Poetic Dream

Cayenne Butter

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 20:24:44 PST

Every morning,
I hear the banana trees swaying
in the Jamaican winds
and the bubbling up of the frothy sea
upon the Island shores
when you call my name
in your raspy, masculine manner
and in your accent that is so earthy and unique to you
then you talk to me about how you prayed
thanking God for finding me
and although I had forgotten him for a sentence
it is through you that we have found acceptance
and I am now able to reclaim his presence
when I hear your words,
“i want to romance you”
it has my psyche spinning like a weavers wheel
you are romancing the romanticism loom
deep within me
reigniting
spinning
creating
admiring
loving
possibilities are possibly
wading on the horizon of the orange sun
kissing the bluest half moon in the distance
while I keep picturing your dimply smile
and brown skin toothed grin
you are beautiful man, with a more gorgeous soul
and you are sweet to me like cayenne butter

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Vortex

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 02:11:40 PST

I pushed my cart swiftly past several aisles in the store rushing to get the item that I was actually there for, my sleeping pills. I reached the row that they were on, but standing in the way was a man who was obviously homeless. I stood waiting hoping he would move so that I could get them and go about my way, but he asked, “What are you looking for?”

I steered my body around his and positioned myself nearer to them saying, “Sleeping pills, I have to take them every night or I won't get any sleep.”

He waited for me to make my decision and explained, “I have to take them to sleep too. But, I like Tylenol PM, they are the best.”

I said, “Really? Well you have a good one.” as I threw my brand in the cart and smiled leaving the aisle walking away to give the store a look around once more.

I eventually made it to the counter and stood in line and he was in front of me. We chatted a little more and finally he and his friend left, walking out the store door.

I saw them standing on the side in front of the store while I was headed for my car. He started yelling over to me about how he sleeps out in the patch of woods behind the strip mall in a sleeping bag. And, it was at that moment that I knew I had just been hooked like a fish out of the old Mill Pond back in my hometown in South Carolina.

I listened to him talk and I noticed that it was hard for me to look him in his eyes. I was afraid that I would be consumed into the abyss of his pupils void of dignity. I was frightened that I would be sucked into the vortex of pain that I would see coming for me from his eyes. It was too late, I had been dipped in batter and it was time for me to be fried.

I kept asking myself, how did he know that I would care? He doesn’t know that I keep a collection of stories and faces of those like him that I have run into. Two of the most memorable are from Washington, DC. There was this one guy that was lying in a sleeping bag scooting up and down the sidewalk doing all he can to get someone to take notice of his situation. I couldn't resist him either, so I looked into his eyes and it felt like a century passed by me within seconds, I was transfixed into his vortex. That filled my heart heavy given purpose and meaning to my voice, my writing.

Then there was the heavy set lady who paraded up and down the streets dressed with the American flag painted all over her body from head to toe, across her hair and every inch of her clothes. The minute I laid my eyes on her, I cried and even today at least six years later I still think of her. Of course I am sure I fell in her vortex, but I just don't remember doing it.

But tonight my mind drifted back to Charlie, he never said his name, but that is what I call him. I still think of his dirty hands wearing off black gloves with the fingers cut out. Even though I hardly had the money to purchase the items for myself I gave all of my food to him, asking “Do you guys have a can opener?” He said, “Yes.” I retorted, “Good.”

Well, I took my sleeping pills and it is almost five in the morning, but I did not get any rest. Overnight the moon was full and my mood changes with it, so that might be why I was restless. But I hope he slept well at least even though he will wake up blanketed by the morning dew.

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Mire

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 05:51:54 PST

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Love feels like quicksand
because I am trapped in a quagmire
of rapturous inner expressions
felt for you
and fashioned by your essence
the more that I try to escape
the more that I am enveloped
I live powerless in this mire
of which I have no rescue rout

Africana King Published Online

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 01:25:47 PST

Thank you soo much for the poem. I have posted it on the site (I tried to get creative with the pic :)). I hope that I can do an interview with you at a later time to feature you and your work.

