absolutely brilliant! inspiration to share my own story and telling. 🙂

# 3. Have sex only to celebrate and commemorate. Never to forget and never to avoid doing something you need to do to fulfill your chosen purpose. -Nzinga Sibongile

Nzingha was born Nzinga Sibongile Job to Trinidadian parents in Nairobi, Kenya. She currently works as a full-time music and theatre arts teacher in Tobago. Nzingha has been acting, singing and dancing since the age of five and wrote her first screenplay at ten. Although she attributes “taking singing seriously” to the release of the Bryan Adams song “For You”, she, like most artists, lives on the edge of society – watching, observing, interpreting and translating life’s complexities into various forms of expression. Nzinga, is a poet, songwriter, educator, social observer, and actor. She is an artist.

You gotta make the decision to be the one difference in yo life to turn it around. -Angel Haze

I asked mama for a song and she sent this 🙂

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oP5tpeg_LkY

I typed in Giant Sunflowers Swaying in the Wind after recalling the dream of my dearly departed brother David. He speaks to me through sunflowers. Take a listen. Ease your mind. Please…

Free style bout blackness. lovenusk. stanknusk lol!

Willfully unafraid. uninhibited. elephant warrior. intimate brown flesh. she lives in a bowl of sunglasses. telepathic. she gaze along side the sun. free in all our movements. shaky movements. embrace body magik. the sky is lucky to have me. jarring exclamation, no-no shame here (put a spell on em)! shutter at the thought of being silenced here. one love-yo love. no stopping her. even in the depth of death. flow. dance. smile-smile-smile-flaunt folds, thick. ambush. body ink and waist beads. clavicles. perky dollops. degenerative bones beneath pretty arms and legs. go ahead tell me how to be black. she will smile polite. then leap like a brave bird. she fly away!-Gracie

Cody ChesnuTT performs live from CMJ Union during CMJ 2012. Recorded October 17th, 2012

Tracks:
Til I Met Thee
That’s Still Mama
What Kind Of Cool (Will We Think Of Next)
Love Is More Than A Wedding Day
Everybody’s Brother

Host: Kevin Cole
Audio Engineer: Kevin Suggs
Cameras: Jim Beckmann, Kevin Guinto, Scott Holpainen & Lizzie Seiple
Edits: Scott Holpainen
Lighting Designer: Sarah Abigail Hooke-Brady

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1aSJCvnsCXcclo2bzlzano5YVU/edit?usp=sharing

i say one’s physical appearance only bides time. for all that one is, is really on the inside. In the spirit of things on some top shelf shit, only for the look, never for the taste. and what is beneath is the truth. and in this case i call it a character flaw. flawed deception. and his words were empty like hallelujah to a non believer. and I don’t believe in you sir. texting me back cause your girls in the room saying have a nice night young lady. when you just phucked my back out last week. tried to pull the down comforter over my eyes as you tried slowly phucking me to death in the beginning, and no wonder you always insisted on us phucking in the dark. cause you never wanted to share my gaze and probably couldn’t handle it. and like i told you i shall text til i feel better. and that sir is apart of my healing. now i will write like word vomit projecting you up and out of my belly. liar. and you coward i should’ve known all along when you shared that story, couldn’t even save those children you were paid 28 bones an hour to protect, so how could i ever expect you to protect me in any way? you coward, who instead of not standing 6 feet 2 inches against systematic violence in a residential treatment facility, was found lying petrified in a fetal position. and you shamed yo self trembling, all out, desperate spilling red roses out of hands, let them smear ass with shit to your face. and you thought you was smooth cause you gained financially from those children’s suffering. and oh the funniest shit is that civil law suite you mentioned that you and your coworkers were going to file for your pain and suffering. tell me sir, tell me again who’s child is left behind still suffering? and you coward who with your silence allowed those children to be victimized with horrendous acts of violence domestic, sexual, substance, vigilante style suffering against those children. with wide eyes wide, i sat in horror, disbelief that a living being could be so passive with the suffering of others, yet how could i expect you to understand any suffering i was feeling. and that suffering sir you have within. as you recalled a story about that young boy under 18, being courted by his therapist, raped. the pictures they snapped of each other kissing one the beach, under the moon light, and all you could do was shake your head at it. little boy trapped in that phucking big body! you punk dick fallacy. you ain’t no leader. no more worthy of the space taken up in the belly of glutenous capitalist’s. and i wish to obliterate your lack of self-respect with a wash board. scrub you away, the impurities sir. and i admit the way your physical appeared made me feel safe at first and then when you opened your phucking mouth i felt a since of silence, embarrassment, squeamish that i even feigned over you. you are no different sir than the slave masters that sold Africans like beasts. and you sir are a cowardly beast instead you smile perpetuating the same losses. and i expected you to care that i cared, for what? time biding, biding my time, and thank goodness for poems and words. -Gracie