfection
An ownership until the end
Being a destiny completed in conclusion
So in parting for the continued journey
For this unexpected juncture,
May the strength of the Samurai * The Sword * And The Ancestors
Be with you
Always
To do and not forget:
Who you are
Where you come from
What you have been through
And what brought you
Yea! The Samurai Warrior Queen still persists
11:30pm 12.07.04
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/23/arts/design/23samurai.html?_r=1
Samurai
To be in service
Warrior
And to the sword
Honorable in every battle
Smiling and greeting even in the kill
Knowing to understand the enemy
All the while, belying emotion and eschewing tepid sentimentality
Deep
This place and the process make you silent, wise and shrewd
To be victorious with an old ship and values
Samurai
The old principles of combat garnered to new conflicts
Transplanted through cultural shock and dynamics
Riding high and hard on traditional laws
Not certain defeat because of the passage of time
Against bullets, assorted weapons and arsenals,
Not any kind for an assurety of the mind
Here, just as being abroad
It is a war
To maintain character, treasure and mane
Being of an old universe, world, space and time
It is to be
And execute all things in perfection
An ownership until the end
Being a destiny completed in conclusion
So in parting for the continued journey
For this unexpected juncture,
May the strength of the Samurai * The Sword * And The Ancestors
Be with you
Always
To do and not forget:
Who you are
Where you come from
What you have been through
And what brought you
Yea! The Samurai Warrior Queen still persists
11:30pm 12.07.04
Wise Warriors, Artfully Attired
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/23/arts/design/23samurai.html?_r=1
-----------------------------
Can You?
by Maven Huggins on Thursday, October 22, 2009 at 1:22pm
Can sunshine show in running water?
Sun now exists in the sky without any filter
Just pure brightness, glare, UV and burn
The ozone shield destroyed in the race to obsession
For stuff and money brought by the rape, consumption and production
Of the barbaric heart of Neanderthal socio-psycho pathology of western being predominating
We now live in fire, as if under the flame of a grille
Can you return into a dream to pick up what you left behind?
Waking up without It: your happiness, your right mind
The face of your companion; A message, A direction
To replay a forgotten sequence of a story; an explanation to a mystery
Can you go back to sleep in the morning, to capture rest?
Believing you know what is important
Living your personal terms, proclivities, timing and wellbeing
Can you explain your blessings: the mysterious gifts and provisions?
Can you any more test your anointing?
Forget what appears to be missing, focus on an existence of silence, peace and will
Can you slumber in between the morning?
Having fought with a mosquito from 2am until who knows when?
And then dream another bizarre dream
The yard flooding, but no rain
A family of Great Danes and their puppies fighting with some creature on the ground while
A puffin hovers over head, at your eye level surveying all
And when you step on the landing to photo down below, said puffin beak pinches your left side.
Then more water shows up and you realize you are not leaving, going back inside.
And the vehicle is gone and that there is a giant hole in the ground from which emerges
Water like a gush, birthing, as if, all manner of animals, mammals, water creatures and pets
Then hear some fishy story from an unknown neighbor sitting on a nonexistent patio at the north
Living room window…telling you of another neighbor driving your vehicle during the night
Parked up on the road, saving it ostensibly from the flood rising, erasing the yard,
And nonsense confusion takes over your mind before you realize standing in your living room
Some humble good spirit of a gorgeous man, dressed as if we are us on our way out for dinner or tea. The message is “here is the one you have been looking for to culture, dine, cocktail, dance and chess”. He happens to be light-skinned or was that all his emanating light?, with thick short-cut curly hair, under a summer straw clipped brim fedora, with a mustache and the calm of a Buddha. And instantly, I knew that he was what I went back for. Am I sleeping, awake or ovulating?
12:52pm Thursday, October 22, 2009 [12:52 10/22/09]
Sun now exists in the sky without any filter
Just pure brightness, glare, UV and burn
The ozone shield destroyed in the race to obsession
For stuff and money brought by the rape, consumption and production
Of the barbaric heart of Neanderthal socio-psycho pathology of western being predominating
We now live in fire, as if under the flame of a grille
Can you return into a dream to pick up what you left behind?
Waking up without It: your happiness, your right mind
The face of your companion; A message, A direction
To replay a forgotten sequence of a story; an explanation to a mystery
Can you go back to sleep in the morning, to capture rest?
Believing you know what is important
Living your personal terms, proclivities, timing and wellbeing
Can you explain your blessings: the mysterious gifts and provisions?
Can you any more test your anointing?
Forget what appears to be missing, focus on an existence of silence, peace and will
Can you slumber in between the morning?
Having fought with a mosquito from 2am until who knows when?
And then dream another bizarre dream
The yard flooding, but no rain
A family of Great Danes and their puppies fighting with some creature on the ground while
A puffin hovers over head, at your eye level surveying all
And when you step on the landing to photo down below, said puffin beak pinches your left side.
Then more water shows up and you realize you are not leaving, going back inside.
And the vehicle is gone and that there is a giant hole in the ground from which emerges
Water like a gush, birthing, as if, all manner of animals, mammals, water creatures and pets
Then hear some fishy story from an unknown neighbor sitting on a nonexistent patio at the north
Living room window…telling you of another neighbor driving your vehicle during the night
Parked up on the road, saving it ostensibly from the flood rising, erasing the yard,
And nonsense confusion takes over your mind before you realize standing in your living room
Some humble good spirit of a gorgeous man, dressed as if we are us on our way out for dinner or tea. The message is “here is the one you have been looking for to culture, dine, cocktail, dance and chess”. He happens to be light-skinned or was that all his emanating light?, with thick short-cut curly hair, under a summer straw clipped brim fedora, with a mustache and the calm of a Buddha. And instantly, I knew that he was what I went back for. Am I sleeping, awake or ovulating?
