rest well, coretta

you've done your work.

peace to you & yours.

gentle genocide

mark fiore is one of the best doin it right now.

see what you can do.

still processing...

last night was all about tears & cleansing.

thought about some things i haven't in awhile. had some revelations...

this year is going to be about renewal, facing fears. jumping over hurdles i've put in my own way.

i'm not a fearful person. so going thru these ordeals has been very trying. it's like i look in the mirror some days and don't recognize myself. blank, dreamless sleeps. crying jags that split me in half.

i've been energized in the last few weeks. empowered. but i've also been broken down.

feeling alienated frightens me. so does boredom.

i wanna write more about this, but the words just won't come. i can't rush this...whatever it is.

so i suppose i'll just ask for the strength to navigate it and go from there...




if someone had told me 5 yrs ago that i'd own a cat, i would have laughed.

but...here i am.

this little bugger & i have really bonded. in the last 6 months or so, we've carved out routines, enjoyed snuggles, had a few fights, and some makeups.

i knew he was unusual 'cause i felt drawn to him so soon after meeting him. even ppl who don't like cats like this cat. yes, he does take a moment to warm up to you, but once he does...

so they took him out of his cage for me, and i held him. his little chin went right to the crook of my arm. and the blue/green/yellow-ish eyes said it all.

this was my cat.

he came to me @ 12 wks old and took to my house immediately.
he does not fear water.
i call him my familiar. and i think he realizes/responds to that.
he protects me and has a watchful eye.
then there's the habit of resting under my altar...
he wakes me up if/when i sleep too long.
there's nothing "prima donna"-ish about him. but he loves to be loved.

4 legged ppl are cool.

...on another note


maybe i'll tackle this over the next week or so....


love trilogy (...concieved after waking in a hotel room in jersey)

i don't just love him
i luh him
in dunbar patois

love like
lynch-riskin' love.

the love of black folks
is laced with apprehension

we are
civil rights grantees
in urban flight realities

massa still watches
listens at drum circles
infiltrates underground railroad stops
scooping up lost ones
along the way

gentrification paddy-rolls communities
out of existence
project communes scattered to the wind
stealing cultures and communities
all over again

if you still speak the language of your village
you are blessed...

the hood's fucked up but
home is home and
increasingly we are being forced to realize that
we cannot go home again
--at least not until we own the land
own ourselves

we must become
sankofa phoenixes
working thru the past to the future
rising from the ashes
see past/present/future as one

cp time was once
multidimensional shamanic reality

our assets now
liabilities in the face of
the anti-culture.

black love is endangered
hunted for its beauty and consciousness

its strength can build monuments
that laugh at time

our most precious commodity
like the gold of africa
--so plentiful we treated it like
georgia clay
we cannot afford to forget
our worth in the eyes of others.

stay watchful
be wary
wake up.



my arrival was cloaked in silence
rest. immobility.
more like a wake than a birth...

there was praying
wringing of hands...

i was early but
cosmically punctual;
i had to belong
to neptune:
ruler of murky and
clear waters
destined to duality,
soul comprehension.

the prayer became protection
prenatal apprehension an excuse for fierce independence
"no need to worry...i am here."
hands that rubbed themselves raw
in anticipated grief
were rarely turned to me in anger
but fed/held/clothed me
with love

relearned priestess rites thru
house-playing shame
...the universe has to
make up for our deletions;
denied rites of passage become
misplaced ashe
creeping into unicorn wallpapered bedrooms...


lived life in books and magazines
...it was like the written word
was never lost to me
i'd kept
the histories/mysteries/stories/wisdom
too long
to forget.

my womb is lined with
cave etchings
sumerian script and
griot lessons
hieroglyphs they haven't uncovered on earth yet...

if they could decipher menstruation,
they'd find many women
are actually treasure maps.

goddess heritage my birthright
not because i'm african--but because i remember.

willfully refusing amnesia
in the face of babylon.


food fight

disinterested motherfuckers
carving up my city like
raw roast beef

we need more
urban vegan warriors
to stop the slaughter

eat less chicken
read more papers

(more) stuff

today's myspace blog entry

now for what i really wanted to talk about.

