Tuesday, January 18, 2011

A Prayer Before the Journey

God I know in all that I have going on in my personal life, You have a message for someone.  Be it for me or for whomever, I just want to make sure that the people I will inevitably reach, both consciously & indirectly, receive all that You have for them regardless of me. I want to take this time of  quiet & reflection, of writing & listening, of hearkening to Your voice, & tune into You & Your people.  Help me to see the need, give me the words that someone needs to hear.  I pray that my life contributes only in a vessel like manner & that You help me to use my experiences for Your glory & for Your work.  But  please do not allow me to be distracted by these experiences; make the things in my life a light & not a fog around the vision You have for these pieces I'm about to go in on.  Help me to release the issues of my life to You daily & in doing so, know that You have it all under control-- what You have for me is indeed for me.  When I am tempted to hide behind my words, help me to be transparent.  At the same time, remind me of my ego-- this is for Your glory only, not for my own personal benefit or gain outside of getting free.   I pray for understanding & for awareness.  Help me to see what You see in spite of my own reality & in doing so encourage others to do the same.  I pray for Your constant anointing as I embark on these two projects.  Speak through me.  Breathe through me.  I give myself away so You can use me.  Guide my hands, my heart & my mind.  I love you.
In Your Son's name I pray,

Friday, January 14, 2011

what i had learned today #2

so a friend of mine who will remain nameless instigated a learning spree today on the twidder, KNOWING that my attention deficit disorder in combination with my thirst, yeah i said it-- THIRST for knowledge would take me over the edge. & so here is what i had learned today on the topic of egyptian mythology & whatnot.
*in a series of tweets to said instigator & all who follow the kid. in the order in which they occurred. 

"thoth was often considered to be the heart & tongue of the sun god, ra." poets are the heart & tongue of the Son/God, Yah.

he was also scribe of the gods. #expletives. you make me learn kid. stop lol

ohhh myyyy geeez. & his wife is the concept of truth. efff.

"others say that Thoth created himself through the power of language." so... he SPOKE himself into existence... cool. #imHooked

"He is also the great counselor and the other gods frequently went to him for advice." #Thoth

"his totem animal is the baboon, a nocturnal animal that goes to sleep only after greeting the new day." #Thoth

"He was considered the heart and tongue of Ra as well as the means by which Ra's will was translated into speech." #Thoth

"He, too, was a measurer and [[recorder of time]], as was Seshat."#Thoth

all forms of writing + the measurement of time... that's what dude was responsible for. that's fuggin epic dawg. #Thoth

"After Isis gathered together the pieces of Osiris' dismembered body, he gave her the words to resurrect him so she could be impregnated...
"... and bring forth Horus." #Thoth

"Similar to God speaking the words to create the heavens and Earth in Judeo-Christian mythology, Thoth, being the god who always speaks...
"the words that fulfill the wishes of Ra, spoke the words that created the heavens and Earth in Egyptian mythology." #Thoth

"Thoth... was also considered to have been the scribe of the underworld..." ... a writer's life is a dark one. #kanyeshrug

the name thoth means "thought" & "time"


needless to say, i'm really feelin this dude here. i'll probably expound & whatnot later. 

Thursday, January 13, 2011

google Soren Kierkegaard

he was a Danish philosopher who understood us poets very well & is responsible for one of my favorite quotes:
[[A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say, "May new sufferings torment your soul."]] 
and also for this quote here:

"God is not like a human being; it is not important for God to have visible evidence so that he can see if his cause has been victorious or not; he sees in secret just as well. Moreover, it is so far from being the case that you should help God to learn anew that it is rather he who will help you to learn anew, so that you are weaned from the worldly point of view that insists on visible evidence. (...) A decision in the external sphere is what Christianity does not want; (...) rather it wants to test the individual’s faith."

