St. Louis stand UP!!

I got mad respect for ALL the hustlers out there especially those hailing from St. Louis, MO. Its a beautiful thing to see my chicas doing thangs from Stl. Much love.

Tiffany Fox- Jelly Beans

Random Thought about my writing

What does it mean?

When money don’t mean much.

When fame is unwanted.

What does it then mean?

Would our all still reside within any of our work if there was no promise of riches? How does this change the attitude towards our artwork. Everything is not up for sale. Some things should stand unobserved by a scrutinizing eye. No price guns ready to label our hearts and sale our dreams. Are we the auctioners of our own damn dreams? Where do our dreams and hopes reside? If the place is within our hearts…then these aspirations are sacred. My, have I violated the sacredness of my art. It has turned on me so to speak…rephrased it is I who have turned on it. What does it mean to write with intent? What does it mean to have intent in everything you do? From taking a shit down to composing the most beautiful piece of work ever. Its hard to get this back. Writing from a place so deep within your heart. Its as if the words were already there from lifetimes ago. I told myself stories. Perhaps stories that resides within me. The stories of my ancestors who live within me. The stories of all of the spirits travels. I need to take a different approach to writing. Desperately.

Continuance

She was afraid to continue. Her hopes were so inflated that the fear of falling frightened her. To fall from such heights would ensure certain death.

She longed to continue. Even though her heart pounded with this longing…her body would not allow her to move.

Frozen.

In.

Fear.

Unaware of time. She waited for that moment. The moment when she would regain her strength, take a strong step forward.

And fly.

So many expectations clouded her mind. She measured herself up to different entities. Her essence couldn’t truly be felt because of this.

This constant…her essence wanted desperately to ground her.

To show her the strength she had been searching for had been within all along

Change of pace right quick

This is pure audio dope...

Directions from a Lost Girl

Now...y'all should be GRATEFUL...I'm releasing some good shit. lol But seriously I'm an artist. I pour my soul into my work so like Ms. Badu stated, I'm sensitive about my ish. Enjoy tho...


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I was a black girl lost. Not your average black girl though. Not the video black girls with long wavy hair and bright skin. I was that blue black, permed hair and fresh weave type of girl.

I was a black girl scared. The world didn’t like me very much. My sun-kissed complexion was mistaken for a smooch of death. I was avoided and smacked with sayings: Damn you fine to be so black! My difference threatened to exclude me from all things pleasurable…that scared the shit out of me.

I was a black girl misguided. I tied my stomach in knots as I gazed upon my deep plum colored skin in disgust. Slipping ‘Michael Jackson Pills’ under my tongue hoping that as it dissolved so would the Black Death that plagued my skin and so would the frowns of the world, changing them into praise and approval. Instead of hatred and repulsion.

I was a black girl hurting. You know, it’s hard for dark skin girls to look pretty. I smiled at this comment as my heart and self-esteem shattered into pieces.

We usually only use light skin girls in videos because it’s hard to see the expression of darker skin girls…A knife jabbed into an already open wound and twisted from side to side. I was numb to the pain it all began to sound the same…

Yellow Bone long haired star…Yellow Model Chick…I like ‘em long haired thick red bone…And my bitch a mutt too…Yellow…Yellow…Yellow…NOT YOU…NOT YOU…

We would love to put you at the front desk but…but we fear you might scare people off…Even organizations directed towards me, NAACP, feared my complexion. Shoving me in the back, grins plastered across their faces with fables of good intentions falling from their lips. I reminded them too much of a continent long forgotten.

I was a black girl too far gone. ‘Scientific’ studies exclaiming I be the ugliest woman alive. The darker I be the further I get from femininity? Dark skin, only right for our men. I believed it more everyday. The mirror turned on me and began to chant names the world had taught it…Monkey…Too damn Black…If only you were lighter…You so pretty but too dark for me… I started to seek ways to make the pain subside and quiet the reflection I no longer could recognize.

I was the shell of a black girl. Pain echoed and bounced around in my head like the resounding sounds of gunshots. Each pop let off ripped through me spilling out the remainder of my sanity. Dreams of looking in the mirror and seeing flowing hair and porcelain skin. Waking up to the nightmare of being not only black, but a dark skin black woman. I would rather stay sleep.

I was a black girl broken. Empty pill bottles and flashing lights three times in my life. Drifting off to the dream state where I could be the porcelain skin, flowing haired girl in the mirror. I was yanked back by paramedics and loud sobs. My eyes would flutter open, the sun too bright. Everything was out of focus. My worst enemy staring into my eyes. My loved ones holding a mirror up to me asking…what do I see? I did not know.

I am a black girl searching. Comfort within my skin seemed the hardest to obtain when my world always tell me I’m just a black stain. The saying, Beautiful Black Woman had an asterisk that leads you to examples of Kims and Roses. This left me feeling like a withered flower, not worthy of adoration. Born in Babylon both dark and woman who else did I see to be…?

