A story-A myth
A fact or tureth
A memory-A thought
or just a dream all storys have a plot , aplace and a subject
A clue wow a lesson to learn for you or me
To teach others what not to be.
Let me say
As I begin
I am proud of the skin
That I am in
Be it caramel, mocha, chocolate, or black
Be we small, medium or large, tall skinny or fat
I am proud of my heritage
And “I am not giving my black back”
Not to the white man, nor the pale man
Not to anyone in fact
I won’t let anyone get me down, put me down, take away my self-esteem or push me around “I am not giving my black back”
Who has inspired you to persevere thus far
I’m inspired by my birthright
By my heritage
Above all Our God
As I have said When I began
I am proud of the skin that I am in
I won’t let prejudice or negativity hold me back
I am solid, strong, poised, focused and proud, always keeping self worth intact
I am not, I repeat I am not giving my black back
There are many ways
You can give it back
If you don’t hold to your values
Remain focus and intact
For Example:
Rising high, Persevering
You have become a star
Putting your past behind you
Hiding who you truly are
To satisfy a mission, On the road to stardom and fame
You gave up your black
For a recyclable paper check
With a stroke of a pen in hand
As you are molded, bent, twisted and spent
To the way of how they want you to be
That’s just another way in our modern day
To willingly give in to slavery
It’s one thing to be focused; yet things are not clear
It’s another to willingly give up, what is so precious and dear
The memories of you past
Family values your parents instilled
They are proud of where they came from, so why aren’t you
Can you feel their pain, can you see their tears
It is good to persevere
Just remember to keep your self worth and values intact
Don’t let anyone cloud your mind, or slow you down
Don’t let anyone hold you back
Without our leaders
And I don't mean
Politicians and warmongers
No, I'm talkin' 'bout
Guttenberg, Newton, Edison
Wright brothers and Ford
We'd all still be
Grunting in the woods
Sing to me, old lute,
Of mighty deeds by warriors old,
Who boldly fought,
And fear knew not,
Of Odin's children feasting wild
In darkness deep of ages past,
Sing to me of Asgard,
And the mighty Gods who dwelt therein,
Whose sons and daughters,
Fair and strong, sailed on ships
To distant lands unknown,
Sing how Thor, in countless times,
Hastely raced with ruthless rage,
Across the Bifrost Bridge
The spiteful giants for to slay,
Sing to me of treacherous Loky,
And the blood-stained fields at Ragnarok,
Where the Garm watch-dog madly crushed
Odin's hopes, Aesirs' dreams,
Tell me of that primal elm
Whence Emla, our mother came,
Through Odin's will,
In the night of immemorial times,
Sing to me of handsome Tyr, stout-hearted god,
whose dreadful sword his foes could not endure,
How his hand was lost in Fenris wolfe's heinous fangs,
Sing to me, Old lute,
From those antipodes where your song must be,
Sing to me and let me see, those visions
of the worlds you've been,
Now forever lost in dark of ages past.
lookin back outside the pain
hopin for my soul to gain
cursin all my worst regrets
wishin I could just forget.
on a joy ride for number one
why did I leave her why did I run
once again locked in time
out of the blues....
I hear her cryin in my mind.
chorus:
tellin tales beyond the tall
fightin visions I recall
on a toll road feeling weak
she's back there in front of me
I can't escape the blues I rhyme
when I hear her cryin in my mind.
when the night falls like purple ice
I hear a voice out of the sky
and as I pray for peace to grow
the same old words find me alone
I'm searchin for a place to hide
but will I reach it or will I die
once again locked in time
out of the blues...
I hear her cryin in my mind.
chorus rep:
when the lonely day appears
and streetlight beams disappear
I slide my guitar to my side
and hike the black-top burned inside
my heart's a prisoner doin double time
where am I goin what will I find
once again locked in time
out of the blues....
I hear her cryin in my mind
chorus rep:
Head down, hands in pockets, I walk slowly towards the water,
This was our place,
A place of refuge, a place of comfort,
But now it’s a place of reflection,
I come here to find my thoughts, sort them out,
Things somehow become clearer here,
More easily understood.
I remember times when we used to walk along the banks of the pond,
The sun at the right angle to send our shadows merging into one,
That’s how I thought it would be, always together, as one,
I really miss her sometimes, and not just when I visit this place,
Inside of me there is always a part thinking of her,
Wondering what she’s doing now wherever she is
I awake from my deep inner self-discussions to find myself walking the banks edge,
Arms out to the side, holding my balance,
But as I look to my right and into the water,
I see only my shadow, not the two that always used to be here,
When we would walk there, sometimes I would just stare at the back of her head,
Looking at her black hair shift from side to side as she strode,
The skin on her out stretched arms shining in the sun
We fell in once; the banks gave way to our weight and sent us into the pondweed and silt
It was a hot day and we both just got up laughed and splashed around in the murky depths.
A place of reflection, of remembrance,
I come here to see her again, not before me in the physical sense,
But to sit on the grassy hill towards the pond and see the two of us in my mind walking that banks edge,
As I sit and remember times gone, and begin to get depressed,
The sun warms my back, like Samantha putting her arms around me for comfort,
A tear falls upon my cheek, and I wipe it with my index finger,
Walk down to the ponds edge, and place it in the water,
A part of me to stay here with her, forever.
And as I do, I see my shadow again, once more,
The wind sends a ripple across the surface,
" The Trail Where They Cried"
a direct translation from Cherokee,
they had to endure so much pain,
suffered so much loss,
step back in time
for just a moment,
let your mind grasp this message
What happened to my people
was hardly what happened to the jews
but to us, it means the same,
death ...... and for what?
It is a story that is long
and may bore those with no heart
or soul capable of feeling true emotion.
Cherokees were not savages
despite what you see in the movies,
they were a tribe
not to hunt you down in the night
and cut your throat while taking your scalp.
A group of families that lived as one
sharing the hunting, cleaning and cooking
of meals, raising of children,
as well as the other chores that befall the normal family.
Their culture was not well understood,
my god they were wild people,
living off the land, painted faces,
drums and singing that sounded like crys of war.
Merely their way of expressing sorrow and pain,
as well as happiness and love,
dances that were festive in production and dress.
1830 the Congress of the United States passes
the "Indian Removal Act".... sorry folks,
we don't care that this was your land from the start,
we want it so you have to go.....that was the white mans way.
In one of the saddest moments in history,
men, women and children were forced from their land,
made to live in some makeshift forts,
minimal facilities and food,
while being forced to march a thousand miles.
About 4000 Cherokee died as a result of this
horrible and tragic event.
There is a legend I have heard
about called the Cherokee rose,
and I find it possible that such a thing might grow.
They say along the Trail of Tears,
there is a white rose that grows,
the white for the tears the mothers shed,
it has a gold center, gold for the land that was stolen,