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

What I Had l Learned #nStuff

mmk so if you don't already know, i'm a social work major. and last semester i had to take a class we call practice I. in this class we learned different skill & thangs to use when working one on one with clients to make them feel comfortable, to make breakthroughs, figure out exactly what they need/ what the problem is & so on & so forth yadda yadda yadda. so anyways, today was our first day in practice II & we were sittin around kickin it eatin animal crackers talking about what we learned/ realized in practice I & something kinda hit me.

i realized i had been using some of the skills somewhat unconsciously, even before i knew what they were. a couple in particular though-- containment & reaching into silences. when one on one with a client, containment is knowing how to conduct yourself should a client begin to cry or break down or anything like that. the heart of a social worker wants to immediately jump in with tissues & hug & wipe tears & things but in all actuality these actions could inhibit the person's breakthrough. a lot of times we want to come in & rescue when really the client just needs us to walk them through that time and actually allow them to break.

in and around this time we also practice reaching into silence. it's asking those still soft questions when it gets quiet. it is deciphering what those silences mean. it is looking for the things that are going unsaid. ain't a whole lot to say about this one lol but tact is very important, silence is something you really have to feel your way around because timing & they way you go about it is everything.

in all this reflection i realized that i had been doing these things before i even knew that they were actual social work skills. i used to do this to my friends all the time, i do it now, i did it last night. & i must say it's lowkey kinda cool because for me it's almost like confirmation that this is what i'm supposed. like this is what's already in me to be. it's crazy to think about it yo.

but yeah. i was just thinking about that today lol random epiphanies just come to me sometimes.

anywho. God is Love,
Rev Run

BOOM BYE YOW! whoop there it is

I wonder if they know how beautiful they are in this moment. Through the tears & heart ache & that angry hurt that only manifests itself in hot tears & cool words. When all of life is up against them, this is when they are most beautiful. When they band together in struggle it’s like a brilliant mosaic, a four way intersection of four women, 20 years of life behind them, God knows what ahead of them. All they have is each other, here and now in this moment. This is for my strengths. They guard my heart when the threat of loneliness comes to lay siege to my soul. They carry the weight of their individual worlds on their shoulders like atlas but when we’re together they still manage to shrug a little dirt off. my sisters. You have a way about you that makes me want to tell you everything. I have no line of defense strong enough to keep your love in check & I wouldn’t dare deploy it if I did. We are a paradox of hearts, you gird me up with this vulnerable vigor whenever our paths meet. It is phylicia rashad having coffee with michelle Obama. & asata shakur. It is a mary j & lauryn hill duet . it’s a little willow & sojourner. It is rosa parks & zora neale Hurston & nikki Giovanni & ntozake shange.  You are my colored girls. Who turned to loving each other when the world said our thick hair and thicker hips were insufficient and too much but never ever enough. Baby this is for you.

To my pookie. I did not know your cousin. but I saw a reflection of the phenomenal woman she was in your tears. & from what I could see there is so much of her in you still. Your heart is a vice grip, your love a strength that holds your family together. I know being a protector comes so easily but if ever you forget what it feels like to be the held instead of the holder, just come out of your room, hook a left and I’ll be asleep on your couch as usual. Come shake the ish outa me & tell me some story that I’ll laugh my hindparts off about simply because you are the one telling it to me. Pookie don’t you ever let nobody else speak for you. They just eff up the details & they’ll be nowhere near as passionate about your life as you are so keep that pedophile smile that goes perfectly with your kevin hart epiphanies & set up an evening fuh yaself… because you will always be my favorite story teller.

To my mojo.  I remember the day you called me crying. I prayed that morning would not catch you mourning this lost love, that the sun would not tease you & come up until you were ready to smile again. I prayed that what was to come would be better than what’s been. you kept telling me to go back to sleep. & I kept telling you no. when I told you I would be there whenever I meant it wholeheartedly. But as broken as you were at the time I could see why you thought I might leave so for the record, I’ll repeat myself. Whenever. You need anything. I will stop everything to be by your side.  & I wish I had some good ol country down home Monroe, LA metaphor to seal the deal but sadly I’m just not as cool as you so know this—any time you talmbout goin on a fugg shii up spree my nigga it’s nothing. Food stamps just rolled over today & between the four of us we got 5 jobs—we’ont have to take this shii!