12:52pm Thursday, October 22, 2009 [12:52 10/22/09]
---------------------
Open Night Tropique
by Maven Huggins on Wednesday, October 14, 2009 at 9:22am
The night last was so beautifully tropique
I did not close my windows and shutters
It was rewarding for the hours remained delicious
The morning, overcast, still blue and cool
But had I awakened any later, emerging to my great room with any delay further
Green tanagers would have a nest in the light bowl of my ceiling fan
Not even the one they have always scoured, but the other one in the living room
Amidst velvet jacquard fabrics and above silk rugs
Those birds have no respect of people, place or space
Pooping on my Reiki book as they surveyed real estate
Last Night
Nights like this are what tourists crave
Those the locals may not shut out, aver closing up at dusk, till later, bedtime, to never
Clear starry nights led by bright Eastern star planets
Balmy breezy climates
Rustling trees and flapping balisier leaves
Various crickets, frogs and forest insects, intersect, in cadence and song
Bats darting as blind shadows intermittently, lead
The allure, to be up, to be out, breathing the tepid temperature. Aire
Being enveloped by nights as full to enjoy as day
Yesterday
Even yesterday’s: closing with a certain Je ne se quois
A parting sense, a vague feeling
A shift, a completion, a new season
Perhaps
Something that yet has to name itself; to explore and fit
I did not hold to capture it when the thought first occurred
In Between Time
And truly as I reflect, owing to the night’s atmosphere, how I slept
I awaken feeling new or renewed
Stretching and limbering the body I am to make a practice
Awakening with yesterday’s Chinese Snake horoscope:
Happy, Blossomed and Serene
9:18am Wednesday, October 14, 2009
------------------------
Night Silent Friend
by Maven Huggins on Tuesday, October 13, 2009 at 4:38am
To sit, absorb, expand and be in awe
The cool embrace vastness
The moon-less sky teaches the stars in constellation
One wonders if it is possible to reach and stretch far enough
To a distant everlasting self
Abiding with each time never changing
As the stars, the night
Calling for a relax reclining
At the incline under the Chinese bamboo
In the shade of the shadows of the croton hedges
To stare in study
Capture a memory\etched in hard to see twinkles
You see when you don’t look
The big dipper is directly overhead
Nights like these when sleep is rend
Dreamers wander out to freshen their heads
Writers pick up pen to tell
Imaginary folk fly travelling to distant lands
While hunger imposes
When the muse names zaboca the fruit of foods
Food of all foods
To be eaten for breakfast, lunch, dinner
Middle of the night when you should be sleeping
Compensated blessings
Has you wondering what will you eat when it is out of season macrobiotic?
Nights like these tear your heart full of pieces
The perfect prefect standing guard for beauty of night cool stars
Wishing for a reclining chair to take it all in
To sit and sketch, pen on pad, to draw the lines, grid and alignment
Pondering what color to draw the sky and scheming layout, patterns and process
Nights like these deserve their posterity
For and by us mere stupid humans
Defying comprehension it is we mortals who need confirmation
We were here
The stars, they never leave nor move
The friend that stays, from your beginning for too your end
And remains after to tell
Of who can hear/Of who was here and what time they deported.
In honor of my new found friend and soul mate, Kenko, 1300s
4:29am Tuesday October 13, 2009
----------------------
The Journey Price, After Passage
by Maven Huggins on Sunday, September 20, 2009 at 12:53pm
It is not easy
I can tell you straight of pain and agony
But oh the victory
To live the strength from crossing over fragility
The price to pay for the journey
It is only for the brave
For there is no company
Only crabs and egos to bring down Jericho
And those who will see it to the end
Making the rounds, walking the talk
Bringing down walls and creating ones own breakwaters
Not giving up to darkness
The price to pay for the journey
Are you ready?
Are you willing?
Can you take this bidding?
Answer the call of the maker, the ancestors
To be more than the futility of man, to overcome the many ways women falter
Giving up our priceless jewels and unknown power
It is to withstand the temptation and hold your own hand
The price to pay for the journey
Knowing the rejection of being proud
Having a voice to speak aloud
Knowing your self and your beginnings
Divining ones own path, choice and makings
Such ownership (of self) leaves you without allegiance or alliances
It is a daily, moment-by-moment struggle
Between the malaise of oppression and pseudo-freedom
Whether it is my own or another’s imposition of ‘shoulda’
It is the price to pay for the journey
Doing without and still living full
Choosing neither the greater or lesser of evils
Turning back against blows to the feminine eagle
In the process of becoming sage, wise and free
Living not in illusions and lies for deception
But in a liberating reality
To make a different way
Teach others you are whom you say
Show the children alternative proverbs
Strength to be fully-grown and evolved angels
Not mere boy-men and baby-women
It is the reciprocity, the giving back of victory
To those who seek the path
Making their own way, claiming their own price
To pay for the journey
12/02/03 10:46pm; 12/04/03 6:05pm
---------------------------
The Price to Pay for the Journey 2 (TWO)
Here is my passage - you have passage
This is my story, my testimony
Of paths I have tread, the walk I laid down
The ways still to seek that I dread
But in all my nakedness is the strength
Where is yours
Story, strength (and) or testimony
You know
The price to pay for your journey
Mine has been filled with perceptions and illusions
Of being alone, difficult and too intoned
These the things that are said
Of persons, women, in particular, who keep their head
The indictments made to cut you down
When your aim too high, your reach beyond your crown
Your focus is not small, nor easy; far
You are peace and justice, not war
Not within and with self anyway
But with oppressors and their accomplices
Any man, woman or thing that standing in your way
This has been the price for my journey
The price to pay for the journey
Where is yours; story, strength and testimony?
Of unmatched mates
The choice not to take single motherhood
Laid barren when in a sea of unguided children
Empress say a missing generation
Where is your struggle to make a life beautiful
From the ghetto blight
To monied depravity
Reaping and sowing death, no longer just ‘to them”; it is now our collective undoing
No one is bigger or grander than another
Capitalism made gone mad: Imperialism then globalization
Rampant inequality is now equally in the hand, the gun and the eyes
Of those who come to take back that which has been lost, taken, stolen, raped and hoarded
Their story is my testimony: The under belly
My success is somebody’s failure
The law of the universe is a mirror, one connected to the other
Here is my passage
What I observed
This is my story, my testimony
The price to pay for the journey
While I wait for rebirths
Being a warrior woman with bright eyes to see
I am the seer, healer the repairer of the breach
I make you out
Its costing me and my children
The beautiful ones not yet born
Just those reminding us of the life we living
It is my strength
That I am keeping for the journey.
