Through the Magnifying Glass

Running for the presidency and winning is one thing, but a Black man doing it is another! American reeling from the Bush years needed a better winning solution, and one American in particular sprung a surprise coming out of nowhere and thrusting intellect up in the mix coupled with a magnificent campaign strategy. It was unheard of and unprecedented in political lore. Defying all odds, he made it and his persona is bigger than life -- like that of a magnifying glass! There's quite a bit to be said about scrutiny and all of its elements. Social value that signify acceptance is different among people of other persuasions. 

They are not prone to forget that racism is institutionalized by their ignorance and stupidity...they would be content in defying proverbial status quo by seeing Obama uphold the legacy of the Black Panthers, raising a defiant fist with a "Black Power" ideological pathos.  I wonder what would be their response if he appeared at the next press conference wearing a  dashiki and his hair in cornrows? Will the bill for reparations suddenly take on more meaning than they'd want to give it credit for? 

It's not a foregone conclusion that tolerance is only as effective as the time allowed for him to be successful in all things that the Bush administration screwed up on. The magnifying glasses are out in earnest! The man is under scrutiny for everything he seemingly detracts from promises he made during his campaign for the presidency. Mentioning race is an apparent no-no as his numbers plummets in the polls every time he does so. I long for the moment when the field is open and he's running toward the goal line for a touchdown. He scored because he deftly and with aplomb snuffed out the fires of iniquity throughout the world, and did everything imaginable for people to give this man much more than the chance he deserves without the ridicule while looking for the next mistake to harp on!  

My Ode to Black Women

Ladies, I was out and about when I came across a brother acting in ways unbecoming of a gentlemen in the presence of a woman. I approached him and after engaging him in conversation I found to my chagrin that comments disparaging to her was equally humiliating to me, as he uttered that she was only good for one thing. This brings me to ask a question of you: Do you think men give you more or less respect due to what they see on the surface? While you lament that thought, check out my personal homage to Black women:

Oh, for the beauty and bodacious embodiment of women of color, for the essence of your regal bearing and the essentiality of your being -- you have earned my respect. You have been my wife, my sister, my mother, my niece, my daughter, my granddaughter and my aunt. These roles are yours and you have out did yourself in them all! I salute you and bow to your good graces, and feel that God made you to be beautiful with much charisma, substance and style. I’ve loved you and lost you, only to pick up the pieces to become a better man for you...and in my quest to protect, honor and obey you, I want to be that virtuous man to serenade you and keep you forever. God made you comely with attributes that I admire that is unique to you.

We struggle together and live within our means. You will flaunt your spirituality and be that siren to walk hand in hand as we do ‘this’ in remembrance of Him. Will you open up your heart and pour out to me the flavor and juices that’s within your soul? Will you let me continue to be a pheromone to the delights of your scented presence? I’m addicted to you and want to revel in the charms and enchanting bliss of your chambers. I want to continue to hold, kiss and caress you in an Agape way.

...And along the way to Eden I promise to remember all that the Good Book says about you, and give you my all. You are strong and resilient, and the world knows this! I will hold you up in highest esteem and will not abandon you. I will train up our children so that they will know the way to go; self, family and community will be the triad that transpose a willingness to make our calling and election surest; and surely I will look upward and thank Him for sending you me, for the windows of your soul are your beautiful eyes that yearn to see me keep the faith and keep my promises. Ladies of the world and Black women hither to yon, know that I care and carry you around always -- in my heart!

My Tribute to National Poetry Month

Poetry and the creative mind have always shared the same stage words are choreographed to dance and glide smooth across our sensibilities. We embrace wit and dress it up to express deep within the moxie that measures lines of accomplished value. There's something about the ability to give it personal touches and significance. We've all come to love how it permeates our lives when they are timely and timeless. We reach for them when we are in those melancholy moods and need an uplift. American has taken notice and decided to honor them -- to the tune of a whole month to coddle them. Inaugurated by the Academy of American Poets in 1996, National Poetry Month is now held every April, when publishers, booksellers, literary organizations, libraries, schools and poets around the country band together to celebrate poetry and its vital place in American culture. Thousands of businesses and non-profit organizations participate through readings, festivals, book displays, workshops, and other events.