To my boogie. The hardest part about having this music box heart of mine is trying to decide which melody to play. I’m not a musician but I have an ear for good music so when I hear you trying to force a smile from your heart I know something is off key in your life. Baby I promise you, it’s okay to break sometimes. See as far as people go, being broken doesn’t make you any less significant, it just means that maybe your heart’s wealth went unrealized in the past. I respect those cracks & crevices to be battle scars & lessons learned. So remember, whether or not you are worthy of this is not up to you to decipher. you will always be my byungajamonetalysiaharissjoshbennetninaruff poem. So keep these words in your heart in case you ever forget who you are & out of its abundance, let your mouth speak these things into being.

To you all. I pray that God redeems all the time & love, heart & light you ‘ve invested in those that never learned the rules of proper reciprocity & I’m overwhelmed with gratitude to Him for allowing me to be involved in the blessings that are your lives intertwined with mine. I’m sorry if you’ve ever caught me staring but there is an enigmatic splendor that burns through your skin& in an otherwise dull world filled with so many anchorless relations but no steadfast relationship, it’s kinda of hard to ignore. I’m sorry for every time I ever hugged you a little too long, a little too tight. I was just trying to reach inside of your heart & bring its desires to life. Let them take in their first breaths, see I have a naïve faith that just can’t seem to understand why soldiers like you shouldn’t have every good thing you deserve. So I’m sorry for those times, when my love was too hard or too heavy—I was just trying to love the hell out of your lives so forgive me if I have sinned. but I’m thinkin God might let me pass on this one.

So in conclusion, thank you. For letting me hold your tears and your hearts. Thank you. For bringing me in & reading me the stories of your lives reflected in those tears, the life in your blood. Thank you for being my lifelines. My sisters. Thank you for being love to me. & in doing so helping me believe in it again. 

Addendum: & to all those who have ever had a problem with my sisters, to those of who you got beef right now at this very moment or are even thinkin about startin drama for any reason… run & get done up kiddo. Step to my sisters in an unwholesome fashion & you will ever so cordially be invited to meet the dysfunctional part of me that still can’t figure out why the hell I’m in social work anyways. I swear that girl hates everybody. Idk about catching a grenade or anything, I’m too quick for that. But if you do happen to qualify for any of the above discrepancies I will gladly ensure that you catch these hands in a timely manner that is most appropriate & expeditiously convenient for both of us. Sincerely, management J

Saturday, January 8, 2011

tweets from @JazmineBEaPoet. all too true.

  1. *read them from the last one up, don't act like you ain't never twitStalked nobody & had to scroll down to the beginning of the rant/ quote/ conversation#OkGoJazmineBEaPoet A nod and a smile will suffice. Save us both from awkward conformist conversation. Keep on walking. It's cool..
  2. Jazmine WilliamsJazmineBEaPoet Turn around and say "terrible. My mom is sick, I don't know how I'll pay the rent, and my man just left me." And watch them run.
  3. Jazmine WilliamsJazmineBEaPoet They want/expect you to answer with "I'm great, and yourself?" Not due to accuracy. But consistency.
  4. Jazmine WilliamsJazmineBEaPoet Bgklbndf! I hate that "how are you?" Is a universal conversation starter. People don't REALLY care about the answer.
  5. Jazmine WilliamsJazmineBEaPoet "How are you?" -- Eh. If breathing qualifies me as blessed.. then you can consider me that.

Friday, January 7, 2011

a BEASTLY excerpt from "The Third Translation"

"Egyptians believed that words themselves were gods, that they had a power in their existence beyond this world.  To give utterance to a word was to make it real.  To put words down was to preserve them for all eternity.  Priest would often pour water over certain inscribed symbols &  prayers & then drink the water or drip it over their bodies.  That way, they could actually ingest or be covered in the protection of the words, their gods."

