Black bodies

Changing steps

We’ve been dancing
To our egos song
Forgetting the subtle
Beat of the soul
Trying to birth itself
Within our lives.
We’ve been deft
To the inner guidance
Taking a fragile stance
Ungrounded, stiff
Out of phase with the cosmic dance,
Living by chance
Without real ambition,
Without genuine plan of action.
It’s time to open our hearts
And read our soul’s chart
Our life’s map
It’s time to abandon ourselves
To divine planning,
Skillfully aligning
To new resolves
Willingly anchoring ourselves to source.

Days of Self

There are days
We crave for a bond
As strong as the atoms
Building our bones

There are days
We say we are enough
Though we miss a simple touch,
We play tough in a rough
Game of deep solitude.

There are days we dismiss
Our inner reality
Abandon our inner quest
To chase the illusions
Created by our inner mess
We choose the red pill
The chocolate cluster
The jar of peanut butter
Not to deal with deal with real

There are days we rip off
The bandaids off our wounds
Rewind time and swim painfully
In a far forgetten past
With no gain but the sake of whining
Feeling sorry, for ourselves.

There are days we snap off
Our self inflicted mysery
We take off to a different dream,
There are days we wake
To a different spirit
We spit out the poison
...

Black bodies

Don't get tricked by the doom
Day song to put asleep
Don't be fooled 
By the gloom 
Of a shining death

Open the tubes and watch
A single electron
Creating all the scenes
You see on the screen.

Remember the green
Path of peace at the center
Of ragging chaos.
Take a stool, sit 
On your rightful throne 
In the pool of time.

Remember who you are
Life needs you now
Cause just like the dark sun
Hiding beneath the projection,
​
Only black bodies
Can emit the full spectrum of light.

I will change tomorrow

It’s because yesterday
Said tomorrow
That today cries
And keeps begging.

The path to the African paradise
Is strewn with excessive egos
Of poorly fallen pharaohs
Or atrophied egos
Of culturally discolored nomads

The enchanters of the language
Sing unity and preach
A Swahili in vogue
In vague speeches
Drying tongues
On calls for action.

When the creative verb
Suffocates in tears
The colonizer of conscience
Strengthens the weapons
That take away from science

Necessity is mother
Of invention,
But the matriarchy of ideas
Is orphan of the rich sap
That waters the genius.
Creativity gets lost
In a virtual reality
In a parallel universe
Allegedly universal

How to create for Self
With the eyes of others?

Give me back my paradigm
Screams th...

Implode

We’ve been imploring

To higher powers in ever boring

Mass gatherings, tithing

Our freedom away, a penny at a time.

We’ve been saved

Yet still captive, still filling graves

We’ve been born again

Yet slowly dying from the many poisons

We call food or call faith

We found the “true god”, yet still dogs

In other people’s stories

Always the true something

Of someone else’s fake truth.

True Jews, true Israelites,

True Muslims, true Natives

What about our true self?

We’ve believed in everything but ourselves,

 None of it worked, now,

                                         Can we try collective healing?

  &...

You Pick

We’ve been winning and crying
Appealing to an inexistent
Compassion,
From the same forces
Plotting our annihilation.
We’ve been marching and praying
To solve problems,
Stemming from foreign concepts.
But
Are we taking the right steps?
Are we saying the right words?
Are they addressed to the right gods?

Once more,
We find ourselves
At the crossroad of destiny
Having to choose between competing
Realities, fighting
To impose their versions of the future;
Extremes opposed in all senses.
Tensed in all versus, hence no sitting on fences.

Take the bullet test

Are you problem-oriented
Or solution prone?
Are you thinking?
Or are you thought?
Are you dreaming?
Or are you dreamt?
Do you live your own reality?
Or watch reality being lived?
Do you know? or do you...

Food warrior now!

- We've been singing,
The ever ringing song
"The next generation will..."
Surrendering our will.
To the vagaries of time

In itself, there is nothing wrong
To look up to the future
Yet I want movement now
I am sick and tired
Of being sick and tired,
Outraged of still being outraged,
Riding the same emotional 
Roller coaster, over and over 
Wishing and praying
For a magical liberation.

Then

Take a look at my backyard
And see the colors of life
Glowing satisfaction.
Listen to the birds rejoicing,
Feel the peaceful call of nature.
Breathe the fresh oxygen
The green generates.
Plant some seed and breed
A resilience of every day.

Join the revolution
Take back your freedom to feed
And become a food warrior
Sing a different song
Sing...

River of Unity

What’s Ubuntu?
The child asked his grandfather 
That was sitting under a baobab tree
Chewing some cola nuts 
And sipping a brew of corn 
From his horn made cup.
“Sit with me” the elder replied 
Reaching his water supply 
To serve some to the child 
“To the ancestors !” they both poured 
Before taking a sip.

- Where does water come from? 
- From the river 
- And where does it go?
- Back to the river.
- You can always divide a drop 
Into smaller drops
They will always find each other
Back in the river.
Ubuntu is what happens when people
Remember where they come from,
And know where they are going.
Like bees following each other’s pheromones
Back to the beehive, back to the queen,
They seek each other peacefully,
They seek ...

Running circles, time loops and black holes

In the complaining department

Everything is quick and loud

Fast, fuming and furious

Fast thinking, fast packaging

Fast polishing and fast shipping

When arguments are contradicted

Everything is fast editing

No apologizing, fast-changing

Fast repackaging and teletransporting

The culprits are instantaneously identified,

White supremacists and punkified s

Brainwashed whitewashed self-haters

Traitors and sellouts of all kinds

It’s the musicians, rappers, and thugs, 

Degrading queens and promoting self-hate

It’s pastors, their religion and crooked faith

It’s always the politicians, the damn government.

In the solution department,

Everything is doubting, questioning

Everything is more complaining

Can we really do this can we really do that?

Mami Wata

If you love yourself, she loves

You, If you hate yourself, she hates you

Spirit of the water memory

She reflects back to the beings

Of water and shadow,

The image that they themselves project

On the flat and just surface

Of her multiform body.