Da Future of Poetry

The crowd slowly filled the joint. Cafe De Tout was the perfect place with the perfect atmosphere. I watched the poets bless the mic and I even had a go at it myself. I was trying to decide which poet would be welcomed to the $10 dollars that I had in my purse. I had made up in my mind that I would just run to the bank if I had the urge to buy more than one CD.

I was sitting patiently waiting for the next poet to grab the mic and claim it as their own. I was sitting close to the stage, I had to arch my back and look up in order to see the poet. The host, Husbandman, introduced the last Headliner for the night and in a humble manner the Future of poetry emerged.

Beautiful locs twisted back into a ponytail, creamy rich chocolate skin and down to earth as he could ever be. He was cool...He begin to speak and my mind was made up. I wanted to understand the Future of Poetry...What it meant to live in his skin. That was my CD for the night.

I could barely wait to get home so that I could give all of my attention to him. Instead he demanded it and with no hesitation I gave it to him. A connected brother is he, connected to earth, God and society. I have to give respect where respect is due, a strong believer in the sustainer above, I respect that too. Who knew that this young cat born in 79 could bore knowledge and wisdom at his trying age.

Future I compliment you, with my head bowed.

Your heavenly father does believe that Jr. you are all right.

Grace and Peace

Bliss

What Happens In The Presence of Ignorance

Grace and Peace

I think...That the world may have stopped revolving on its axis for maybe one second. Maybe after I blinked or maybe after I took too long to think. My muscles tightened, my bottom lip bled and for the thousandth time in my life I was happy that I wasn't there.

Then the news came about him. I hadn't seen him in years... Since we had summer school together and he would fall asleep and chastise the teacher for waking him. He was funny and cool and humble - he was he.

My heart broke when the news came. The news came in the form of a phone call asking me if I had heard about it all. If I had heard about how a group of men had brought hell with them in the form of iron that held sweltering hot pellets that could pierce the body and leave it lifeless. I answered yes, I had heard about the senseless act and how the peace rally ended in death. I had heard about how there were jump houses on every street corner and even now I can hear how loudly the people were laughing. I almost died when the news came, about him.

In the presence of ignorance lay the seeds to our future. Every child no matter what age, is five years older, degrees bolder and has to deal with psychological damage that comes along with ignorance. In the presence of ignorance mothers and fathers, now has to buy one more playstation so that they can keep their children inside. In the presence of ignorance I see me, raising my clenched fist and striking knowledge into the domes of these young men. I see ignorance and replace it with self awareness, black pride and the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.

RIP - SG (May 29, 2006)

Grace and Peace

Like Riding A Bike

I suppose that I should've been there. Like many times before, I wished that I hadn't been so willing or so eager to go there. Sometimes it feels like going home, a place that I have been gone away from for entirely too long. I miss the presence of it, the touch of it and dearly the sense of comfort that it allows me to feel. I unwillingly admit that I love it, but I am at the same time and space afraid of it. I don't think that I want to love it after it crushed me.

I ask questions openly and without hesitation...I refuse to assume anything. Assuming got my ass kicked. Assuming put me in a place that I wish not to return to - but then the same scenario remains. If I don't try it again - then I won't ever feel the feeling again. The innocence is gone and I leave nothing to spare - my guards are up and these walls are brick.

It scares me when I don't know a person's motives. When a person has glue in-between the top and bottom lip. I get anxious and tired trying to read a person's eyes all the time or trying to guess what it is that actions are trying to display. It is okay to check the situation right where it is, grab the situation in the collar and scream into it's face. I can take it - stronger than ever now - place all the grimy details out on floor. Stomp on them, make love on them, scream over them - but leave none of them untouched.

It is too comfortable to be left alone...I know that when I was there, it felt easy. It felt like I had never left it, like it was mine, it fit over me perfectly, it was as stimulating as spoken word poetry and it filled me with major pleasures although minor in time and space.

It was like riding a bike - I remembered how to push off, how to balance myself, peddling was easy, turning was easy and riding was the thrill of my lifetime.

I guess I miss being there - although I am unsure, I don't know because no one is speaking.

Ultimately I guess I have to get use to not riding that bike. It was my friend(I THINK I MISS THAT THE MOST)

Ahhhh The Joy!

I decided to the visit the Ice House last night. To see if I had missed anything, if any poet was talking about something new and explosive to the mind. I wanted to see if any poet would set the stage on fire and light up the walls. I wanted to see how hot the mic would get, if the room would steam up and if the paint that lined the walls would melt like ice cubes in the mid-day. I wanted to see if any poet would get excited and clap their hands together, stump their feet on the wooden stage, if any poet would have to step back from the mic in order to catch their breath. I wanted to see if any poet would with their voice stop the world from spinning on its axis and cause the clouds to sleep on the bottom of earth. I had to know if anyone would understand the damn poet just once, if anyone would care to walk with them there, if anyone would stand in honor of the pain, love, dignity, sorrow that the poet was spitting. I wanted to know if some spittle perhaps landed on someones insides and simply caused them to break!