Thursday, January 6, 2011

what it means to be a poet. my God...

i couldn't have said it better myself.

about that last poem...

the last couple weeks i been thinking about a few things real heavy like.
the first being the different things a few of my close friends are going through.
the second being the role of the rescuer & the comforter.
the third being the fact that, as christians, we are called to be peacemakers.
& all these things contributed to that poem. along with the movie "love jones" lol

1] i got a few friends that are going through/ have gone through a ridiculous load of life both recently & in the last semester period.  of course these things weigh heavy on my mind. daily. i got a love for the homies like no other so as corny as it sounds, their pain is mine. people think they know me in my writing, and to a degree they do but a lot of times i write for my friends. whether i know it or not, my friends are more apart of me than i realize so i sometimes have a tendency to tell their stories as well.

2] from random realization #2094: "sometimes i get so wrapped up in fixing things that i confuse trying to be a good friend with trying to be God. i forget that sometimes the actual rescue isn't my job per say, sometimes i'm just the one that swims out to you & waits with you until the rescue chopper comes. sits & comforts you. distracts you from your current situation if need be. the peacemaker. i can't do much as far as removing you from the predicament you're in but i promise i won't leave you alone. promise i won't leave you to fight on your own."
am i at fault to think that the role of comforter/ peacemaker may be just as important as the rescuer themselves? a while ago i learned to stop asking God to remove obstacles, to take me out of situations just because they weren't favorable to me especially considering i more often than not put myself in said predicament to begin with. as a writer i've become so willing to put myself out there naked because i know from experience that sometimes all it takes is to know that someone else is there with you, to know you're not alone... that can make all the difference in survival. there is rescue. and there is survival. i'd rather be a survivor than a victim any day. 

3] there's a spot in the bible that says blessed are the peacemakers. i've talked about it recently; it just really keeps resonating with me in the situations my friends and i face. i want there to be peace wherever i am, not for any boosting of my own but because of the God in me. it's His peace. and as a comforter, not rescuer, peace is vital. i pray for it daily & always find some of my own in interceding for others. 

mm k. so whatever else i was thinking, i lost it lol so hey
God is Love,
Rev Run :)

a distraction

Can I play you something?

I know you don’t have time, though, you’ve got a million other things to do that you consider far better, more productive undertakings
more important things to sweat over & sprout gray hairs worrying about
you don’t really seem like the type to fall for pretty words & vain repetitions
but poetry is different
this metronome snare & heartbreak bass’ll make you bob your head instead of hang it
if only for the moment-- sometimes it’s okay to be distracted for a few minutes

I know you’re so busy
too busy for me, but i heard this song & it reminded me of you--  I heard your smile in it, heard your heart’s music in the melody
& I’m just hoping I can change your mind
listen for a while & I’m hoping I can change the way that you smile
right now it looks as if only your mouth knows, like he alone got the memo that we should be happy even though
we should still glow in spite of this dim aura of melancholy-- I got a song that’ll make your teeth stop keepin secrets from your eyes &  heart
make ‘em let  your heavy spirit in on the corny joke he heard the other day

I know you’re content with that fraction of joy
but baby I’m selfish
I need your smile more than you do
believe it or not, you & me ain’t so different
I got a million worries makin my throat swell, a thick & humid air in my chest & a constricting of muscles every time I go to inhale, to confess
but the priest is never there when I go
I guess maybe he’s on lunch
though I go quite often
I wish there were someone else to help me repent but who do I pray to when no one has
the decency.
the heart.
the fuggin sense of urgency to take my hand off the detonator
there’s a time bomb on my chest set to God knows when so when I smile it’s more like a grimace
I cringe because it hurts to smile-- baby I need your light more than you’ll ever know
so please listen to my song-- let it take you back to better days when a smile was as easy as breathing is supposed to be

reality is spiraling all around me
so self-regarding martyr that I am,
I’ll ask you one more time—
I need to hear your smile. to drown out this incessant
the quiet of death’s heart is so annoying these days
so please…

can I play you something?

i support this

"aside from my belief that females can't really be friends for too long, i think most people are conditioned to find wack ass friends. 
not directly taught this - but taught to live in boxes, thereby putting their friends in one - or selecting friends that won't tear their box sides down. 

no no no. choose friends wisely. 
choose the friends that will support you. 
choose the friends that will show up at show openings and curtain closings. 
choose the friends that get your mom's number just in case some shit goes down 'cause they know she's your emergency contact. 
choose the friends who will answer when you call."
from the blog of Darnell Lamont Walker

i want a love like...