I started my writing career writing poetry. I studied the best of them and wondered exactly what it was that spurred the great poets to write as they did. Was it a certain sense of creative spunk that can be called upon at random? What makes a great poet? If you were to ask at the spur of the moment a few dozen people, you would probably get a plethora of different answers. I would imagine that some would say that a great poet are sensitive to their needs, or makes them laugh and cry. Others would say that a poet is only as good as the last great poem he wrote. To me a great poet makes me want to read a poem over and over again, each time seeing something new. I want to see the passion in their selections and compassion for the craft; I want expressionism to jump out and slap me and keep me attentive and captive. I read poetry for many different reasons and find that no one poem is the same. Or is it? What then, makes a good poem? I always look for a standard that bode well for structure and stability, which can make or break poetry for me. And all of my favorite poets through the annals of time had it. Phyllis Wheatley had it; Paul Lawrence Dunbar perfected it; Edgar Allen Poe demanded it; Walt Whitman wore it as a medal of honor; Rita Dove taught it; Maya Angelou defines it and Nikki Giovanni IS it!  That common denominator that all of the above resonates with is -- Style, Substance and Charisma.

The reason I feel that poetry should be depicted as an adjective because it describes my rationality in all things definitive to it.  I've always considered a poem "good" if it is allowed to have longevity and stays with me; when I want to think back on what I read, I want to reminisce knowing that there are words, images, feelings, or ideas that will move me beyond my current state.  "Great" poems are ones that are memorable for reasons closer to the heart -- like Wr. Whitman's OH CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN; Poe's  ANNABELL LEE and THE RAVEN; Nikki's LIKE A RIPPLE ON A POND; or Maya Angelou's ON THE PULSE OF MORNING. It's all about having the caged bird to sing out in a liberated way and vociferously all good with poetic verve. What sets me to flowing is when euphoria is indicative of sheer elation knowing that the poet wrote profoundly and with emotional compassion. So-called good poems, as well as the great ones vibrate with alarm and energy that can't be passive, forgotten or ignored. As I celebrate National Poetry Month, I salute, celebrate the poignancy of poetry, and what it means to the lexicon for the humanities!  

Shame On You, NY Post!

A colleague of mine, fellow author Donna Hill has echoed the sentiments of an entire race of people who was appalled and dismayed that a major newspaper would stoop so low to further enshrine racism at the core. It gives me great pleasure to reprint her letter to the NY Post, and for good reason. I applaud her action as she beat ME to the punch! This unforgettable act goes to show you that blatant racism is still part of the Amerikkkan train of thought in keeping people of color from ascending to equal parity. President Barak Obama, notwithstanding, clearly will be a target that they will want to discredit.

But you know what? Our time is NOW! God has already ordained us to finally have opportunities to balance the scales. My hope is for Black America to wake up and move in unison to a different beat! Now back to my sister, Donna Hill. You will want to read what she had to say about such a despicable act. To wit:

"Your obscene, offensive, incendiary cartoon in the NY Post is below the lowest standards that the NY Post already hold themselves to. Not only should Black America be appalled, but the world should be appalled at this blatant, racist cartoon. I never made it a practice to buy our bigoted newspaper that continues to promote divisiveness and narrow-mindedness that does no more than incite the bigots of American. Now, I will not only buy it, but will encourage any and everyone I know to do the same through all of the outlets available to me, which are many!

Rupert Murdock and his ilk are the cancer that continues to eat away at this country form the inside out. A disease that would prefer to see itself replicated...hurting and damaging everything in its wake rather than allowing societ to heal from the ravages of your diseased self!"

Donna Hill

Rising To The Occasion for A New Birth of Freedom!

FSB Associates (www.fsbassociates.com) are in a unique position, one that they are used to in providing internet marketing services by seasoned publishing professionals. If it's sales, marketing and internet experience in providing a total package for the ultimate literary experience they are preeminent in this field. Alas, the clock is ticking with a different view of history fast approaching, and what an exciting time to be an American brimming with anticipation! On January 20th Barack Obama will become the President of the greatest country in the world, with his mantra that "change can happen!". We will be in position to witness a day that will illuminate a new awareness that will resonate in time. What an appropriate time to introduce to you an outstanding book definitive of this time - 'STILL I RISE'  by Roland Owen Laird Jr., Taneshia Nash Laird, and Elihu Bey.  More about this book, the authors and others who are touting it is as follows:

"As a contribution to illustrated history from a Black point of view, " writes acclaimed foreword author Charles Johnson, "Still I Rise is a unique achievement, one that will be valued - like Art Spiegelman's Maus: A Survivors Tale...by students, educators, collectors, and general readers for a long time to come." Newly available in an updated edition, the compelling and irreverent graphic history that recounts the entire scope of the African-American experience, now concludes with Barack Obama's groundbreaking 2008 Presidential candidacy. 

