Love Rejected

By Lucile Clifton (Pictured)


Love rejected
Hurts so much more
than Love rejecting;
they act like they don't love their country
No
what it is
is they found out
their country don't love them.

Black Is Best

By Larry Thompson

Black is best.
My mother forgot to tell me.
But I told her
that black is best.
And says: Boy hush your mouth
I again say:
Black is best mamma.
And she hit me.
But I keep saying:
Black is best.

Motto

By: Langston Hughes

I play it cool
And dig all jive -
That's the reason
I stay alive.

My motto,
As I live and learn
Is
Dig and be dug
In return.

God's Trombones

By James Weldon Johnson

Take him, Lord - this morning -

Wash him with hyssop inside and out,

Hang him up and drain him dry of sin.

Pin his ear to the wisdom post,

And make his words sledge hammers of truth -

Beating on the iron heart of sin.

Lord God, this morning -

Put his ey to the telescope of eternity,

And let him look upon the paper walls of time.

Lord, turpentine his imagination,

Put perpetual motion in his arms,

Fill him full of the dynamite of they power,

Anoint him all over with the oil of thy salvation,

And set his tongue on fire.



Be Kind

"Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle."

- T.H. Thompson and John Watson

Definition of Time

By Unknown

Time is money.  We have no right to waste it.
Time is power.  We have no right to dissipate it.
Time is influence.  We have no right to throw it away.
Time is life.  We must value it.
Time is a sacred trust from God.  We must answer for every moment.
Time is preparation for eternity.  We must redeem it.

The Test of A Man

Author Unknown


The test of a man is the fight that he makes.
The grit that he daily shows.
The way that he stands on his feet.
And takes life's numerous bumps and blows.

A coward can smile,
When there's not to fear.
And nothing, his progress bars.
But it takes a man to stand and cheer.
While the other fellow stars.

It isn't the victory at all,
But, the fight a brother makes.
A man when driven against a wall.
takes the blows of fate.

With his hand held high.
Bleeding, bruised, and pale!
Is the man, who will win, fate defied,
For he isn't afraid to fail.

If

By Rudyard Kipling


If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk to wise;


If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;


If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word abotu your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"


If you can talk with crowds and keep your virture,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

Invictus

By: William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the Pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeoning of chancee

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged the punishments the scroll.

I am the master of my fate:

I am the captain of my soul.

One Name, Two Fates

As I sat in the San Francisco Airport, I mused, "I want a book."  Dr. Smiles, who was all smiles, lovingly replied, "I didn't know you could read.  I guess after ten years, you do learn something new." I responded with a toothy grin.  Feeling the effects of the marathon, I gingerly raised myself from the hard plastic airport chair and wobbled to the bookstore.  Inside, I shuffled through the "bestsellers", "classics", and "pocket books" in search of an interesting read for the return trip to Atlanta.

The Other Wes Moore: One Name, Two Fates by Wes Moore caught my attention.  It tells a true life story of two African-American boys who share the name Wes Moore.  They coincidentally grew up blocks apart in single-parent homes in Baltimore, Maryland.  Although they are superficially similar, their difference is major - one Wes Moore escapes the trappings of the inner city and becomes a Rhodes Scholar and White House Fellow while the other Wes Moore becomes a convicted felon sentenced to life in prison without parole.  Is it a tale of mistaken identity? Hardly, but it is a thought provoking journey through the lives of the two boys who grow up to be men.  Both are initially enamored with the promise of street life, but one Wes Moore diverges while the other is engulfed.  As you read about their respective lives, you start to wonder how their lives turned out so different.  What clicked for one Wes? At what point did Wes' second chance become his last?

I encourage you to read this book because "the chilling truth is that Wes's story could have been [ours]; the tragedy is that [our] story could have been his."

Bus Ride

By Kate Daniels

Niobe is very old now.
She has hardly anything left
to lose: her teeth, her eyesight
are already gone, her hair's
falling out in gray-black clumps.
All her children are dead.
So when the white man wants
to sit down, and gives her the Look,
she can't tell if it's tiredness
or strength that keeps her fixed
on the plastic seat.
Suddenly
everyone in very quiet.
Heat whirs in through the opens the door and tells her
to get out if she won't move back.
But Niobe won't
move back. She's lived
her life. She knows
she's right. Only god can hurt
someone as much
as she's been hurt.
And they aren't god
because they're scared
of her - an old woman
who's almost crushed
with only this much left:
to lift her chin
and look them in their eyes
and shake her head
and sit there, riding
all the way to Hisotry.

First Fig, Second Fig

By Edna St. Vincent Millay First Fig My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - It gives a lovely light! Second Fig Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand; Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!

The Lost Wife

By Sean Dunne (1956-1995)

A poet by the fireside cries
For his dead wife. Whiskey draws
Sadness from him like a keen.
He talks of voice, hair, skin,
Holds a ring up to the light
And frames the space where she has been.

B.O.B.

