Friday, September 23, 2005
Easier Said Than Done - Cover
The crisp, ripe smell of destiny is aglow, vividly.
Awaiting accomodation from my smile.
So, my tender lips, ever so gently embraces and ignites such flames of promise.
I shall heal.
The frostbitten and brittle days of yesteryears rested heavily on my soul
......a burdened milestone smoothed from bouts of blue anguish.
I shall release.
Taking hold of the future without fear, using all of my senses to embrace what
The future represents my passion awakened from the soul of my undying spirit.
Reflection of my bittersweet past brings the realization that time has released
me from the gaping wounds of my blood and tear soaked journey.
Inspite of and despite all ...... I've discovered my own path on my own and for
my own .....finding my destiny was Easier Said Than Done.
Easier Said Than Done.
Dedicated to my sister, mother and all of the beautiful and selfless women who are doing it and doing it well ..... regardless!
Posted by Unknown at 7:23 AM
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Beautiful Bermuda. With all that has been going on with Hurricane Katrina, most of my attention has been focused on collecting supplies and doing what I can to try and aid the survivors of such a devastating event. But I would be remiss if I didn't send some love to an island that opened it's hospitable arms and welcomed me like the prodigal child returning home.
I visited the island from September 1st to September 4th for my first booksigning and a live radio broadcast.
Love to True Reflections Bookstore located in a quaint walkdown in parish of Hamilton surrounded by Bistros and quiet places to sit and reflect. Also only a stone's throw away from a HUGE Louis Vuitton store. Can't be mad at that. Valerie Young and Michelle really took care of a sistah and I will forever be grateful.
Also big holla's going out to the staff of the Hott 1075 Radio Station who let me take over the midday radio waves and made a little black girl from Chicago feel like a star. Bootise, Nefertari, Isadore, Brittney and Miss Thang .... please let me return the favor when you come to my city.
For those that have never been, I recommend running your toes through the pink sand and splashing in the blue waters. Don't leave without taking a tour and learning some of the rich history. Hangout at the Swizzle Inn where most who patronize swagger out. Eat a fish sandwich and visit the coves. BUT WHATEVER YOU DO, don't think you can out drink a Bermudian, 'cause baby .... on that little island they know how to knock 'em back. And I love that about them. On an island that's extrodinary, lives a people that outshines it by miles.
Posted by Unknown at 10:06 PM
On Sept. 11, 2001, in the worst single act of terrorism committed on U.S. soil, nearly 3,000 people died when two hijacked jetliners crashed into New York's World Trade Center, causing the twin towers to fall, a commandeered jetliner smashed into the Pentagon and a fourth hijacked plane crashed in western Pennsylvania.
The fearless leaders of our country took time out of their busy schedules to observe a moment of silence. But I wonder what they are really thinking? Is President Bush thinking how he can tell his mother to shut up 'cause she's been talking crazy lately? Is Dick Cheney counting the BILLIONS of dollars that his company Haluburton is about to rake in from cleaning up New Orleans? I mean really, they couldn't find some unemployed person who is now looking for a way to feed their family to do that and pay them that money? Is Laura Bush trying to figure out how far up Kanye West's butt she can stick her sensible heels for talking bad about her man on national tv? And does Dick Cheney's wife think at all?
Well, God Bless America.
Posted by Unknown at 10:12 AM
Thursday, September 08, 2005
This is Life
Bitter wind slaps indiscriminately against my forgotten, lucid windows while my melancholy tears, inflamed with tenderness, cascade wearily and stain my velvet journal of yesteryear a deep hue of azure.
This is alone.
Hesitation peeks in momentarily from the sleek corner of my worn eyes—swollen and drained yet still lovely, in an odd sense. I wince. Another untruth, another abandonment, another cease of power. I surrender my all for some sanity..any solace.
This is afraid.
Solitude envelops my nakedness-refined in the serene seclusion. All denigrated are those sorrows, weeps and nightly rhythmic whimpers. The stale warmth of the diminutive crawl space is my Sabbath. I cry for me. You. Us.
This is without Love.
Posted by Unknown at 12:50 PM