so mr. president says he doesn't wanna recognize the new palestinian govt. 'cause hamas will be involved.

well, folks weren't really feeling the anc, either.

but isn't that part of the whole "democracy" ideal he's always going on & on about? isn't the point that these ppl can put whoever they want in power?

isn't the point that they have power/govt in the first place? that they act in their own, best, and sovereign (& we all know he must not understand that word) interests?

it's only democratic when we say so.



he says i'm full lately...
becoming womanly.
i feel
heavy with creativity

my babies
lack physical manifestation--
i bear lyrical children
foster positive living environments for metaphors
carry messages on my hips
diplomatically translated
by my inbetween.

i am
more woman now
no need to roar...
returning to the comfort
of womb whispers
and peacock feathers.

my weapons:
earth tones
and bluejeans.

call me boho if u wanna
i was who i was
when erykah wasn't on the radar yet
and india was stll singin in coffeeshops

...hoppin planets
just for fun
ain't too much in my line of sight
worthy of keeping me grounded.

dreams reflected
in diamond sutras
and wide-ruled notebooks...
don't care if you think
i'm perpetuating bullshit
goddess/empress/queen images
unrealistic pussy powers.

complexity is my birthright.

why perpetuate mediocrity?

i am made in the image of

who are you keeping alive?

i am
more woman now

i am


how NOT to be a father

this dude wrote the book.


dr. king et al.

the first half of tre's latest entry (dated 1/16) speaks to mlk and his legacy/influence...which got me to thinking...

i'll be the first to admit: while i respect the man & his accomplishments, i take the actual day for granted. i don't feel the need to go to mlk convocations or speeches held for the occasion. they could just as easily not give me the day off and i wouldn't complain.

far too often blk ppl relegate their history to 3 times a year: mlk day, the month of february, and kwanzaa (for those who celebrate, anyway).

what about the rest of the year?
what are your children learning in november? march? may?
at what other times do we come together to address the state of our union?

there will be no more great black leaders.
intellectuals, yes. role models, sure. entrepreneurs, definitely.

but the revolution has to start with food co-ops. it has to start with taking back our communities/schools/families. it has to start with self-determination and self-discipline--and i'm not necessarily talking about buying into the american dream.

i'm thinking maybe we need to forge something new out of that dream/nightmare and make it something that works for us.

we could never put that job on one man or woman. anything from here on out is going to take a group effort.

i mean, shit. i'm just talking. i don't have the answer either. probably because there isn't just one answer, and never will be again (if there ever was).

we are being assaulted on all fronts, not just one. it isn't just about segregation anymore. it's a multi-faceted, moving target now. and the vision required to hit said target is monumental.

my only advice--the only advice i've determined is worth following--is this: fight your battle. use your gifts to the fullest extent possible, and talk to others who are doing the same. form diverse networks & coalitions.

fuck all this over-specialization; be well-rounded. but maintain your focus.

and then maybe some solutions will start trickling in.



the family (chapter 1)

one by one the scenes and people of my childhood are disappearing.


the things and people i thought would always be there are leaving me.

the grandparents who weren't just biological, but loved.
the uncle who spoiled me rotten.
the wise elders.
the family friends.

the availability of thundercats and he-man on dvd is very necessary (when do we get voltron?? huh??)...but there's so much more missing now.

i'm used to death. my family is small, relatively close-knit, but realistic. as a jackson, funeral planning is something that comes with the territory.

we don't live long. we party hard, and we don't linger.
when life is more existing and less living, we know how to let go.

i don't have a lot of "blood" family, but there are plenty of people around who we treat as such. blood was never a pre-requisite for us. if you were fam, you were fam. you could be an ex husband/wife, a distant cousin, play-aunt or godparent. when you're in, you're in. and it doesn't matter if you come around a lot or a little...we're glad to see you when you're there. and we're all gonna have a good time.

it's a lesson i've taken with me throughout life.

maybe that's why i'm chomping at the bit right now. i think my mother's sobering attitude drenched a lot of the reckless party spirit in me, but...i do enjoy living. good times are important. so are good food. and good people. friends are golden.