The joy of us poets almost getting there....the joy!

Show In August

Grace and Peace

I feel impelled to inform you all of the upcoming show:

Poetry of the Soul Poetry Festival
Sammy Davis Plaza (Lorenzi Park)
Saturday, August 19, 2006 at 7:00pm

I hope to see you all there. I unfortunately have to host, but its whateva! Come out and see some of Vegas' own, spit fire on the mic.

Now, I am truly tired of breaking this down fo' y'all. Here is how the poetry schedule goes for da summer so far:

2nd and 4th Saturday of month - Untamed Tongues at Cafe De Tout
3rd Friday - Poet's corner at West Las Vegas Arts Center
2nd and 4th Wednesday of month - Poetry at the Ice House Lounge

If there is a change in the schedule I will let you all know.

Grace and Peace

Looked Back and Saw You

Grace and Peace

My eyes are full with tears, not those that I have cried for the last past year, but tears that do nothing more but thank. Oprah's Legend's Ball crept into crevices of my heart that I had not dared to return to since...

I know now, more than I have ever known before. I am!

On This Day

Grace and Peace to my sisters Denise McNair, Cynthia Wesley, Carole Robertson and Addie Mae Collins!

On this day in 2002 Bobby Frank Cherry was convicted of murder in the 1963 church bombing that killed the four girls listed above.

They are, along with Emmitt Till, sacrificial lambs of the Civil Rights Movement. They are forever beautiful, forever living and forever treasured.

Bobby Frank Cherry, a demolitions expert and his other three comrades - Robert Chambliss, Thomas Blanton and Herman Cash decided to uproot a thriving black church. How easily our anger consumes us and eventually turns our bodies and minds into fire! An uncontrollable rage that can eventually plague the land that surrounds us.

To my sisters be victims of Bombingham no more! To my beautiful sisters who are forever young, be forever free!

To my sisters now - carry freedom on your heads, above your eyebrows, in between your you know where's and you know how's. Carry your light with dignity and pride. Go on with your loud, big mouth! In the name of the four little girls, whose lives engulfed the world - On this day be victims no more!

Don't Touch Nobody!

Grace and Peace

This seems to be a day when my patience is at its minimum. The next person who says something to me that my heart doesn't agree with, might find themselves in dire straights. See, I am trying to play that grown woman role...but these people are making things 'round here hard for a sister!

This must be Fuck wit Bliss day! Well, I ain't feeling this Holiday. I have been trying to play it cool, but the top of my head is on fire and I am about to blow up. This job shit, is not the business. I felt like cursing everyone out and then walk my happy ass out the door and knock some shit down on my way. I kept it cool though, my moma taught me how to act in public. See, Moma told me to act my age and not my color.

But, I am begging these people not to take me there. Tonight when I go home to my resting place, I will be calm and lay my head. I will surround myself in candlelight, make a personal cup of Chai Tea, let my soul write for me, let miles play for me and a screening of The Color Purple might be in order.

I will forget the hardening, trying day and be at peace

That is all that matters, right?

Movin On Up!

Okay, just when I think that it was time for me to breathe, my Sustainer says no...Keep it pushin.

I have a strong notion that says, I will be on my break longer than I expected. I have not been to the Ice House or Untamed Tongues or any other poetry joint for that matter. But, somehow poetry follows me and uses me to its advantage.

I must first share my good news and ask that all pray for me in my future endeavors. I have been asked by one of my professional teachers to try to get my short story published. The story is called "Tearing Down" - my mother says that it reminds her of our family. I guess sometimes you write things unconsciously - not knowing that in fact you are writing about you. So, I will be submitting my story soon. Pray for me!

Ahhhhhh...It sure felt good. Like watermelon on a hot sunny day or when your childhood friend finally stops being grown and comes out to play. Poetry I miss you! He asked that I speak at his wife's 40th birthday party. I was going to say no, but instead I said yes. My friend and I went there and we found ourselves surrounded by beautiful people in a beautiful place. Have you ever met people that were more into hugs than they were into handshaking. Immediately one feels like family...It was warm like that. We laughed, danced, sang, ate, and of course I had to poetry! (bad grammar,I know). I can honestly say, that it was the first time that I have performed and knew for sure that I would be getting paid. I had won the competition at the Ice House and was blessed with $500. I had performed with Kato at the Vocal Xpressions venue and was blessed with $100 and now as I was invited to perform at a birthday party I was blessed with $50. Thank you God, keep the blessings coming.