I will need it when the time comes
When the hosts knock to exact their pay
The price for the journey
What is yours
Story, strength, money or testimony
Here is my passage
You have passage
The price to pay for a journey
12/02; 12/04/03 6:20pm
-------------------------
911
Dial emergency code
A day of horror and surprise
Common to the rest of the developing world’s lands and people
Your borders are not impregnable
Your territories are just as accessible and subject to onslaught
The same you practice
911, the dial emergency code
How brilliant a stroke one has to admit to think of the orchestrated event on that date
One year later, same old American script
Attachment, vanity and jingoistic crisis
The American way: to enshrine, celebrate and expand every possible aspect of the dominant’s narcisstic experience. How quickly it took an event to become a holiday. Soon there will be curios and marketing to match the rest of the shtick. Never mind other’s holocaust.
There is no holiday to celebrate the decimation of the Indians
And reparations for descendants of African slaves is described as preposterous
Nevertheless, the innocent of 9-11 must be displayed
As if we had a chance throughout the year to ever get past it.
Duplicitously though, we murder children every day in these United American States:
Neglect, malnutrition, no health care, hunger, abuse – just invisible
We negate and marginalize women by rape, inequality
And make single mothers of color, dastardly
But all of a sudden, since 9-11, we want to provide educational funds for the 9-11 orphans
And lifetime incomes to rich widows
Surely it will be said, these women are not on the dole
All for women and families of resource, wealth and access
Same old stories: the rich get and get more at the expense of the lesser,
the sleeping and the shut down
Lesser people die
Lesser countries terrorized
Lesser goals, as described, subside
Everyday, in every way.
911
Dial emergency code
Who will save us from our cyclical scripts and conscripts?
The madness, fallacies and failings are beyond what we can or choose to register
Too much to bear
How sick is the collective we
A national frame and identity
That we would want to commemorate the growth, expansion and feedback of a
Nation’s historical mistakes, boomerang violence and cultural tragedy?
911
An ongoing observation
I love the way American people and politic always want to
“Set others free”; “bring freedom to other countries”
Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, for instance,
But never quite able to conceive or begin its own such process, to recognize its own need to find freedom from prejudice and racism, wealth, gender and sexual bias, lack of social conscience, moral directive or for a common and humble assessment of its place in a world beyond Western.
911
A continuing observation:
Saddam Hussein and the drummed up “war against Iraq and its so-called dictator”
Is the scapegoat for the Osama bin Laden escape
Exclaim what horror against the conspiracy mill
Lest we all start to think about it
911
Dial emergency code
The recording will say: Wrong number
~ mdhuggins, truthpoet spirit-wordsmith
7:30am 9.8.02
Published: Lansing City Pulse, Volume 2, Issue 4, September 11, 2002
911 Reprise
That day of glory for the oppressed
Of high costs for “the innocent”
Planes as ammunition and missiles
And the choice to burn in fire, leap in desperation
Or perhaps, one last hurrah for self determination
Swoops out the 21st, the 60th or 70th floors and deck windows
The sights and sounds of The Twin Towers,
Financial Powerhouse Coming down
World Capitalism Central exploded
The attempt at the military complex went up in a field in smoke
Beyond belief of all adherents
But no surprises to those who know: Chickens Do Return to Roost
September 11, 2001
Those who chose to make their living on the backs of those
Whose faces are wrapped from the sand of faraway places;
Sight unseen and different darker from me so no responsibility is the delusion
With no water, no sunshine, no peace and no clothes
Their costs become your payment, blood, life, lives and stones
One day someday Mamasay
Them was preliminaries
Now in 2009 Part Deux, the Reprise
This time round, it is the common folk, here not anywhere there, paying the price
Who bought into the lies, schemes and systems of living?
Retirement storing and life saving
Believing that the redound bounty of the finance criminals,
World and country rapists, European domination colonial systems
And Globalization as its last interpretation of slavery and indentureship
Would sustain them, their meager hopes for grand living
No sooner is there world buy-in does the crisis come
A World Financial Comedown/Bubble bursting/No crowns
Oh how the mighty have fallen
Let us name them for the criminal parade frog walk
They bridge lands and continents and what is interesting
Most of them so far are from the Americas western domination writing
Oh behold the holy trio: Duprey, Stanford, Madoff
One still living and benefitting wellbeing
Imagine the hundreds of nameless heads and captains
Of industry, institutions, and regulators coerced paid-off and sleeping
No government monitoring for that is the campaign finance booty
The government of Capital, driving capitalism higher and commanding ever higher heights
And it is the bottoms of the pyramid that pays
Liiving on the backs of the poor
Stealing working/struggling/striving people’s money to jet set and fly
ApaYap!
Who would believe all about us is nothing but lies and fake screens
And still there are those roaming free,
Who should be shackled, beaten down and made to strip in repayment
All their mansion homes, cars, and estate jewelry; money stored, laundered and distributed
Before government –the new great white hope - bails them out
With taxpayer money; Democracy is the sham that capitalism rides
And Pharmaceuticals, Drugs, Disease, Religion, Cocaine and Opium are the opiates used
And what of the drug, gun and human trafficking trade? To what purpose and aim?
To Master our collective destiny; the destruction of the world by its pillage
This is surely the reprise
The falling down is coming down in drops and pieces
The inevitable failure of capitalism is being thwarted and supported
Is the world being repopulated by the mass of murders?
So the recompense will be even bigger next time; fire was the first time
What next: Water; Pandemic man-made swine-human-avian flus?
Or doctors injecting against hepatitis B with HIV shots in the banana republic?
2001 to 2009: Part three will come when and to whom; how many of us that time?
8:54am Tuesday, April 28, 2009
9-11 and 911 Reprise
by Maven Huggins on Friday, September 11, 2009 at 7:52am
Dial emergency code
A day of horror and surprise
Common to the rest of the developing world’s lands and people
Your borders are not impregnable
Your territories are just as accessible and subject to onslaught
The same you practice
911, the dial emergency code
How brilliant a stroke one has to admit to think of the orchestrated event on that date
One year later, same old American script
Attachment, vanity and jingoistic crisis
The American way: to enshrine, celebrate and expand every possible aspect of the dominant’s narcisstic experience. How quickly it took an event to become a holiday. Soon there will be curios and marketing to match the rest of the shtick. Never mind other’s holocaust.