i know this.
it's in my blood.
we must have been the keepers of the village celebrations or something...

there is more i could write about them...
the ones i know and the ones i don't.

the ones who i am blessed enough to be able to name and place on my altar, and the ones who only speak to me in dreams.

the ones who protected me when i came into the world just a little too early.

the ones who heard the prayers of my parents and still form a shield around me today.

but...i'm not ready.

one day.

cult of personality

ENFJ - "Persuader". Outstanding leader of groups. Can be aggressive at helping others to be the best that they can be. 2.5% of total population.
Free Jung Word Choice Test (similar to MBTI)
personality tests by similarminds.com

this is far more descriptive/accurate, tho.


i really wish i had better news.

i honestly do. but i really feel that if i see something i think ppl should know about, i gotta tell 'em. so....

wtf is really going on with the indian gambling industry? (again...the commentary is probably best left ignored...)

and why can't we make up our minds to save the babies?


stupid white men

first pat robertson, and now pat boone.

just a little something to get you started (addendum: the links are my own.):

Wes Vernon (WV): Recently, XM [Satellite] Radio did a four-week marathon across six of its channels, starting out with the hits of the Thirties, and going right up to the Millennium. I followed most of that, I really enjoyed it until they got to the mid-Eighties. Right about then, I sort of fell off the sled. [At that point] they got into stuff I couldn't recognize [or] deal with. Is it just me? Is it a cultural or generational difference, or what?

BOONE: Oh, man, the whole music industry has been [dragged] into the ghetto. In fact, I see it as a ghettoization ... a coarsening of the culture, led by the entertainment industry. [This applies to] music in particular, because once ... hip-hop [and rap] music came in--because it was an outgrowth of ... a street or urban culture.

That is not to be derogatory. It was kids ... doing hip-hop stuff and rap and you know, throwing themselves under the pavement and doing all kinds of crazy gyrations, and really dramatic athletic things....

It captured the attention of not only the kids, but the record executives who saw a new thing that they could make a lot of money with, so they promoted it like crazy. And they discovered that if a hip-hop or rap artist had a criminal record, and if he was part of a gang ... out of it came an overnight hugely popular NWA [which stood for] "N**gers-With-Attitude."

Then there was Two-Live Crew, with them advocating that you should get a gun and shoot a cop.

All of this gangster mentality, and the danger and the guns, "Pimps and Whores and Bitches"--and all of this stuff was actively promoted by the hierarchy of the record business. They saw they could make millions promoting performers [who] made sure you knew they had been to prison, they'd been shot up.

The guy that was on with Dave Letterman last night calls himself Fifty-Cent. The first question was, "You'd been shot nine times?" [His answer was] "Yeah." And then he talks about being in prison and being in gang wars and selling drugs. So that [supposedly] makes him a very hip artist.

So all these artists--I say artists, [I should say] these performers--are making millions, driving Rolls-Royces, and buying [fancy homes], and dragging urban and suburban kids into a ghetto culture. It's one of the most ironic, crazy things that I have ever seen in my life.

WV: About as idiotic as you could imagine. Pointless.

BOONE: Yes, I mean they wear big diamond rings, put diamonds in their teeth.... [They get] all kinds of endorsements and people around them just making them into glamorous figures. They put out a record [and for] most of it, you can't understand a single word even if they perform it [live]. You're distracted by them grabbing their crotches. They've got--they say--"skanky-looking" women behind them, chanting and making all kinds of suggestive moves. All of it [is] designed to make this rap performer--and occasionally a white performer just trying to get in on it--making him look like [someone] who is able to serve as many women that they all desire. He takes his pick of all the women, and gives them ... champagne. I mean, these are all in the lyrics of their songs.