What do you see? What do you see?

I took directions from a lost girl. She was not amused by my abasement. She related to the pain in my eyes. The only one that could identify with my torment inside was the one I couldn’t bear to look in the face. She threatened to ask me questions I couldn’t answer. What do you see? My reflection became clearer. I attempted to wipe off the hateful names it had learned. Some came off right away, others left streaks and remnants. She whispered I know you very well.

The lost girl reflected became more familiar every day. Her abysmal affection drained the grotesque puss of self-hatred and doubt from my abscessed heart.

Stains still on my mirror.

Dreams still haunt me.

But love overflows from the mirror to my heart and directs me.

I am a black girl searching.

I am a black girl healing.

You may notice the vibe of my poems have changed. This is because the vibe of me has changed. I've began to explore different aspects of my spirituality. I'm beginning to explore a concept of African spirituality that contends we are aspects of "god", "creator" or "divine energy" and everything we need to save ourselves resides within. In other words, we are 'gods'. Even though I see myself as having 'god essence' within I still acknowledge the source...the one creator. This is an interesting subject I encourage those who have questions about god, religion and spirituality to do a lil research on this concept. And for those who don't agree with this concept I encourage you also to do some research or ask me any questions in the comment section! I consider myself a open and cool dude so no sincere (notice I said sincere...I'm cool but if you decide to get ignant...I'll oblige you and do the same! :D) question is off limits!

Peace and Progress.

-Asata Rashidi Chike Asani

Awaken

The tingling starts igniting the power

It threatens to consume me.

It pulsates against my palms.

Through my groin.

Up into my breast

And bursts out of my heart in a fiery fashion

My heart beat pounds in a rhythmic nature

Crashing against my chest the waves

Of my emotions are thrown outward

And drowns the world

In sweet bliss.

Untitled

My pain runs deep…

Like the river.

It threatens to drown me.

Heart shattered to pieces.

Like the mirror.

The shards lay around me.

The water and glass reflect a face

It scars me.

Eyes jet black

No white in sight.

Like the deep abyss of the galaxies above

My pain knows no ending.

My growth becomes more familiar with the concept

Of forever because

My pain runs deep…

Like the river.

If you haven't noticed...I'm not consistent...AT ALL. Hell, I'm OK with this.
:D
 I thank those who bare with me. My appreciation is infinite. SOOO...here are some poems for you.

I am washed in the blood…of my ancestors.

Jesus and I never got to know each other.

I was told that if I accepted his word that

My heart may be cleansed.

That Jesus could relay my word to God.

As if I was not worthy of speaking with God on my own.

*as usual..the poem belongs to Asata Asani but feel free to share as long as you acknowledge the source.*

Untitled Series

So I decided to start writing a series for the summer. Sort of Action/Fantasy/Adventure type. My goal is to get out a new piece every Tuesday (but I wont make any promises!). Its untitled so far. But here ya go! 

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 Ep.1: Self Defeating.

The day was unusual. It was bright and the sun was beaming down on our foreheads. Sweat beads started to form on our hair lines. We aint care. We came to do a job and dammit it would get done. I crouched down and began to twirl my fingers around in the dirt between my feet.

I’m going to kill her. She gotta die.

Thoughts running through my mind faster than Hussein Bolt. He patted my shoulder to make sure I was still focused.

Don’t get distracted.

His eyes were intense as his gaze pierced mine. Without moving his lips I felt his thoughts.

Don’t let the rage carry you away. Remember what you came for.

I looked away. His gaze too mesmerizing. Hypnotizing almost.

Ok.

We remained silent. Waiting. Nothing moved around us. It was as if nature herself was standing still waiting on our target. Anticipating the kill almost as much as me.

Something moved.

I flopped onto my belly and stared in the direction of the movement. He looked me in my eyes.

Let your spirit guide you to the kill. If it is not the spirit that leads you…you cant be resurrected.

I was annoyed. I knew this already.

I sense your anger growing…don’t-

He was talking again. I couldn’t take it. Calling myself an impatient hothead would be a little too generous. I leapt out for the kill. My target was not taken off guard but whirled around and smiled as if she was excited to see me. Anticipating my arrival just as much as I was anticipating hers.

GET BACK. SHE WILL KILL YOU. YOU LET THE ANGER LEAD!

He was yelling at me now. His thoughts forced into my head and became louder than my own. My heart was started to pound. I could feel my spirit whirling around in me as if it was trying to separate itself from my body. I threw a punch. She caught it. My arm was twisted into an awkwardly painful position. I looked her in the eyes and my own begin to well up with tears of pain. I heard him rising from the bushes. He was chanting. He was able to use his mouth in this realm. I was not yet that advanced.