There is no holiday to celebrate the decimation of the Indians
And reparations for descendants of African slaves is described as preposterous
Nevertheless, the innocent of 9-11 must be displayed
As if we had a chance throughout the year to ever get past it.
Duplicitously though, we murder children every day in these United American States:
Neglect, malnutrition, no health care, hunger, abuse – just invisible
We negate and marginalize women by rape, inequality
And make single mothers of color, dastardly
But all of a sudden, since 9-11, we want to provide educational funds for the 9-11 orphans
And lifetime incomes to rich widows
Surely it will be said, these women are not on the dole
All for women and families of resource, wealth and access
Same old stories: the rich get and get more at the expense of the lesser,
the sleeping and the shut down
Lesser people die
Lesser countries terrorized
Lesser goals, as described, subside
Everyday, in every way.
911
Dial emergency code
Who will save us from our cyclical scripts and conscripts?
The madness, fallacies and failings are beyond what we can or choose to register
Too much to bear
How sick is the collective we
A national frame and identity
That we would want to commemorate the growth, expansion and feedback of a
Nation’s historical mistakes, boomerang violence and cultural tragedy?
911
An ongoing observation
I love the way American people and politic always want to
“Set others free”; “bring freedom to other countries”
Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, for instance,
But never quite able to conceive or begin its own such process, to recognize its own need to find freedom from prejudice and racism, wealth, gender and sexual bias, lack of social conscience, moral directive or for a common and humble assessment of its place in a world beyond Western.
911
A continuing observation:
Saddam Hussein and the drummed up “war against Iraq and its so-called dictator”
Is the scapegoat for the Osama bin Laden escape
Exclaim what horror against the conspiracy mill
Lest we all start to think about it
911
Dial emergency code
The recording will say: Wrong number
~ mdhuggins, truthpoet spirit-wordsmith
7:30am 9.8.02
Published: Lansing City Pulse, Volume 2, Issue 4, September 11, 2002
911 Reprise
That day of glory for the oppressed
Of high costs for “the innocent”
Planes as ammunition and missiles
And the choice to burn in fire, leap in desperation
Or perhaps, one last hurrah for self determination
Swoops out the 21st, the 60th or 70th floors and deck windows
The sights and sounds of The Twin Towers,
Financial Powerhouse Coming down
World Capitalism Central exploded
The attempt at the military complex went up in a field in smoke
Beyond belief of all adherents
But no surprises to those who know: Chickens Do Return to Roost
September 11, 2001
Those who chose to make their living on the backs of those
Whose faces are wrapped from the sand of faraway places;
Sight unseen and different darker from me so no responsibility is the delusion
With no water, no sunshine, no peace and no clothes
Their costs become your payment, blood, life, lives and stones
One day someday Mamasay
Them was preliminaries
Now in 2009 Part Deux, the Reprise
This time round, it is the common folk, here not anywhere there, paying the price
Who bought into the lies, schemes and systems of living?
Retirement storing and life saving
Believing that the redound bounty of the finance criminals,
World and country rapists, European domination colonial systems
And Globalization as its last interpretation of slavery and indentureship
Would sustain them, their meager hopes for grand living
No sooner is there world buy-in does the crisis come
A World Financial Comedown/Bubble bursting/No crowns
Oh how the mighty have fallen
Let us name them for the criminal parade frog walk
They bridge lands and continents and what is interesting
Most of them so far are from the Americas western domination writing
Oh behold the holy trio: Duprey, Stanford, Madoff
One still living and benefitting wellbeing
Imagine the hundreds of nameless heads and captains
Of industry, institutions, and regulators coerced paid-off and sleeping
No government monitoring for that is the campaign finance booty
The government of Capital, driving capitalism higher and commanding ever higher heights
And it is the bottoms of the pyramid that pays
Liiving on the backs of the poor
Stealing working/struggling/striving people’s money to jet set and fly
ApaYap!
Who would believe all about us is nothing but lies and fake screens
And still there are those roaming free,
Who should be shackled, beaten down and made to strip in repayment
All their mansion homes, cars, and estate jewelry; money stored, laundered and distributed
Before government –the new great white hope - bails them out
With taxpayer money; Democracy is the sham that capitalism rides
And Pharmaceuticals, Drugs, Disease, Religion, Cocaine and Opium are the opiates used
And what of the drug, gun and human trafficking trade? To what purpose and aim?
To Master our collective destiny; the destruction of the world by its pillage
This is surely the reprise
The falling down is coming down in drops and pieces
The inevitable failure of capitalism is being thwarted and supported
Is the world being repopulated by the mass of murders?
So the recompense will be even bigger next time; fire was the first time
What next: Water; Pandemic man-made swine-human-avian flus?
Or doctors injecting against hepatitis B with HIV shots in the banana republic?
2001 to 2009: Part three will come when and to whom; how many of us that time?
8:54am Tuesday, April 28, 2009
----------------------------
Nuits Sans Lumières
by Maven Huggins on Tuesday, August 25, 2009 at 11:16pm
The gift of darkness to see the night
The evacuation of the haunted souls leaves silence
And barking animals in wake
Or are they bullfrogs?