What Cha Gonna Do Now

Grace and Peace

Okay, so you allow yourself to be put out there like that. Only to find yourself ill treated and wishing that you had never done it. If only I could take it back, I would. I would it take back and hide it or tuck it away in a safe place. A place that only I could go to, hidden in deep crevices and that had a winding route. A would hide it in a place that would be hard for anyone to travel to, a road that they wished that hadn't journeyed to on their own.

Opening up is one thing and having that place-moment-feeling, shut down is another thing. I could swear that I didn't know the fire was that hot when I went and stuck my hand in it.

Just dumb I suppose?

Almost Like I Saw Before

Grace and Peace

I was surprised that I didn't let her upset me. It must be the passing years or "God " is doing what he do!

Have you ever seen someone turn their lips up so high that they are damn near touching the top of their head. I think that it must have been something like that...I laughed and said to myself, " she will never be satisfied." You know how some people can find fault in everything, every thing except themselves!

I have seen it so many times before that this time was no big difference for me. It didn't bring about any anger or turmoil in my heart. I finally realized that I can't help everyone and I sure can't please all the people that dwells inside my world. Everything that's for me ain't exactly for you and everything that my eyes can capture - your eyes will never see.

Everyday I come closer to finding the core on me, I can't let these zero possibilities implode themselves on me. I'm digging that!

See Bliss Run, See Bliss Dance, See Bliss Poet, See Bliss Break!

Remember

I do remember what he said, "Never go into a house that doesn't have a path way leading to its front door."

I came upon a house like that today and I finally understood what he meant. It was something erie about that place. Something about that place didn't sit too well in my stomach. I wanted to turn away, but it held me captive. There in its presence I felt like re-defining who I was and where I belonged. I never want to enter a place where there is no sign of welcome. This house sat far back from the road - there was no welcome mat, no wind-chimes, no flowers growing and no God in that place. A discouraging place if you were to ask me.

A place like that almost seems lonesome - almost like, there you are staring back at you. It made me feel uneasy - I wonder if that's how people feel around me.

While looking at the dirt that covered what could have been a pathway, I wanted to run - almost like it was following me. It made me think more and more about myself, like I was looking at a picture of me. This house couldn't be a mirror image of me, right?

He said, "Well, you never know which way you should go. Because there is no path you see - hell, you could come in any way you please. To me, that's no way to enter anyone's house. The path should be laid out for you. No need in you coming into my house sideways, if the path don't say so. Shit, people likely come in your house through your ceiling if they please - I mean, why not - it ain't like you told them which way to come. That don't make no sense anyhow, should always be something welcoming folks into your place, always."

Yeah, its clear to me now. I remember!

Love and all of the acquainted Bullshit

My journey proves to be even more exhausting than I thought. I have recently had to turn down offers to perform that I would have normally jumped at. Not to mention that finals week starts on Monday and the professional teachers are really laying it on thick. I am so ready to graduate that I can feel the sensation of the ceremony in every second of my day. First, I must get through summer school and the agonizing months of the fall semester and then I will be free like Shelley's Sky Lark, only to find myself in Atlanta lost in the hallways of Clark.

The spirit of love is passing through me - the need for it, longing for it. Ultimately I miss it and wish that I had it on my fingertips like syrup for me to lick. I think that what is more overwhelming than anything is the fact that I know that every night I will be going home only to find me. Only to peek at everything that is me, and be encumbered by it. Where is he? How come he is not there when I open the door? Why isn't he asking me about my day and if this morning when I arose did I pray? Why isn't he rubbing my feet and scratching my head - so that the heaviness of my day could go away?

So now comes the bullshit...creeping, seeping, leaking through my atmosphere. Making it all foggy up in here, making the air thin and the notion of frustration live again. I thought that I was over it, thought that I had lived past it and was able to look back at it and smile at it. I thought wrong - I didn't realize that I was not completely over it, I was living in it and not past it and I couldn't even look back, let alone look back and smile at it. The incident was still all over my teeth like this afternoons lunch. My triumph, however, is that I was able to recognize it, see it standing there and pay it no attention. LIVE, GIRL, LIVE! To summarize it, I had let "him" come in and turn my world upside a damn wall - then like it was nothing to me, I let it and him go. Here I am back at square one, this time licking on a loli-pop.

Birth of The Cool

I have discovered Miles! Miles Davis...That brotha is beyond cool, beyond dynamic, beyond innovative! He opens me and takes me on a journey through universal translation. His music is enough to open up healed wounds and declare that they are still alive and still there. I envy his power of transformation and the fact that no one piece of work sounds the same.

During my study time I take a break and let Miles take me to where-ever it is that he is going. I let him take me by the hand and guide me through ghetto streets and smelly coffee shops and the faces of ugly women that he dare not look at. I see him- yeah, I see him playing on top of buildings and beside trees. I see him, while stating, performing, living my poetry. He is every poem in motion, he brings alive everything that is still. Miles, my man Miles is real!