Here’s the link: http://www.tastekulcha.com/poem-africana-king/

Be well,
Simba

Africana King

Black man,
beautiful fine and smooth
you own the finesse of an Africana King
I celebrate you with my femininity
within my spirit i bow down to your masculinity
and at your altar I lay before your feet,
I bathe you with my black seas
and as we rest in the bed of our desires
in the wake of our passion spent
you speak to me,
I hear rivers of knowledge that permeate my mental panties
penetrating the lobes of my inner cerebral
we know there is not much time in our hands
as it pours from the sand clocks broken
it covers our feet while we lock eyes
mesmerized within the pools of our brown pupils
drawn by the tug of our bodies' need to connect,
our fingers intertwine and an interlocking of metaphysics
physically expressed
mental to mental
energy to energy
cosmic to cosmically
as we kiss it lasts for one thousand years
one thousand tingles tickle my spin
while your fingers caress my frame
I allow my eyes to sip every angle of your face
i watch you as close as a lioness on the prowl of her prey
I mimic your moves slowly and softly I move,
raising my head to catch the scent of your mood
so that I can respond in a way that is pleasing to the Africana King
realizing that it is your need to rule
I willingly submit my service in the way that you request,
in the way that you want,
knowing that the more you are fulfilled
the more it brings out your inner confidence
and as you are your best you,
it drives me even more sexually and passionately
i seek to devour the maleness full within me
deep as the Nile rivers
flowing through my canals
as the current of lust makes its way in my screams of ecstasy
as a gift from the Africana King

Akili Amina on Facebook

Online Publishing Opp

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Mon, 28 Nov 2011 20:08:50 PST

Simba Russeau has left a new comment on your post "Africana King":

Really great piece. Would love to feature some of your poems on my site Taste Culture. I already link to your blog and have been following for some time now. My site is http://www.tastekulcha.com

Would be great to feature some of your work!

Simba

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New Moon

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 15:20:43 PST

There’s a new moon over my Aquarius
And it has lit the way to all of my sentiments
Like my fire to Aries
And your water to Pisces
There was a zodiac wakening or shifting,
On the day we met, you spun my celestial equator
Rotating it 90degrees and tilting it to the left slightly
Making room for your interstellar presence
Filling my skies with love comets, bright stars, and other sensual intergalactic variations
And I felt it …
Yes, I felt it when our constellations made an enormous collision
And I heard the boom and the blasts when it rocked the mid heavens
As I floated so effortlessly in the haze of our ecstasy
We scorched everything in our path with this fire
And it placed me in a dreamlike state that I have yet to awaken
Somehow you have managed to pull all of my love energies
And you steer my lifeforce that is terribly addicted
To your existence, to your being, and to your manly essence
Unlikely, there will never be another who will capture this part of me you have taken claim to
Hand in hand we prayed at the altar of Ara
And we rode on the back of Chiron
And then we wrote our names in outer space
Joining limb to limb spanning seas of stars
We remade the Ursa constellation designing
You now the major and I the minor
And they are in the shape of two celestial bodies
In the crux of the burning sun’s solar flames
Outlining our auras completely
As we are united in a lover’s embrace
While my head rests upon your shoulder
I think on the experiences you have shown me
As they are made immortal in time
As they are seared memories giving way
To the new moon over my Aquarius
And forever my earth will continue to rotate differently on its axis
I am grateful in all actuality that our spirits still meet
Because you make me
You know it’s funny,
But you make me glad
I got this thing for you
And I can hardly contain it
Never mind on my maintaining it
So I will express it to anyone that will listen
I will express it with my deepest sighs when I think of you
Until my new moon will wane crescent
Rising in the east closest to dawn

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Africana King

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Tue, 18 Oct 2011 10:51:33 PDT

Black man,
beautiful fine and smooth
you own the finesse of an Africana King
I celebrate you with my femininity
within my spirit i bow down to your masculinity
and at your altar I lay before your feet,
I bathe you with my black seas
and as we rest in the bed of our desires
in the wake of our passion spent
you speak to me,
I hear rivers of knowledge that permeate my mental panties
penetrating the lobes of my inner cerebral
we know there is not much time in our hands
as it pours from the sand clocks broken
it covers our feet while we lock eyes
mesmerized within the pools of our brown pupils
drawn by the tug of our bodies' need to connect,
our fingers intertwine and an interlocking of metaphysics
physically expressed
mental to mental
energy to energy
cosmic to cosmically
as we kiss it lasts for one thousand years
one thousand tingles tickle my spin
while your fingers caress my frame
I allow my eyes to sip every angle of your face
i watch you as close as a lioness on the prowl of her prey
I mimic your moves slowly and softly I move,
raising my head to catch the scent of your mood
so that I can respond in a way that is pleasing to the Africana King
realizing that it is your need to rule
I willingly submit my service in the way that you request,
in the way that you want,
knowing that the more you are fulfilled
the more it brings out your inner confidence
and as you are your best you,
it drives me even more sexually and passionately
i seek to devour the maleness full within me
deep as the Nile rivers
flowing through my canals
as the current of lust makes its way in my screams of ecstasy
as a gift from the Africana King