The crickets sound the oppressive stillness
Yet the mosquitoes are loud near
It is the damp skin emitting scents calling, calling
‘Warm blood for the stinging’
What a sight if there were eyes
The fanning of heat in the early absent day
And if there must be noise then let it be Bob
The priest, prophet, and poet of the Marley’s; My birthsake
And his companion strummer, Peter Tosh talking ‘bout equal nights and starstice
Singing Playing songs obscure but to the loneliest worshiper of night without lights
7:10pm/10:00pm Tuesday, August 25, 2009
-------------------------
Human Instruments
by Maven Huggins on Sunday, August 9, 2009 at 4:31pm
I want to play Chess before I die
While my opponent sits before me, strumming his guitar
In between the grooves, the moves
Check Mate
I want to live in a house of instruments
A black gleaming Baby Grand Piano in the middle of a joining room
Stradivarius on a rack between light scones
And the guitar, ever cradled like a baby murmuring
Sweet lullaby tunes
I want a house with a huge Italian gate
That swings into the compound gardens
And yards or miles to meditate the walk
Before you reach the laughter at the door
The music inside
The love that glides
Strums and Sings
And gives birth to new musical wings
Undertakings
Underlings
That house, holding chess , gardens, music and other human instruments
4:30am/4:27pm Sunday 9 August 2009
-------------------------
Print and Press
by Maven Huggins on Tuesday, July 28, 2009 at 4:18pm
The Sister from Another Planet
What do you call a female man rat?
It is confirmed. I am an Interloper here
I was brought here for healing
By the hands of Mother Marjorie and the guidance of God, gods, goddesses, hosts and angels
I have my family to thank
I have this land of my birth to give gratitude
I am not here to change it
I was just here to be taught by it.
To be anointed by the shade of the trees
Aura cleansed by the rambling moving water of the river.
Mother Sea was to bring me to the shores of my inner temptress, Femininity.
My cousin was to personalize the inner identity Yemoja
Ashe Ashe Ashe
I am not here to help others
To imbibe them by my years of learning, suffering, crying and begging against the wilderness
My knowledge is of no currency and import here, there is no conversion.
Everyone I have encountered was to build me up
Every engagement I experienced was to teach
Every canvas was to test, live and breathe the question of Who am I, Who am I to become and What is the best of me?
My vibration was not the common; my path was not the commoner, but yet with my accomplishments,
Humility
One major task was to put my brother to rest and to guide his spirit to the light
For that I was given the gift of the mountain Rainforest River of my garden backyard
The indomitable abided when no one else would accompany me
Another major task was to make peace and become one with my father
But as with all missions, the end and success are not the measure but the effort and wisdom thereto
As with all things, I am not one, others bring obstacles, challenges, their own lessons, fears and dynamics. It was to see it to its end, by my hand. I have left nothing of that incomplete, undone.
I bless and I move on. I trust the planets to make right at the end of my reach.
One gain was to find my purpose and calling; and I know now, one is to Just Be.
The other is to be, live and regain Earth and Bush; A forester told me
Another is to find oneness with all for which I am still toiling;
Impatience, intolerance and lives of knowing are the chasms to cross
But I know I am not just this life; I have crossed over many
And graduated to know that death is but another one
The extent to which I now have a hand in choosing
To be angel-guide or God-Goddess head
The greatest toil of all was and is my healing and integration
Its purpose was to find myself.
Self is not complete, but ego has dwindled
And in this life, I have crossed over Man
I still walk the path of many names
Of Water, Warrior, PeaceSearcher, Seeker, Maven, Magical Raven, Samurai, Daughter
And now, Goddess, Priestess, Master Teacher, Shaman/Healer
To be Wombmyn
I have elevated from the confusion
Come to a delicate pass and balance
Where I can look back and see what is over yonder
That much is clear.
Writer, Artist, Conscious Creative, Blesser and Bestower of Spirit, Learner
As they say in the Image,
And so I encompass the privilege
To write the tale and tell my story
I do not belong here. I am just an Interloper
Grant me safe passage
Through
3:53pm Tuesday, July 28, 2009
--------------------------
Next!
by Maven Huggins on Wednesday, July 15, 2009 at 12:42pm
If I want someone to share meals with, does that mean I am looking outside myself?
IF I want companionship to watch the stars or the moon, does that mean I want someone else to make
me happy?
IF I believe i have paid my dues in self reflection and growth, self-sufficiency in spades, professional accomplishment, maturity in life and personal choices, absence of burdens at this half point, and I think it is now high time I be chosen and selected for indulgence, does that mean I am tired?
If it does, then so I am; let us manifest the next life correction, incarnation and body perfect consecration
IF I want companionship to watch the stars or the moon, does that mean I want someone else to make
me happy?
IF I believe i have paid my dues in self reflection and growth, self-sufficiency in spades, professional accomplishment, maturity in life and personal choices, absence of burdens at this half point, and I think it is now high time I be chosen and selected for indulgence, does that mean I am tired?
If it does, then so I am; let us manifest the next life correction, incarnation and body perfect consecration
-----------------
Bearing Witness to MJ, A Master Soul
by Maven Huggins on Saturday, June 27, 2009 at 1:08pm
Fashion a science fiction
Moonwalk your destination
Crying to the stunted man in the mirror
Plagued by female fans
The girl is mine though she Billy Jean Thriller
Tell me a discography and I will write you lives lived
On every continent, even in remote hamlets, in the millions
And even now, some are discovering new tunes
Defying descriptions for illiterate barbarians
See that God being remaking himself in the image of no other
Claiming ownership none dare\A human living an Evolution
Raising questions and re-theorizing identity
Imagine the immense loneliness of this one-no-other-calling
And to bear it with will
Etherizing boxes
Morphed labels
The difference to infinity
Eternally one uni-gender
Anti-ethnicity; this myth of races;\
A grand humanitarian
The blur of asexuality
Leaving him in perpetuity
Of a child like wonder and innocence
Recognize today, This, He, an Alter Human
A creature, alchemy, and element
Hu* beyond mere man
A clone of the previous transcending futures
The color line and multiple generations
If we assigned him scholars and institutes,
They would still falter to confine him to one allegory;
The abstract, esoteric, phenomenals are so many
In one life time, the many platforms broken by this gentle humble ingenie
True Genus and Specie unknown
Our next form and incarnation, in this life; maybe
It is now clear he hearkened from an entirely different dimension;
Another; Past or Future, Universe
To the masses, just Michael Jackson
A name for the scroll of known Intergalactic Masters
The epithet for the tombstone, “all mixed up, no answers” *
The Stranger in Moscow
* words of TRampersad
11am Saturday June 27, 2009 ©® mdhuggins
--------------------
This Place, Prosem from 2005
by Maven Huggins on Tuesday, August 18, 2009 at 9:55am
This place is an amazing place
Where love, lust and destruction are one and the same
Perpetrators will first seek, hunt and search you out
To fuck, own, parade and control you
Should you not concede, participate or refuse,
They will malign, shun, both cavort and consort against you
None other than with friends, maybe family; no less
This place?