Still I Rise traces the epic struggles and victories of African-American in the face of racist obstacles and unfathomable hardships. It follows the rise of slavery the Nat Turner Rebellion; military contributions of African-Americans; the birth of modern integration; Freedom Summer; the emergence of the Black Power movement; the Million Man March; and Hurricane Katrina. Cultural milestones are also found here, from the Harlem Renaissance and the Invisible Man to heritage festivals and artists who illuminate the complexity of African-American life. Heroic notables and visionaries are introduced such as Frederick Douglass, Sojourner Truth, Madame C.J. Walker, Ida B. Wells, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr., and many more. Lesser-known luminaries are featured too, including Carter G. Woodson, the father of Black Studies, and Deadria Farmer-Paellman, who campaigned for restitution from modern companies that played a direct role in the slave trade.

The insightful text is sometimes acerbic but does nothing to lessen the impact of the book. Other times there's humor with a powerful if not honest demeanor.  Taking its title from a Maya Angelou poem, STILL I RISE is a moving and inspirational account of the rich history of African-Americans. Now, about the authors: Noted African-American entrepreneur Roland Laird is a co-founder of Posro Media, a Trenton, New Jersey-based company that produced the comic book series MC Squared: A Man With a Serious Game Plan, and the syndicated comic strip The Griots. The company has worked and continues to develop a number of animated and documentary projects for film and television. For this book, the authors' first rate scholarship s supplemented with a healthy dose of attitude, and Bey's illustrations are both energetic and uncompromising. If you are a true comic book fan you will want this book!

Holiday Memories

Memories of Christmas for me throughout the years have had special thoughts in an individual way. You see, I had problems sharing it with six other kids who more often than not invariably spoiled things whenever they could. Being the eldest kind of gave me free rein on 'first' things - like being the first to see mom and dad call themselves fooling us to believe that Santa really existed; and first to not fall asleep waiting for Christmas to come; and the first to ride the bicycle that had to be shared six different riding terms. Did I really believe in Santa Claus? I originally thought so until about seven years old when the cat was let out of the bag - literally! Back then one of the toys that Dad brought to place under the tree rolled out of his toy sack. From my vantage point under the stairs (which was a good hiding place) I had a perfect view. When I tell people that I remember verbatim what happened on that Christmas Eve they tend to look at me with jaundiced eyes, but I KNOW what I saw! I tried telling everybody that Daddy was really Santa Claus but quite a few people told me otherwise and several times I was threaten with whippings.

Then there was the matter of the Christmas tree. I hated that tree! Why? Because every time it would shed those needles guess who was summoned to clean them up? Yep, Me! I must admit though, that the best part of Christmas for me was always the bright lights and ornate displays. Mom and Dad used to take us all around town visiting neighborhoods oohing and aahing at how creative people were. What made this so fun was the fact that my Dad would round up all the other neighborhood kids and we'd make the rounds. This of course were during the times when there was a real village raising us, and Big Mamas had clout.

Yes, there were a few other things that made it memorable to think about how it was back in the day. I remember Union 5 roller skates, sweat shirts with our names sewn on the back and all of us skating in packs on real sidewalks in and around the tenement projects. I remember tangerines, pomegranates, egg nog (without the rum, darn it!), a bicycle built for seven, and fruit cake that I absolutely hated (even today!). Deep down inside I've always wondered what was all the hoopla was about...all I ever wanted was a good book and a warm space to crawl into.

Nowadays as the holidays approaches, I'm now reminded that things indeed are different and how children are STILL in suspense as to the who, what and why of it all. I must remember not to spoil it for the kids. To me, Christmas is not the same anymore. People change, times change, but the authenticity of this holiday is not celebrated right. Perhaps one day, unlike 50 years ago when I was seven the real reason for my season was getting to the bottom of the stairs just to get the jump on the rest of my siblings. In 2008, I'm smarter and spiritually aware that the birth of Jesus is being taught to my grandkids, and that Kwanzaa has significant meaning as a viable alternative to paganistic verve and commercial ill.