Akili Amina on Facebook

Poet: Indigo Moor

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 09:26:55 PDT

I found this wonderfully gifted poet! Indigo Moor (smiles)

here is the link...for some reason it wont show up in my post: http://youtu.be/_40OcmOuM0A

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The Garden

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 23:59:00 PDT

Look at the dilapidated ruins of our white picket fence
That framed our garden
And when it was our spring
It held rows of gorgeous carrots, beets and cabbage
And even after all we tried; we still couldn’t keep out the rabbits
One of us left the shed door open
And this let the flies in too
So, now we got us a glorious mess of compost heap gold
Row after row, we added one each year
Each day we would sprinkle sunshine on their leaves
Each night we basked in the dusk’s dew drops
I loved it when it was moist on my lips
As it dripped down between my thighs
But this patch is just our dilapidated ruins
Surrounded by a broken down white washed fence
With holes underneath
Left by those damn rabbits
Well anyway nothing left for me to do but clean it all up
And put away all the tools
Cause we aint young no more
And hell its fall anyway

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Sunflower

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Wed, 14 Sep 2011 17:24:49 PDT

I have worn these shoes before
It has been quite awhile
But they still fit my feet
And they still go with this dress
That’s frilly and flowery and cute
And these shoes are still sturdy
They are the ‘just right’ type of pumps that all women have in their wardrobes
And I love the way they sound as I walk to that door
That same door I walked through before
And, I have seen those longing last looks we give each other
Just as I close this door, that door that I walked through before
And, I been down this street
And I passed by these houses before
As I wave at these passersby’s once more
I turn down a new lane or go down this new pathway
And it has this field full of sunflowers that are new to me
And the sun shines brighter in this place
And these flowers smell so sweet!
I pick one and hold it in my hand
As I am smiling so free
I begin walking again swinging my hips
In my bare feet
Just being me,
With me

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Ethics in Black Society

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Thu, 08 Sep 2011 13:23:32 PDT

"The needs of a society determine its ethics, and in the Black American ghettos the hero is that man who is offered only the crumbs from his country's table but by ingenuity and courage is able to take for himself a Lucullan feast. Hence the janitor who lives in one room but sports a robin's-egg-blue Cadillac is not laughed at but admired, and the domestic who buys forty-dollar shoes is not criticized but is appreciated. We know that they have put to use their full mental and physical powers. Each single gain feeds into the gains of the body collective."
-Maya Angelou (one of my favorite writers, her mind "a gift to society")

I was doing research on a paper I have to submit regarding Ethics and stumbled upon this gem. Enjoy.

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Published on Danse Macabre du Jour today!

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Wed, 31 Aug 2011 08:47:09 PDT

Akili,
Your poems are our Danse Macabre du Jour selection today!
Thanks,
Kendley

On Thu, Jul 28, 2011 at 11:14 PM, wrote:
You have received the following message through the Contact Us form on your Microsoft Office Live Small Business Web site:

Message:
Possibilities
Step one
And, I can finally see the trees
After all the fog dissipates
Right before me
Revealing a new direction
A new road
To somewhere
That, there
Of unanswered prayers
Filled with time clock illusions
Down a dead man’s walk
Or the pathway of my extraordinaire measures, lost
And, I can finally see my feet
After all the clouds have diminished away
Leaving me to all my horrid time machine ventures
Of those yesterdays, misplaced and hidden
Lying close to the strewn debris of my anger
Mixed with piles of my unanswered prayers
And, like the leaves falling from trees they
Try to catch the winds of my unnoticed pleas
Failing me like the old beauty’s sagging cheeks
Ruining any chance for a glance
At my personal definition of happiness
Maybe god was at his busiest
When I asked in pleas
For relief from life’s strangulations
And the very strong grip to my elsewhere
That, there
Lost in the middle of nowhere
Despite my contrite appeals for mercy
So here is my gift of “I’m sorry”
Wrapped beautifully
And it seems quite fair for me
To travel this road alone,
But I won’t go forward feeling empty
And, I won’t be lonely
After I shed the cloak of my distant memories
That played the broken strings of my heart symphonies
So, today I will look straight ahead
And bravely travel the new frontier of my life’s possibilities
Using my inner instincts as my navigational compass

Molasses Kiss
You’re all that I ever desired
Taking daily walks through my mind
You are crossing red seas........(read the rest here at this link)

http://dansemacabre.art.officelive.com/DanseMacabreDuJour.aspx

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Molasses Kiss

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Thu, 28 Jul 2011 20:31:47 PDT