There was a time when Bombs over Birmingham, Alabama was an everyday occurrence. Innocent people, both Blacks and Whites, lived in terror as racial tensions came to blows during a hot summer in 1963. Blacks demanded equity and a legitimate hope of fulfilling the American Dream, while some Whites, not all Whites, forcefully denounced and violently opposed integration and demanded for continued State sponsored segregation.

Blood flowed through the streets of Birmingham. Domestic terrorism, corrupt government officials, and civil disobedience became an accepted norm. Party lines where drawn. Every voice – in support or alternatively in opposition – was heard. Crosses illuminated the night sky; bombs rumbled the earth; attack dogs patrolled the streets – Birmingham, Alabama and much of the south was spinning out of control.

Anthony Grooms’ novel Bombingham examines this chaotic time through the eyes of Walter Burke, a soldier fighting in Vietnam. Burke is trying to write a letter to the parents of a fallen comrade and he’s only able to think of his childhood friend, his parents, and how his life changed during one summer during the Civil Rights movement. The book is paints a vivid picture of the struggle and sacrifices of Blacks fighting for civil rights, while creating a juxtaposition with the violence of war-torn Vietnam.

This is a good read for those who like fiction co-mingled historical accuracy and historical figures.

Braving the Glass Path

Swamps and I randomly found Alma Fullerton’s book titled Walking on Glass while coming back from a walk. The mysterious book we found was on loan from the local public library. Being civically conscious, we decided to return the book to the library on our next walk. During the interim, I decided to read Fullerton’s book since it was short and had an interesting title.

Fullerton's debut novel is a free verse story, written as journal entries from an unnamed protagonist. The central character is a teenage boy living in California and dabbling in west coast gang culture. The story focuses on the unnamed boy's attempt to come to term with his mother's failed suicide attempt, her current vegetative state, and his inability to ease his and her suffering.

The novel is thought provoking in not what it says, but what it leaves unsaid for the reader to ponder. What would you do if you had to watch someone you love lay in an unresponsive vegetative state? Would you stay hopeful of their recovery, even when doctors believe otherwise, or would you want to commit euthanasia on them, not to kill them, but as a why to set them free?

Is Your Fate Written?

I just finished reading Brad Meltzer’s New York Times Best Seller The Book of Fate and it was really enjoyable. I’m use to reading Meltzer’s work on the new comic book Justice League of America, but this was my first time reading his work in a novel. The novel is about an overarching government informant conspiracy involving high ranking CIA, FBI, and Secret Service agents. The story is told from the prospective of Wes, a former presidential assistant to fictional former President Leland Manning. Wes finds himself in the middle of an unraveling conspiracy as he attempts to stay alive and figure out the depth and players in the conspiracy.

Easy and enjoyable read.

From Lead to Gold

Wonder Bread recently recommended that I read Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist and it was perhaps one of the simplest yet most enjoyable books I've read in a long time. The story chronicles the journey of Spanish sheepherder Santiago who pursues his personal legend to adventure in northern Africa in search of treasure at the Egyptian pyramids.

The story is filled with twist, turns, and interesting characters, but most importantly it’s filled with Santiago going through a period of self discovery and realizing the importance of him following his dreams and maintaining his faith in God’s purpose for him. I found the story inspirational and encouraging because it led to my own introspection of my own personal legend and reminded me of the importance of listening to my own heart.

Intruder Alert: Multiple Sclerosis

This week’s book of the week was Multiple Sclerosis: The Horrendous, Notorious, Uninvited Intruder by E.C. McCollum-Flanigan. It’s a heart wrenching tale of my grandaunt’s battle with multiple sclerosis. She does a good job of telling how this uninvited disease can negatively affect a normal person’s body. Although no one would fault her if she took a bitter tone in describing her trials and tribulations, she surprisingly presents her ordeals in a different light. She offers a message of hope for all those suffering from multiple sclerosis and other physical ailments – maintain your faith in God, continue to live to the best of your ability, and never let any horrendous, notorious, uninvited intruders spoil God’s greatest gift to you – your life.

Kunta's Story

Last week I started my read a book a week campaign. My first book is Alex Haley’s Roots: The Saga of an American Family. The book is a fictionalized account of his family’s history, starting with the story of Kunta Kinte, an African stolen from the Gambia and sold into American slavery. I’m about halfway done with this 688 page epic. Haley paints a perfect picture of the mental and physical brutality of slavery. You feel Kinte’s disgrace as he’s forcefully transported from the Gambia to Virginia. You share his hate as he stares into the eyes of the screaming Whites at the slave auction as they poke and prod his genitals as they declare him a proper stud for work and mating. You feel his pain as the leather whip cuts through his bare flesh, exposing his tender blood soaked muscles. You feel hopeless as he feels hopeless, knowing that he may never return home and knowing that he’s regarded as inconsequential property.

This book is a true American classic, published in thirty-seven languages, won the Pulitzer Prize and became a popular television miniseries in 1977, reaching a record-breaking 130 million viewers.