Is a place where patience is more than a virtue:
It is in fact your weapon and protection
Your eye beyond seeing and vision
To know the true character, intention and vibration
Of a thing, person or situation
As it exists, emerges, emotes and effects
What it elicits in the last analysis
Is a totality of its reality and tells a story
Are you?
To be or not to be
With it, him, her, them, there or here
And so, you are given a context
To live, act or survive by
In this place
This place: where douendom as one claimed master says
Becomes with full understanding,
A profound, complex, novel and classic interpretation
Of our form, function and fanaticism
To realize we are deformed, unborn, babes of competing direction:
Feet backward, face forward, extended bellies, shunted bodies
We are the living unviable
Amidst great plenty, both natural and imported ~ an original peoples
Amassed from everywhere
Here to emulate the least of our past enemies, political counterparts, convenient friends
In globalization, superseding imperialism
After and through continuing colonialism
In this place
Where defiant and natural hair with proud Africanness still spells your doom
And just as in slavery days:
The subversives to the system,
Those who live and move differently, Think
Are hung, beaten, marred, blocked, run away or destroyed
And so we arrive where we started
For both this poem and history: At destruction
Before, Now and Later
Regardless of which, it is the inevitable – ruin
Said too of this beautiful paradise of a place
Remember the lands, air, mountain, forests and skies?
What is seen of our seas, beaches, rivers, drains, grasslands and savannahs?
In what condition are the port cities and The Laventille?
Gone the way of La Brea, Icacos, Chatham, and promised Cap de Ville
We now have gone the way of development and rampant exploitation
Lunar landscapes and estates of deadly industrialization abound
To take over every thing alive in our sacred spaces
Spewing poison and debilitation to keep North America
Warm and SUV running
At the cost of our breath and humane living
In this place of paradise, beauty and love
Haven of every obliteration;
Both a cursed and blessed devastation
That is this place
© Written February 23, 2005
-------------------
Peace Offerings Today
by Maven Huggins on Wednesday, June 24, 2009 at 5:24pm
For my deliverance tomorrow
I am giving a peace offering today
To staunch my hurt from its flow
I am giving a peace offering today
To stem constant misunderstandings
I am giving a peace offering today
To unlock the frustrations
I am giving a peace offering today
For blessings multiplied and restored
I am giving a peace offering today
For me to withstand and make it to a better one
I am giving a peace offering today
To be free from surround sound ugly and negativity
I am giving a peace offering today
To be apart from would-be users
I am giving a peace offering today
To change and correct toxic and poison
I am giving a peace offering today
In lieu of the drink or drugs that falsely seduce to imprison me
I am giving a peace offering today
Because I am tired of days like these
I am giving a peace offering today
To teach me how to live in compromise
I am giving a peace offering today
Because I have nothing more
I am giving a peace offering today
Knowing that it will never be enough
I give a peace offering today in sacrifice
I give a peace offering today at a high cost and price
I give a peace offering today according to whose balance sheet and values?
I gave a peace offering today
To help and save myself
I share this peace offering today
In the hopes that it balms and eases your hurts
I break this peace offering bread with you
For we shall eat and not gnash teeth tomorrow
I write of these peace offerings today
Offering tears as blood for life and your good living
By peace
And offerings, today
5:12pm June 24, 2009
--------------------------
The Art of Serenity
by Maven Huggins on Saturday, June 13, 2009 at 10:51am
About making peace where there is none
And the art of Serenity
Do not fight over another’s property;
No matter how much, there, your soul sings:
Make, build, find, create or move to own.
Not every action requires an answer or a reaction.
I am learning that every situation, conflict, problem and challenge
Almost all have one purpose: to show people to themselves;
To show who people really are;
And if you are awake/alert enough,
Directs you to who you want to be:
The pause before action,
Reaction and choice;
The halt before the bullet, the arrow or spoken word; none can be returned.
I am in the turbine of change: my thoughts, thinking, values, perspectives, requirements are in check
Anthony Robbins’ Awaken the Giant Within is my new bible, an alchemic furnace
I am in prayer for Grace to travel, weather, and souljourn this time to a happy ending
I am in a tunnel of blessing> the difficulty is the fire to spurn, to emerge the next level
10:49 am Saturday, June 13, 2009
------------------
Battle Last Night
by Maven Huggins on Wednesday, June 10, 2009 at 1:36pm
Merely to have survived
I traveled last night in a black and white polka dot dress with bright pink lace
That I just could not get right
I tried to water plants carefully and neatly placed on a rock step garden
Waiting for hose and water beings used by who I would say was once my mother
Offering no information, no salve, no soft word just eyes that were indifferent
I moved the hose to take to water, only to realize it is supposed to stay there
Returned to reconnect and could no longer spot the spout; rendering it useless and bear
I wonder of dreams and its power to tell, give guidance and reveal;
I wonder of those who interpret dreams and where or who they might be
I wonder of poor seekers lost and searching for what is not to find
I wonder of the charlatan healers I have met who sit and plot to game and bag new minds
I awoke in the middle of the night to try and give voice to an ephemeral mourning:
“I feel a perpetual hunger in my belly wondering if it is the Chinese medicine. I feel unmoored and searching for place, location, safety> there is none too little for the tempest of no time. I am ever alone in an unsupported world with no corner to call my own. Where is the salvation? Where is the deliverance? Where is the love?”
I went back to sleep and as dawn broke, Ruth Huggins, whose face I already have; her essence of spirit came to me. A woman who laughed as much as she cried, and often at the same time; a praying woman meek and humble, and full of nothing but love; I am to bee her. I am to take on that spirit. I am to pray as I eat if not breathe. Praying Humility Love is my future, maybe just my key.
In the same sleep, I begin the Jerusalem Our Father’s and Mothers Before Prayer, who art in heaven and other places unseen Hallowed be thy good name, Thy kingdoms come, Thy will be done, On earth as it is in other dimensions…Am I to rewrite the daily prayer?
