NiggerNot

NiggerNot - because I am Not a Nigger!

Love

Bliss

Did the NiggerNot rule pass?

Young Boi says: You can be my Nig, My Nigga, The Nig, The Big Nigga, The Nica, The Head Nigga...but I can not be a "Nigger"

because a Nigger...I am not.

Old Boi says: Well...lets think about the derivative of the word. If Nig, Nica and Nigga came from Nigger; is it all the same?

Young Boi says: Naw...it ain't the same. Black people are creative people and see what we have done is take the word twist it and cultivate it and made it our own. Much like we do with many words.

Old Boi says: I hear that and I can dig that. But, brotha...Do you understand how much more powerful you can be if wouldn't let this society have such a hold on your mind. See, cuz whether you know it or not...that word use to be insulting to your ancestors and they fought...so you didn't have to live with being called a "Nigger"

Young Boi says: Ain't nobody calling me a "NIGGER"! It i s different when the homie calls me his Nig, that mean he love me and I am his boi. When a white person call you a "Nigger", then they are acting like their ancestors and trying to insult me as a person. I ain't nobody's "Nigger"

Old Boi says: Well...if you ain't a "Nigger" then who...are...you?

Young Boi says: I am a man. I am who my name says I am!

Old Boi says: Is your name Nig, Nigga or Nica?

Young Boi says: No

Old Boi says: Then you ain't nobody's Nigga, Nig or Nica. How do you love dat?

Things are Good!

For a lack of better words: Things are Good!

The last poetry reading of the year was about as empty as a bottle of OLD E in an alcoholic's hand, however; he was there.

There


I made a mistake and kissed him on his lips
He kissed back, There and then later on There
It was a mistake, right...right...now I write.

The last poetry reading of the year was about as empty as bottle of OLD E in an alcoholic's hand, however; he was there.

Watching me, eyes placed intently on me
He likes me now and wants me to be his...
He kissed back, There and then later on There
I think that it was a mistake, right...it had to be, right...now I write.

BULLSHIT POST

Grace and Peace

I could possibly be losing my mind. I have been at work all the DAMN day and I have a sick friend to tend to when I get off. On top of everything that I am going through this Holiday season, I have to sit at work and listen to wanna be coaches argue over the DAMN Biddy Ball League.

If you ask me...only if you were asking me...I think that all of the DAMN coaches are trying to live through these 5,6, and 7 year olds. It is suppose to be a recreational league for the small babies to learn the game...they make it so much more than that.

Ooohhhhhhh...I was so upset this weekend..it was some bullshit!

My car got broken into and they stole all my damn CDs.
I opened up for Toni, Tone, Tony. That was some Bullshit!

On the up and up...

Me and Rodzilla, finally got the chance to perform on the same platform. It was fire! Blessings to my brothers. Love to you Rod. Be @ Peace brotha!

Okay, I am through

Bliss

Praises Are In Order

Through him...that stengthens me. I have faith and guess what? I believe that he will do, what he said he will do.

Praise His Name.

Thank Him

Photography

I use to take pictures.
Thought that one day I would really be good at it.
Thought that somehow God had given me an eye for it.
I use to take it everywhere with me.
It was always there hanging on my shoulder.
Riding in the back seat.
Laying on the counter.
Sleeping in its nest.
I saw beauty in the Chicago Lake front.
I saw beauty in the Utah mountains that covered the football field.
There was something special about the light brown blades of grass that covered City View.
Then...of course there was us.
He was there in every instance and every moving moment.
I snapped him, just like I wanted to snap a butterfly resting its wings and catching its breath.
I loved to look at him from behind the lens.
I could put every square inch of him into a small little box and seal it and preserve it.

I don't take pictures anymore.

Bliss

What I have been working on...

My blog suffers because of school, work and this:


There was something about truth and time, something left wandering around on my insides or taking a hours sleep on the tip of my tongue. Knocking over the less important and then, there standing in a place, created by its ownself. Somehow, I always seem to get the two mixed up...time and truth-their significance becomes tangled and one of them eventually rots. A soothing rot, bound with pleasure and wrapped in strong leaves and vines. I miss home and that, yes, that is my truth. Where times belongs at this time, is a question I dare not know the answer to. It may be skipping over beats or hanging on to the end of poetical stanzas. I may have left it vibing in the venue or sleeping on the church pew. I know that my true truth is that I, yes I, miss home.

I think that maybe it will be there when I walk in the door and there will be a surprise for me. A great surprise...something like a Christmas tree in July heat or a fresh garden planted in the middle of my living spaces. Where will time go then? Crouching deep below the frozen ice of its own damning time. Because even in time, time loses time.

I used to get upset with him when he would label me a clock watcher, the keeper of time or the counter. Now he doesn't say anything, he reads aloud in his study room with the door slowly creeping to an ajar position. He reads aloud to tune me out or to hear his ownself speak. I let loose the chains of time and he, well he is still driven by the foregoing tick tock of the clock.