A few of my fav "Ooooo Weeeee" it's almost Spring joints. These smoothed out melodic tracks instantly make me think about warm weather & good, good lovin'. Enjoy!
"I'm 'bout to handle my buisness."
"I feel like I’m on dope, 'cause you, you serve me on a regular."
"You're lovin' is so good, so good."
"Baby I feel free, come on & go with me."
"Aw baby when you come to me, I'll make it so you'll never leave."
"Every day is Christmas & every night is New Years Eve."
Friday Night We had a feast @ http://www.jacquesimoscafe.com/! Westpolo: Only @s_elem would find the whitest place in N O @Miss_Farrah @krm8585 @Stephicoco @AyMimizy @Mary_Luisa @bamagirlroll #jenn
"If you're not ready to die for it, put the word 'freedom' out of your vocabulary."
Here—at this final hour, in this quiet place—Harlem has come to bid farewell to one of its brightest hopes—extinguished now, and gone from us forever. For Harlem is where he worked and where he struggled and fought—his home of homes, where his heart was, and where his people are—and it is, therefore, most fitting that we meet once again—in Harlem—to share these last moments with him.
For Harlem has ever been gracious to those who have loved her, have fought for her and have defended her honor even to the death. It is not in the memory of man that this beleaguered, unfortunate, but nonetheless proud community has found a braver, more gallant young champion than this Afro-American who lies before us—unconquered still.
I say the word again, as he would want me to: Afro-American—Afro-American Malcolm, who was a master, was most meticulous in his use of words. Nobody knew better than he the power words have over minds of men.
Malcolm had stopped being a Negro years ago. It had become too small, too puny, too weak a word for him. Malcolm was bigger than that. Malcolm had become an Afro-American, and he wanted—so desperately—that we, that all his people, would become Afro-Americans, too.
There are those who will consider it their duty, as friends of the Negro people, to tell us to revile him, to flee, even from the presence of his memory, to save ourselves by writing him out of the history of our turbulent times.
Many will ask what Harlem finds to honor in this stormy, controversial and bold young captain—and we will smile. Many will say turn away—away from this man; for he is not a man but a demon, a monster, a subverter and an enemy of the black man—and we will smile. They will say that he is of hate—a fanatic, a racist—who can only bring evil to the cause for which you struggle! And we will answer and say to them:
Did you ever talk to Brother Malcolm? Did you ever touch him or have him smile at you? Did you ever really listen to him? Did he ever do a mean thing? Was he ever himself associated with violence or any public disturbance? For if you did, you would know him. And if you knew him, you would know why we must honor him: Malcolm was our manhood, our living, black manhood!
This was his meaning to his people. And, in honoring him, we honor the best in ourselves. Last year, from Africa, he wrote these words to a friend: My journey, he says, is almost ended, and I have a much broader scope than when I started out, which I believe will add new life and dimension to our struggle for freedom and honor and dignity in the States.
I am writing these things so that you will know for a fact the tremendous sympathy and support we have among the African States for our human rights struggle. The main thing is that we keep a united front wherein our most valuable time and energy will not be wasted fighting each other.
However we may have differed with him—or with each other about him and his value as a man—let his going from us serve only to bring us together, now.
Consigning these mortal remains to earth, the common mother of all, secure in the knowledge that what we place in the ground is no more now a man—but a seed—which, after the winter of our discontent, will come forth again to meet us.
And we will know him then for what he was and is—a prince—our own black shining prince!—who didn’t hesitate to die, because he loved us so.
- Ossie Davis, Eulogy of Malcolm X (February 27,1965)
Whenever you're faced with what you feel like you can't bare/ Call on me & I'll be beside you until the end/ Lift your head up & stand tall/ Promise I won't let you fall/ When you reach I will extend/ I'll be there.
- Tiffany Evans, I'll Be There <-- Huge fan of this song & video.
In reflection, as I grow older the more important it is that I surround myself with people that understand what it means to simply be there. It's a simple statement, but an extremely powerful action.
Flyy. Dope. 26. "Oh yes I love her like Egyptian, want a description, my royal highness."
Reflecting on my life's journey thus far…my faith resides in Jehovah-Jireh. My entire life is a testimony to my creator’s favor. I am loved fiercely by my family & friends. Ambitious & diligent. Spottieottiedopaliscious. Purposeful. A Delta Woman…Ahem, “What you said? She ain’t no Divaaaaaaaa?” (Beyonce’ voice). A Black intellectual, reader, writer. Womanist. I will always be Montre's "punkin'". A dancer (off beat). I am memorized by orange moons. Perfect date? Sharing his couch. My life's work? Everyday I bring the truth to the youth. I dig flyy jewelry & being an Aquarius. I am blunt, passionate & make no apologies for it. I still need my Granny's kisses & my mommy's encouragement. My daddy is my Farrakhan. No matter the situation I will always have something to walk away with…Ntozakhe (things that belong to her) that’s me. Akoma (the heart) & Ankhs are my beloved symbols ( love, life). I am Oya in the flesh; replenishing the earth. I need my soul música/ Afro-beat, poems,& wine. I believe that open skies, children smiles & red mountains are proof there is an omnipotent, supreme God (Gyname). Blessed to walk this earth with the spirit of El Hajj Malik El-Shabazz & Jewel Elem. Without a doubt my favorite feeling is ALIVE! Lately I've been thinking, it is custom that when you leave this earth everyone bring flowers in your memory, but how many people offer soup to keep you alive? Please keep your roses, give me soup.
Inspired by the revolution in Egypt. I wonder when will Black people stop being afraid to bleed & claim our communities. Our deplorable education system, black men gunned down, & young girls who have no sense of self-value are worth a revolution! We are a cowardly generation, scared of bloodshed. When it comes to a “real” Black revolution we should know no compromise. Read a book, those are OUR people in Egypt.
Time to save the world/ Where in the world is all the time/ So many things I still don't know/ So many times I've changed my mind/ Guess I was born to make mistakes/ But I ain't scared to take the weight/ So when I stumble off the path/ I know my heart will guide me back.