"i had a conversation with a beautiful woman who can't cook. "your mom had hopes you'd marry a banker who'd take care of you," i said. then she said "that's boring." i agreed. i told her about the poems, and artwork and songs that should be dedicated to her. she deserves spontaneity. so i'm about to teach her to cook & swim & live like me.   
maybe one day she'll fall in love with a man like me and remember why. "
from the blog of Darnell Lamont Walker

... i want to find this man. & let him conquer me. with no sexual implications intended.
a dude like this makes me believe in love again.
even if only for a few stanzas.

random realization #2094

sometimes i get so wrapped up in fixing things that i confuse trying to be a good friend with trying to be God. i forget that sometimes the actual rescue isn't my job per say, sometimes i'm just the one that swims out to you & waits with you until the rescue chopper comes. sits & comforts you. distracts you from your current situation if need be. the peacemaker. i can't do much as far as removing you from the predicament you're in but i promise i won't leave you alone. promise i won't leave you to fight on your own.

i swear this man is amazing.

"i want to be so deep in love that when i die - people do not mourn me - they mourn the heart of the one i leave behind because they know how it has now shattered."
from the blog of Darnell Lamont Walker

if you get the chance, read everything in his blog. like literally. -->  http://keeping-jones.blogspot.com
follow him on twitter too --> @skinnyjeanius
he is truly an amazing poet.
i'm gonna go finish reading now.

random realization #8524

i am not my words. they're just a facade i hide behind. in my mind i'm just a coward. i was reading a blog written by a poet i follow & one of his pieces held this line:

so we sat there. and what i really wanted to say never came to me. 
i became a writer and not a speaker, and i knew it'd come to me...
i'm a coward. i call my writing an outlet but i just use it to say things i can't bring myself to say to actual people. my poems hold the words i wish i would have said; they're the woulda coulda shouldas i come up with as i walk away. i can't find my words face to face so i write.
& i'm sure in the next few days i'll turn this post into another poem to hide behind.
because i'm actually
not a poet.
i'm just a coward.

days like this...

A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say, "May new sufferings torment your soul." ~Soren Kierkegaard
when we can no longer hold what is in us, we break. i've been waiting to break for some time now. these little poetic spurts are like cracks in a windshield when i'm passed ready to shatter.
i just want to write something beautiful.
i just want to write something heartbreaking.
something freeing.
something compelling.

to love is a heavy thing.
how many times have you heard someone say that they're ready to break?
one day though.
i will be rid of this.

Monday, January 3, 2011

the burden of words period.