One that I saw on "Saturday Night Live" recently ... was doing a song called 'You Can Lick my Lollypop.' He makes it very clear what he's referring to. This is about a four-minute number as he struts around the stage, and the background singers act [as if] they just can't wait to get to him.

uh huh.

oh. if you'd prefer lighter reading, glance at this. warning: the overly-pretentious commentary might kill your buzz.


some friday musings

the economy's still shot.

why do we still have ppl coal mining in 2006?

i can say this about pat robertson: he's an equal opportunity idiot. other folks seem to have similar thoughts. big up to mom & dad for refusing to let me turn on the 700 club, even as background noise.

i would kill for some of these right about now. i'd machine gun a few kittens for for this veggie burger, too. why the hell am i so hungry lately?



temple of my familiar

i wanna go here.
and here.
walk thru gates like these.

my father brought home pictures like this from his tour in vietnam. ever since i was a child, i've wanted to visit places like that. where churches were more than "churches".

i have always felt at home in holy/sacred spaces. the older the better. catholic churches are some of my favorites...i suppose since they're the closest to the ancient ones we have that are relatively accessible to me.

although i'm sure y'all know i'm not into the whole christian side of things, i love god. i am most myself in those spaces where people gather their energy for the good of something they percieve as greater than themselves.

i'm not sure why.
all those lives as a priestess i suppose.

you need this movie.

just trust me on this one, kids.

the folks behind it all

it was given to me, so i pass it to you.
more people need to see more things like this.

i think that part of the reason this country is stuck wallowing in its own mess is because we're understimulated.

i know most people would say we're overstimulated....too much access to information and such. but most of the information and images we're exposed to here are junk food. they make you feel good for a moment or three, but over time, they're just going to make you sick. and dis-ease can only lead to time and energy spent on regaining wellness (re-education) instead of spending that time and energy into making something new. better. something that will benefit.

there is too much power in the wrong hands.

our "freedoms" aren't burgeoning our creativity. in any sphere...not just art/music/whatever.

we have confused a high standard of living with satisfactory quality of life.
they are not the same thing.
i'm going to keep saying that until people get it.


i love this man

if i was that kind of psycho girl/fan, i'd probably send him an email & ask him to marry me.

what can i say? i like the way he thinks.

I sometimes think that if everyone were simultaneously exposed, if we finally found out exactly how weird everyone else really was--if, as an old cartoon of mine has it, we all had X-ray vision--we might all finally agree to let drop quite a lot of the pious horseshit that passes for public discourse in this country. The people who are really creepy and dangerous are the ones who aren't faking; who really do wait until marriage and then only ever do it in the missionary position in the dark for the God-sanctioned purpose of procreation. It gives me a little shudder of revulsion just to think about it.

right on, tim.
right on.

(read the artist's statements. seriously.)


take this how u wanna.

i know earth goddesses.
fire women.

i suppose i’m a love sprite.

but not like…a silly, pixie-ish one just out for blazing trails & breaking hearts.
i'm an older, wiser one.
full of river-water and tiger strength.
seeing thru lotus-blossom irises.

one that brings you the loves that teach you lessons, change your life.
loves that make you whole when you’re broken.
and when you're whole? my love breaks you down...
only to rebuild you in the image of god.

that type of love goddess.

a spirit not really meant to stay here for long. or maybe just didn’t need to.

but decided to settle in for a loooong stay anyway.

how can i say these things about myself?
how can anyone?

does it make sense? fuck if i know.
i just know it. it comes to me. in my dreams, in my thoughts...

and right now, in this constant state of dream-waking....i don't know what's really real and what isn't. i don't know how i drive to work in the morning. how i make it home at night. i just do.

i'm going thru the motions on a lot of levels. for at least 8 hrs a day.
but i know what i hear. what i see.

it's becoming more and more difficult to shut my eyes.

if that means
getting crazier
dancing naked in moonlight
dressing like a child
shedding my skin
following my bliss
buying more jewelry
skipping town

...so be it.

i gotta get free.

hang in there...there's prolly gonna be several more ramblings like this one before it's all over.

just do like the bumper sticker says: get in, sit down, shut up, hold on.


happy new year...

i'm rather exhausted, so i'll just leave it at that.

i'll be...around. one way or another. but if you don't hear from me, it's just due to a need for introspection.

catch y'all on the other side.


(addendum: ok. so i came back the next day & posted an entry....who knew? guess i'm more resilient than i thought. huh? huh?)