Musings on BAN: You Shoulda Chose Betta or Shots Fired at the Fuckery from a Tired Black Mama (if it don't apply, let it fly)

Who leaves their children to the wolves of the world to warm themselves?

Who terrorizes the mother: the only source of protection, guidance, provision, love for the children (cuz you refuse)- through their loud absence, weak presence and/or selfish manipulation?

Who holds the emotional, physical and physiological needs of their own children hostage?

Who won't even TRY? Play dead like a dog in hot weather?

Who chose not to heal, not to be accountable, not to be accessible in order to lead your own bloodline, your own legacy away from the fate you run from?

Spreading seeds like disregarded change in the trash. 

Coward.

Male not man:

You shoulda chose betta. Your children chose you. 

Karma and destruction pon DAT AZZ, BAN.

Musing 4.15.25 (reaction from a tb pic on sm 7.9.2018)

Felt pretty at one of the most difficult times of my life. It actually got worse than that. I always keep it moving! When you know you are loved by the most high, no one or thing can destroy you. At your lowest, you find out who you really are. Me? I am joyous! I stay in joy. I reek of joy. Abbey sings, "you could never lose a thing, if it belongs to you." May I never think my enemy is my friend. May I never be my own enemy. May my discernment be strong and my boundaries, stronger. Ase.

Musing 4.3.25: Velvet Villian Era

The Velvet Villian 

This is the best stage of my life, this is the best age I've been. Crones are powerful. The wisdom is the beauty now. I own every part of me. Yup, that too! I'm not fooled by the world. I have work to do.

Roberta 2.24.25

Thank you so much, Goddess Roberta Flack.

Thank you for Chapter Two. This exact part of the song sunk every single sad feeling I knew nothing about yet did as a little girl. I never gave this record back to my mother. Then I learned of your brilliance! Prodigy. Fearless One. Your magnificent voice! Your exceptional musicality! 

Your Excellence. Your Beauty. Your Blackness.Thank you, thank you, thank you. How blessed we are that you are ours! 

May you be received royally by the Ancestors.

Haiku: past time/ tryna stay in my body 1.10.25

chewed middle finger

anxiety masked as kink

head out the window

Musing: On Ornette 3.10.2020

Ooh what they said about Ornette! Some folk are self imposed closed; they can't hear. Improvised music gets the worst rap; I know cats that graduated from all the schools you deem acceptable, play every instrument, dance, paint, sing. Intellectual. Political. Sensitive. Positive. Negative. Recluses. Jerks. Humanitarians. Vixens. Have OCD. Best schools. Worse schools. Plenty money. No money. Good folk and the shady. Holding down family. Creating family. STILL WE MUST PLAY. Improvised music is that jolt. You can't do it if you don't speak several musical languages. You have to have an ear, a story, an arsenal from which to draw. Someone starts a musical conversation and everyone shares in. You have to listen. Like double dutch .The story starter gives you the map and we each give our take on it. Then someone switches the course, everybody has to switch, too. Sometimes the noise is silence or breath. Sometimes it's holding space. It's communal. It takes bravery to play this type of music. Most of us can do what you do but could you do what we do? It's not for everyone. I mean, who's open to getting that free? Like there's only one way to be? Who's rule is that? All sounds and vibrations matter. It ain't easy but it's breathtaking!

Musing: The birds and the trees 2.20.25

I strive for a heart centered, intuitively led life. I spend so much time listening, I can tell which birds visit in the morning (eventhough they cut down the tree outside my window: & yes- I yelled, questioned, cried). Spirit said they'll be other birds, other trees to comfort my journey. 

When I converse with others, the words ripple run pour stretch beyond my limitations to communicate what I truly feel. It's just easier on my spirit to listen and move.

The work is changing my ears. The work is training my ears. I listen between words. I listen between gestures. I listen to hold space. I listen to know when to hold space for myself. I'm grateful for this gift that has been fine tuned from trauma, grief, joy, love. I'm grateful for this walk, this life.