Tag Archives: God

Reign

May they grow into a world where their Roots are praised, not shaved in hopes to eradicate the hate. 
May we conquer the steps of Freedom, that they may experience the depth of possessing breath without needing to raise arms in protection of their golden souls. 

Cause don’t the world know that it grooves to our Blues, while refusing clear skies? 

Dont the world know that we are the Sun, as it basks in our light? 

Eating the fruits of our labor, but offering no seat at the table.

May we reign, so that they may grow.


Blind

It must have pained them to see God manifested in black bodies. 

That these angels they chose to chain, were the Christ they claimed to praise.

 The vitality of these foreign souls. 

To be able to inhale: blood, maltreatment, slaughter 

and exhale: grace, perseverance, life. 

It must have pained them to see that the Sun would touch their skin, and choose to stay. 

That in spite of the lashes, their spines never gave way. 

It must pain them to see. So they keep them caged, clip their wings, and miseducate. 

It must pain them to see the dirt on their hands. And rather than wash them, they look away, continuing to claim ownership of blood-soaked land. 

Yet what is even more painful, you see, is our dependency on them, to set us free.


Dawn

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You’re the proof that angels are real.  Wings that not only shield, but inspire me to soar higher. I pray to attain shoulders as strong as yours, and a spirit that’s as humble.

Black, Woman.

In a world that dishonors its Mother, I’m in awe of your wonder. Thriving no matter where you’re planted, even in the most unfavorable conditions, you can’t be uprooted. Beautiful flower, your presence is a blessing I too often forget to thank the heavens for.

I couldn’t have asked God for a more glorious dawn.

Happy Mothers Day, Ma.

To: Wendi Nichols Gregory


Soul Atlas

I’m just trying to grow fruits to honor my roots. Ancestors were planted in different lands, molded by different hands. But the Truth stands, One Spirit resides within.

Some will make me an enemy, because I don’t choose friends. Peacemaker, no matter the skin shade, or religion, we were all crafted with precision. No ideology, it’s Love I’m following.

From Madagascar, to Scotland. America to Africa, slave owner to freedman, indigenous to explorer. The blood in my veins sees them as all the same. Different stories, binded in the same book, my looks are just the cover.

I had to search my soul to discover why I couldn’t choose a side. Genetically modified, the remains of my origins sleeps in different graves. Yet through me their spirit is awake. I am intricately sewn from different fabrics, so that they may finally exist in One Peace.


The Death of Western Christianity

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Christians Christians Christians. This post is a very good example of why Christianity is on the decline in America. It is not on the decline due to moral decay, nor due to people straying from the “straight and narrow.” It is on the decline because people have opened their eyes to the Colonial/Crusade/Pharisee-based indoctrination that Westernized Christianity is so diseased with. Christians will point to the bad seeds of a certain group of people, in an attempt to prove that Christians bear more fruit, and the only fruit. Yet it is clear that this is not the case. The reason that Christianity, or Catholicism, is so far spread throughout the world is due to posts like these. The propoganda that people of other cultures or religions are barbaric and need “saving.” It is what soothed the consciences of the slave traders, the crusaders, and the rest of the power hungry, bible thumping, land stealing Christians of the past and present. It’s a sad case of shining false light, for many Christians are sincere in their efforts, and are only doing what they see as best. Nevertheless, there has arrived a time that these Christians fear. The church, as we have seen it, is dying a slow, but needed death.

The current institution, that we falsely label the church, is having its tables turned over, because the true children of light are tired of the many robbers parading as pastors and popes. They are tired of graceless evangelists, who use fear-based conversion tactics, who preach a message of freedom, when they themselves are bound. If you want to truly be as Christ, then feed the poor, forgive someone, pray for your enemies, and uplift someone.

I will end on this note: When you go into a neighborhood, another country, or next door preaching of Jesus with your words, and promises of heaven, and that person rather not hear it, it is not Christ they are denying, it is Christians. As Gandhi stated, “I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”


Somewhere

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Somewhere we stopped fighting. The comfort of church pews makes one more complacent, mistaking stagnation for peace. Frederick Douglass said, “Once you learn to read you will forever be free,” yet we are still bound. Somewhere we put the books down, and picked up the remote, which is a moat preventing us from reaching our inner Kingdom. Somewhere we decided to conform, allowing greed, perms, and self-righteousness to become the norm. Glorifying the slaves that are loyal to their master, as they falsely rap about freedom with chains around their necks. Pridefully wearing blood-soaked diamonds stolen from their mothers hands. How dare you profit off the death of your own roots! Somewhere we stopped seeking knowledge. Work on the plantation long enough to send our kids to college. False history, deadly pharmaceutical industry, prison-industrial complex, laws that hold no true power. See these degrees ain’t nothing but a hex, inspiring you to climb the social ladder, only to realize that it declines. A world system that defines one as more valuable based off a piece of paper. Somewhere we stopped listening to our spirits, picked up religious indoctrination, which makes us fear God’s true voice when we actually hear it. Did our ancestors die in vain? Somewhere Martin Luther got traded in for hoop dreams, and Malcolm simply ceased to exist! Somewhere young women decided Sara Baartman’s enslavement was worth the payment, and five minutes of fame. Somewhere Willie Lynch succeeded, less melanin meant more heaven sent.

Somewhere we stopped believing in the deceit of these Europeans. Now when you kill one of us, we all start bleeding. Now is not the time to pull the wool back over your eyes. As Mr Heron stated, “The revolution will be live.” 400 years of genocide, it’s time the system died. The final hour has arrived, Ms. Hill, because we’re tired of them killing our prophets, Bobby. It’s time for the mental and physical liberation, Mr. Garvey.

All praises to the Most High, because somewhere.. We are free.


Free

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How far can you run before you make it to the edge?
Running from the lies,
Or is it by them I’m being led?
Close to the ledge.
Desiring to fly.
Scared.
Do these wings lack the strength to carry?
Such a heavy soul!
I shall never know what’s ahead.
There’s a voice in my spirit,
“Jump!”
Have I heard this voice before?
“Let the Wind be your strength, by faith you will soar.”
My heart weakly beats.
Am I falling,
or free?