I awoke and feel the heaviness of travel and battle, wash my face of the scenes and think, Pray and everything is just really, a battle against tears, to keep at bay the deluge and weight waiting to shed; tears that I no longer have patience for; Just action to free myself; not be sad and pity the journey of the lost, the seekers; of the last ones, warriors standing who have now to become peace makers among wranglers. I was asked last Sunday a new question: “What was my cause?” And my ready answer was Justice, Righteousness, Right against Wrong”; it always has been even as a child.
As I sit with bible, psalms, journal, computer and bills, I remember Moms a demon fighter spirit agent who gave me scriptures months ago, I remember her telling me when I first met her, “You have to pray” “You ready to pray?” And I haven’t; didn’t; not in the intense do-nothing-but –way she meant. I open my Amplified Bible. I read the first scripture she gave me: 4th Psalm, written in code for everything I have said or written the last few days.
“1. Answer me when I call, O God of my righteousness (uprightness, justice and right standing with You)! You have freed me when I was hemmed in (!* ) and enlarged me when I was in distress; have mercy upon me and hear my prayer. 2. O you sons of men, how long will you turn my honor and glory into shame? How long will you love vanity and futility and seek after lies? Selah [pause, and calmly think of that]! 3. But know that the Lord has set apart for Him (as surely Lady has set apart for Her) self [and given distinction to] him/her who is godly [the man or wombman of loving –kindness]. The Lord and Lady listens and heeds when I call to Him/Her. 4. Be angry [or stand in awe] and sin not; commune with your own hearts upon your beds and be silent (sorry for the things you say in your hearts). Selah [pause, and calmly think of that]! [Eph. 4:26] 5. Offer just and right sacrifices; trust (lean on and be confident) in the Lord/Lady. 6. Many say, Oh, that we might see some good! Lift up the light of Your countenance upon us O Lord/Lady. 7. You have put more joy and rejoicing in my heart than [they know] when their wheat and new wine have yielded abundantly. 8. In peace I will both lie down and sleep, for You, Lord/Lady, alone make me dwell in safety and confident trust.”
And once I become That Praying Wombman , then I shall channel my great cousin Papa Neezer, reading Carlos Castenada’s The Way of the Yacqui Indians into my next stage of change, Shaman, Wounded Healer. I battled last night not for rest but to yield a way out from my status of perpetual digression.
“Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession. (P2:8). And I said, Oh that I had wings like a dove! For then would I fly away, and be at rest. Lo, then would I wander far off, and remain in the wilderness (bush). Selah. P55:6-7)
9:52am Wednesday, June 10, 2009
---------------------
Notes on a Learner Survivor
by Maven Huggins on Thursday, June 4, 2009 at 8:04am
A scar malformed during healing is not important
What is important is that I survived surgery in Trinidad, alive, not maimed, well-adjusted, healed and corrected (for a time)
I lived in New York City for eleven years, unscathed, untouched, and inviolate; so I shall survive Trinidad
then, despite the beasts running free and wild, roughshod across life and liberties, natures, the greenery, sacred spaces and species, livelihoods and bodies.
Saving money, returning to that program, after buying a used vehicle, paying for my private surgery, and buying new furniture for a new living space when I owned none before---doing that all cash (living by Marjorie’s tenet “not where is the money, but here is the money”, is better than burning money in exorbitant rent for a house, making somebody else richer, supporting their lifestyle at the expense of yours. Decisions and choices are weighty and difficult, but the value to be earned in courage moving from fear is gratifying
Expanding your heart, mind, consciousness, awareness and sense of sharing is what happens when you give up a space that you held for yourself, in protection, hoarding, no matter how you talked about your inner peace and serenity makes for stretching and growing; a lightness of being also
Life is good however it comes; without the struggle, the fight or the resistance, staying centered in the flow is to hold no presumptions, take no assumptions, release all expectations with palms open ---giving, receiving, sharing, engaging, believing, and not counting, with no complaints
Even when your friends do you wrong, have nothing to say, walk away to another potential day…it may be that friend, in some motivation reappears offering a breakthrough, opportunity or solution.
Time tells, if you allow; if you have not sullied, if you have not altered the channels or corrupted the energy fields that are to be honored.
Be smarter than the dummies surrounding you. Do not take their taunts and petty challenges, play their game, on their turf, on their court of thinking, within their mindset, in front of their minions; not every bal l thrown to your net is yours in the first instance, or one to volley in the latter. Smile, glide and stay focusssed.
Elspeth reminds me to say, know how to be and become free
These are notes on surviving to this day,
Thursday, June 04, 2009
-------------------------
The Price and Cost in Prose and Poems
by Maven Huggins on Wednesday, June 24, 2009 at 8:49pm
Poem: This Place
This place is an amazing place
Where love, lust and destruction are one and the same
Perpetrators will first seek, hunt and search you out
To fuck, own, parade and control you
Should you not concede, participate or refuse,
They will malign, shun, both cavort and consort against you
None other than with friends, maybe family; no less
This place?
Is a place where patience is more than a virtue:
It is in fact your weapon and protection
Your eye beyond seeing and vision
To know the true character, intention and vibration
Of a thing, person or situation
As it exists, emerges, emotes and effects
What it elicits in the last analysis
Is a totality of its reality and tells a story
Are you?
To be or not to be
With it, him, her, them, there or here
And so, you are given a context
To live, act or survive by
In this place
This place: where douendom as one claimed master says
Becomes with full understanding,
A profound, complex, novel and classic interpretation
Of our form, function and fanaticism
To realize we are deformed, unborn, babes of competing direction:
Feet backward, face forward, extended bellies, shunted bodies
We are the living unviable
Amidst great plenty, both natural and imported ~ an original peoples
Amassed from everywhere
Here to emulate the least of our past enemies, political counterparts, convenient friends
In globalization, superseding imperialism
After and through continuing colonialism
In this place
Where defiant and natural hair with proud Africanness still spells your doom
And just as in slavery days:
The subversives to the system,
Those who live and move differently, Think
Are hung, beaten, marred, blocked, run away or destroyed
And so we arrive where we started
For both this poem and history: At destruction
Before, Now and Later
Regardless of which, it is the inevitable – ruin
Said too of this beautiful paradise of a place
Remember the lands, air, mountain, forests and skies?