I don't know if it's just me or what but poets are hella emotional. Well it may just be me, who knows. But for me some days are literally a fight to keep my emotions in check. Now I don't know if this is true for all poets or if I'm just unstable but I think I empathize entirely too well or something. Well... ok to avoid this being some unorganized rambling as my posts often end up, let's backtrack a wee bit. & yeah... I just said a wee bit.
Anyway, long story short, I consider myself to be a very blessed individual-- no conceitedness or vanity meant to be implied or anything-- I'm just very well aware that compared to those I've come in contact with even in college alone, I haven't gone through a lot of the things most people have gone through.  I will say I've had my fair share of ups & downs, struggles & things, I've had my heart broken a few times, experienced the loss of a loved one on more than one occasion but... ok well on paper that looks like quite a bit but... I guess I just don't have much regard for my own feelings? I mean I'm not gonna lie, there are times I feel for others way more than I do myself; like I said, I empathize very well. I guess it's the social worker in me but I just personify other's feeling more than I do my own, especially when it comes to my writing.  I guess this whole third eye thing helps with that, I can write about something I've never experienced or even better, something someone close to me has & I swear I'm overcome with emotion like it was really me. #FriendFact, I hate seeing people I love struggle or go through painful experiences yadda yadda yadda things of that nature. I would love to be able to just swoop down & take away all the hurt & pain & what have you but I'm not God.   & trust, as a loving friend, it's hard to come to grips with that. But did you know that a rescue attempt can block the growth God wants for that person? Believe it or not, I actually LEARNED that in class this semester. In social work we have a skill called containment where we sit back & let a client cry or yell or fuss, do whatever they need to do to get through to the other side of a break down. We're right there with them no doubt but we'd rather walk with them through the trenches than pick them up out of it right away. And with me being the person that I am, that's a hard one to learn-- I'm still working on it actually. I've accepted though that I can't just make shii go away. It's impossible & maybe even detrimental to your walk & I refuse to block you in any way-- love is no excuse. But I'll walk with you in the rain fa sho. & you'll make it through even if I have to carry you a little ways. But I digress.
I feel a great deal of others' pain. So I write. That's all I can do to keep myself from losing my mind. I'm guessing God made me a vessel in the sense that I hold things for others. And in this service He gave me my words. His words. & my words. He gave me His as a message, mine as a testimony. Either way someone will be blessed by what We have to say. But I can't lie to you, this writing is both a blessing and a curse it seems like. I'm tormented by my craft at times-- when there's something in me that needs to come out but isn't mature enough to be expelled, my God it's a discomfort like no other. For lack of a better term, it's almost like a depression or a melancholy state, it's like mentally I'm absent from whatever else I may be doing at the time. I'm there but I'm not. My mind is constantly reeling. That's literally why I take my phone everywhere. I can't miss these words. I even have an extra blackberry I only use to write in #DrakeNShii. It gets real. So at times I may seem detached or depressed or it might even seem like I'm mad at somebody. But mostly it's because this shii is heavy. I'm not antisocial or emo or whatever the kids are calling it these days. I promise I'm not devoid of emotion; in fact, it's just the opposite. And even as a poet I struggle to explain this... it's... it's dark yo. I can't lie this writing is like a demon in me sometimes. I can't shake it til it's ready.Nina the poet is not the same as Nina the person or Nina your friend. I guess the easiest & maybe the most played out metaphor would be birthing a child. There's inception, gestation, delivery, etc. But parents are proud of children whereas honestly, I'm rarely proud of my work. I guess I'm my own worst critic but with me it's more like I could've done more with it or something.  But "a poem is never really finished, only abandoned." & that's 100% real. & that's what bothers me the most but I constantly have to remind myself that it's not about what EYE want, it's about what He wants. What He has to say. And it's rough balancing the two of us out-- trying to discern if He's letting me speak or if He has something different for me to say for somebody. for me. But that's how I know this is what I'm supposed to be doing. This struggle between Him & me, the struggle within myself, this movement, this trying to be the counterculture in a world that insists on feigning ignorance, this constant progression, constant confirmation of anointing-- it's the nature of the beast. Poets are a different breed. Things are so different now that I'm learning to walk in my anointing &coming into my own as a woman. of God. I'm very observant. I see things... differently than most people. My mind wanders and wonders a lot. & I'd like to think I have a different sense of beauty than most. I have a very loose interpretation of art but I appreciate it so intently. I take my time. I gaze. I stare. But always with purpose & intent. But anywho, I'm rambling somethin fierce right about now.

A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say, "May new sufferings torment your soul." ~Soren Kierkegaard
& that there... that is my life. Truer words have never been spoken.

sometimes i forget all that words can do...

Let me fashion my lips as rock climbers,
and I’ll scale the ridges of your cheekbones
then lay softly in the willow hammock of your dimples.
#ChloeWayne #QuantumLeap

Sunday, January 2, 2011

i needed this today

Remember that the universe has bigger plans for you than those you have for yourself. You can’t take everyone with you. Send them off with love and well wishes and access to their own plans but send them off nonetheless. Not everyone is a friend but nobody is an enemy. Not everyone belongs in your heart but nobody is heartless. Just hurting. Allow them their hurt. Don’t let them hurt you.