I told you let your spirit lead, Angela.

His eyes were dark. Completely black with no whites showing. I fell to my knees and opened my mouth to let out a silent scream. She began laughing.

Angela…did you really think you could kill me? I CONTROL YOU GIRL. I am you after all…

She was right. She was me. A part of me that needed to die. I was the only one who could kill her completely. All others could only subdue her. I closed my eyes momentarily and accepted defeat. He moved out of the bushes followed by a flash of light. I could feel her becoming nervous. We were connected. But no fear ran through her heart. Mine was overflowing with fear. He disappeared from our sight then reappeared in front of us. Panic is what we felt. She let me go. I collapsed to the floor and scurried to get the hell out of the way. She attempted to run back from whence she came…he was too quick.

            His mouth moved but I couldn’t hear in this realm. His hand stiff, his fingers close together and straight he jabbed forward landing a solid blow to her chest. Her heart. Our heart. Original home of our consciousness. His straightened fingers looked as if they were penetrating her chest; trying to grab our heart like a fatality move. We began to breathe heavily. She stumbled backwards moving her mouth shouting words I couldn’t hear. He turned away and calmly walked toward me grimacing.

You have a lot to learn, Angie.

I dropped my head. Eyebrows furrowed. Face twisted. I felt weak. I looked up to see him hovering over me.

Its Angela. I hate that name, Angie.

He laughed at me. This pissed me off even more.

Lets get out of here before she comes back…Angie.

Tears were burning my eyes and the lump in my throat threatened to choke me. I thought I had her this time. I wanted to prove him wrong. He placed his large, coal colored hand on my shoulder. A blinding white light filled my vision followed by complete darkness. He was taking me back. I could here his voice.

Angie…your spirit and nothing else must led you. You must elevate your spirit. You are not ready. Sorry.

Morning Motivation

With everything going on in the world its so easy to think..."What can I do? What difference can I really make?" I'm guilty of thinking like this. But this video gives me motivation when these thoughts take over...

Random Fact: There are over 350 different species of Hummingbirds!

Assata Shakur Bounty Raised

So I'm sure you all know that Jay-Z and Beyonce took a trip to Cuba...that was EVERYWHERE in the damn news.

But do you know that the FBI raised the bounty on Assata Shakur's head who is currently in Cuba? Hmmmm...whats that you say? You didn't know that? I guess you didn't know that they put her on the most wanted list as a TERRORIST. Now the debate must occur...was she a terrorist or a victim of terrorism? Don't be spoon fed. Get the facts yourself.

http://www.assatashakur.org/resources.htm

Here's a link to Ms. Shakur's website. Check it out! Get Informed!

Morning Thoughts...

Ever wake up and the first thing you can ask yourself is what for? If this question never comes to mind, I salute you! For those that have no clue as to what I'm talking about...let me explain.

This question is exactly how it sounds...you ask yourself what is this all for? Am I fulfilling my true purpose in life? Sometimes its easy to get  caught up in what we think we are suppose to be doing and overlook what it is that we really want to do. With a million and one people attempting to direct your life on top of media influence (I wont dwell on this subject...that's another post) what makes us happy can be drowned out by what makes us money, what makes us look good, what makes everyone around us happy...you get it now?

So the question is asked again...What is it all for? I don't quite have the answer to this question. In fact I'm far from answering it (hence Directions from a LOST girl...). But I do know this is a question that we all should be fervently attempting to answer. It may take a lifetime to get the complete reply from the universe...but the search should never stop!

If that got you thinking (which I hope it did!!) here's a video from a spiritual and overall amazing woman, Sister Nubia. If you like this there's more on her channel! Subscribe and Support! She also does one on one consultation for those interested.

Took a hiatus from writing but I'm back now! Me and writing have a strange relationship. Sometimes I'm all on it...other times I fall off and I mean fall off for months at a time. Sometimes I'm in love with what I write...other times I can never seem to get out what it is a want to say.

Writing is like an emotional roller coaster for me. Sounds strange, I know but that's the only way I can describe my feelings towards it. At times writing brings me joy, during these times its nothing else I can think of doing that I would get more pleasure from than writing (well...very few things would bring more pleasure.. :D ). Other times its as if someone has sentenced me to death at the gallows and I would rather go hide in a hole somewhere than write.

I not feeling either way right now. I don't dread composing...but its not exactly orgasmic. Its safe to say that right now I view my writing as evolving (if that makes sense to you...my writers out there can dig it). Where as in the past my writing was governed by these two feelings... I dread it or I'm consumed by it. At this time I'm attempting to seek out a balance.

This balance will allow me to write even though I don't particularly feel like it...or stop even though I'm completely wrapped up in what I'm putting down.

I'm excited to grow and change with my writing. After all...the only thing guaranteed in life is change.

Peace, Love and Progress!

-Asata