What is seen of our seas, beaches, rivers, drains, grasslands and savannahs?
In what condition are the port cities and The Laventille?
Gone the way of La Brea, Icacos, Chatham, and promised Cap de Ville
We now have gone the way of development and rampant exploitation
Lunar landscapes and estates of deadly industrialization abound
To take over every thing alive in our sacred spaces
Spewing poison and debilitation to keep North America
Warm and SUV running
At the cost of our breath and humane living
In this place of paradise, beauty and love
Haven of every obliteration;
Both a cursed and blessed devastation
That is this place
© Written February 23, 2005
Peace Offerings Today
I am giving a peace offering today
For my deliverance tomorrow
I am giving a peace offering today
To staunch my hurt from its flow
I am giving a peace offering today
To stem constant misunderstandings
I am giving a peace offering today
To unlock the frustrations
I am giving a peace offering today
For blessings multiplied and restored
I am giving a peace offering today
For me to withstand and make it to a better one
I am giving a peace offering today
To be free from surround sound ugly and negativity
I am giving a peace offering today
To be apart from would-be users
I am giving a peace offering today
To change and correct toxic and poison
I am giving a peace offering today
In lieu of the drink or drugs that falsely seduce to imprison me
I am giving a peace offering today
Because I am tired of days like these
I am giving a peace offering today
To teach me how to live in compromise
I am giving a peace offering today
Because I have nothing more
I am giving a peace offering today
Knowing that it will never be enough
I give a peace offering today in sacrifice
I give a peace offering today at a high cost and price
I give a peace offering today according to whose balance sheet and values?
I gave a peace offering today
To help and save myself
I share this peace offering today
In the hopes that it balms and eases your hurts
I break this peace offering bread with you
For we shall eat and not gnash teeth tomorrow
I write of these peace offerings today
Offering tears as blood for life and your good living
By peace
And offerings, today
5:12pm June 24, 2009
-----------------------
Words Striving
A pregnant time in the cosmos
One where there is a solitary twinkling star for you at the window
A signifier in a way
To tell of promises, birthings, manifestations and other appearances
It is a time of convergence, complexity and confusion
Despite the pain and disappointment, it is the gain of a clear path emerging
It is you, your soul extending out to meet
Intertwining with the Universe
IT, Them, The Creator, Hosts of Creation;
THEY, IT distilling down to you
Blessings, anointings, enablings;
A Third Eye crowned and in tune
And all you can do is offer up yourself
In supplication, beseeching and prayer:
Prosper my hands
Forward my feet
Make clear the vision
Deliver me safe and safely
Provide and Complete
12:57 am 1.16.04
-------------------
Lift My Spirit
As it bewilders
From wildness of news
In a banana republic
State of mad affairs
Lift My Spirit
My eyes tear upon reading those words
As it speaks my heart
Consensus of what I could not
Too abused to name
Frustrating my intent
Lift My Spirit
From income I am grateful for
Yet, no work
From the sky falling down about me
In a place that has no use for smart people
But will retain rejoice in smartmen
Those fallen and those still building
Mansions on the backs of small poor people
Trying to save money from mattresses and shacks
Lift My Spirit
From the Uff Commission
Precursor to a kangaroo court
From CLICO only Caribbean black man conglomerate-
And-a-nephew-who-did-not-value-his-own-family-legacy-
So-tell-me-why-I-should-
Bailout from and by its members’ club
PNM UNC cop a Lodge
We see modern millennia of boys club anew/renew
Lift My Spirit
From the murder that runs and breezes
Like waves in the beaches and leaves in the rainforest
By the filth that we breathe, walk and seep
From Ministers and Governors insider trading
Appearing on deals they are braiding
For us to sweep up, swallow and accept
Lift My Spirit
From bullshit news conferences
Lips moving but no sense-us-coming-down
The gaps heard are chasms
Any old rumshop story to fill in the gap
For one drama, there are so many, leaps to another
And one goose is not the gander
Lift My Spirit
As I try to maintain sanity
The mix of stories, from Obama mountaintops
To Trinidad underground caves, below valleys
Lift My Spirit
Amidst all calls to be anything but sane
In a world economy at the end of capitalism
On life support, free and unencumbered
For what sick people die without,
Medics, Care, Competency, Treatment, Funding
But greed and its resuscitation is more viable and important
Than any idea to be human
Lift My Spirit
From men with beautiful hands who appear sane
Promising to take you to Suriname ‘cause you have something to offer
Who give the most wonderful fun, company and distraction
Only to emerge suffering from bipolar schizophrenia or something other
Who love you and think you are sliced bread one day
To throw you away the next because they say,
You can’t lead them to Jesus Christ
What the F…fella?
And, yes I know the Africanists say
The way to heaven is through a black woman’s legs
Even for a Potogee Chinee Suriname deMeneges
But since when did I become Mother Mary Teresa?
Lift My Spirit
From the assault above
The deafening silence beside and below
And the abounding inactivity from anyone, someone
Purported leaders, voices, and activists
Lift My Spirit
From the people asleep
On Carnival, KFC, Fete, Carib, Pornography, Vodka, Sex and Whisky
From traffic, murder, robbery, bobol, and they just too busy
And, “dah eh my bus’ness” tinking, tinkling, fiddling
Lift My Spirit
From people who promise and invite
To Caura River but leave you at the appointed hour
To realize a carnival fete
As the means to alter a reality
Too hard to process
The abandon, the freeing up, the release
Lift My Spirit
By the renewal of interest in true calypso
The season new selections
Playing on 94.7
A good crop this year
An option for appease and enjoyment
Lift My Spirit
Thought to beautiful mixed women
Who have nothing to study
Enjoying life with never a worry
Reminding me to try another form of living
Decapitated brain no thinking
Lift My Spirit
Two days before a 44th birthday
Wherefore the purpose of this damnation?
To live another day’s dispensation
To live another day, lift my spirit
12 noon Wednesday, February 04, 2009
The Solitudinous Imbibing of Life as a Writer
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