Tag Archives: Religion

It Was You

Truth is deeper than answers.

Are you a whore?

A thief?

Or a product of a broken home where love was just an Imagination in the hands of a father’s Temptation to leave. 

His seeds now only watered by a Mother’s sweat and tears from years of having no Son to lift the burden of floods that have unearthed our ancestors graves. 

Slaves to a system of oppression that only finds us worthy in courts. Golden State or State Penitentiary. Different, or equal to bloodstained cotton that clothed Caramel children. 

Cacao beans are too bitter to taste, so we add milk and sugar in hopes that sweetness can erase the pain, dilute the hate. 

But I prefer my coffee black.

Black as the space between my roots and petals. A place that’s filled with unanswered questions, and suggestions of distant leaders whose spirits are still screaming for freedom. 

Why are we still chained? 

Why are we still caged?

And who swallowed the key?

It was you.

Yes.

You.

Now spit it out. 

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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.


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?


Beautiful

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Enemies all around, unaware of how they’ve injured me. But within resides a greater entity. In the world there are more additions than subtractions, trying to deter me from my mission. Like David, I’ve got the chance to kill, but I rather do His will. That’s why mercy is my answer, to the evil thats running rampant like cancer. They’re waiting for me to fall, but don’t they know that they’re beautiful?

Many times I have stumbled, journeying through this jungle. Resenting every rock, and storm that’s come my way. Until I realized it is You who creates all the paths that I take. Every scrape, every bruise, preparing me to be used. Every hurt, and barren desert, creating a thirst that can only be quenched by Living Water. For Dead Seas cant deliver enough lost scrolls to help find You. To my spirit you speak, with a voice so powerfully gentle, I find strength where I am weak. Though I fall, you remind me that I’m beautiful.

A love so unique, arms so outstretched, I have no choice but to run into Your chest. A grace so deep, faithfulness so wide, no matter where I turn it is within You that I reside. You’ve given clear vision to these eyes, that I may see my enemies, as You see me. Beautiful, so beautiful.

Flowers longing to be watered. Birds with dreams to fly. Weeping souls, desiring to live and not die. Children trapped in adult bodies, still broken from the pain of their youth. Misunderstood outcasts, wondering if they have a purpose, any use.

Oh God, if they only knew You. That in Your image they were molded, that their existence makes them chosen, to behold the Son that has risen, to cast out darkness, and remove us from this prison. To bring Truth to our hearts, that are so often deceived to believe that we have to work to receive the love of a self- sufficient Being.

Beautiful, yeah you, you’re beautiful.