Molasses Kiss
You’re all that I ever desired
Taking daily walks through my mind
You are crossing red seas and
Going on forty days journeys
And forty nights amiss my muddled dreams
It seems to me that you’re all that I ever wanted, and
All that I desired
Was to hear your male melodies
Sung close to my ear
While our bodies were syncopated
On the rhythmical waves of love’s music
And in affection’s time
Like the tick tocks of the metronome
My heart strokes your name and
My mind make believes that no other man exists
And if this persists
How will I go on?
I fully accept that you see me as a
Unrequited nightmare full of howling black ghosts
Bearing long claws with large fanged teeth
Trying to capture your elusive beating heart
That is translucent like a crystalized prism reflection it is
Forever escaping me
Crucifying me on the tree of helpless needs
When you are all that I aspired
You are all that I ever desired
You are all that I ever need
And lately you don’t hear my cry
Lately you won’t heed my soul that is bone, dry
And all that I would require
Is to look into your eyes until the need to peck your lips
Overwhelms me and propels me to your
Soft molasses kiss
Allowing the showers of passion
To wash away any dismiss
To wash away any signs of discontent,
Absent

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It Doesn't Matter

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 23:09:47 PDT

In my life there are times
When certain words hold weight
There are certain phrases that will allow me to endure
And prevail in certain circumstances as
I state my words over them, placing my seal
On it regardless of the consequences
I use all types of phrases or sayings like anyone else
But lately it behooves me or moves me to just say what I feel
Like, “it doesn’t matter”
Yeah I know that isn’t anything new
Or real hip and sorry if doesn’t impress you, but
It doesn’t matter
Like when I see a child’s life
Going in a direction that no one wishes it would go in
While my hands are tied behind my back with duct tape
And they can’t hear my screams because it’s over my mouth
And I don’t get why in this life that child wasn’t cut any slack, but
It doesn’t matter
Like when I put all my hard work into certain situations
Only for it to be cut from me surgically or a mental castration
Removing all my time and energy
Leaving a place in me all cold and empty
Angry for my choices
Angry for my miscalculated moves
Madder are my feelings in the end, but I guess
It doesn’t matter
It doesn’t.
It can’t when I look at the fact that
95% of domestic violence victims are females
Suffering victimization within their own homes
By the hands of those they love
Causing bodily injuries or they are being beat with words
Being criticized, called names, and they are tolerating
Blow after blow to their psyche with put downs
And I aint talking about something I read
Because I know how it feels to wish he had used his fists
Instead of words pounding and pounding my soul like ground beef, but
That shit don’t matter!
I know that if he had used his fists
At least I would have physical evidence
For the pain I feel and at least it would all make more sense when I cry, but
All of it just doesn’t matter
Because in this life I learned you have to use your power
Whatever you have control of, use it
Whatever way you can take the reins, take it
And what you hold dear others might shatter
But if they do demand it back from them, and
Forgive them for what they did to you,
But before you leave it all behind just tell them
“It doesn’t matter”

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Ash

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Thu, 26 May 2011 15:51:55 PDT

Ash,
Around me
these ashes
are on my bare feet
Blackening my toes
Up above my ankles
Ashes,
Incinerated aspirations crumbled like dried bones
In slow fire’s crackling songs and in the sparks of flame’s hiss
Due to my intentions denials and you’re refusing to take hold of my beautiful daydreams
Like black butterflies in twilight’s flight
They fly
These ashes,
Ash
Somber blazes within me
Of those disintegrated nightmares that
Are upon my fingertips and smudged on my palms
And I stand,
In ash
Or ashes
Or the black grime
Of my wasted time
in the cinders of 'what would have been’
Evidently, I the only one
Who sees the beauty in the ‘what should have been’?
But like the black butterfly
Who flees in twilight’s flight?
I am free
Free, in search of happiness
And soon I will realize it is in the beauty of my wings
And in the sound of my fluttering heart
Or in the soul of the gorgeous
That gorgeous soul within me
And even now
In these most splendid, ashes
That are aflame
Of what once were my dreams
What once were my aspirations
Or the ‘why I wake ups’
Gone.
And now what lies beneath these most splendid ash and ashes
Is the foundation of my true genesis that rises slowly,
As they vanish away
In these muted winds

Akili Amina on Facebook

What Are the Benefits of Positive Thinking?

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Thu, 19 May 2011 07:18:50 PDT

All of us are striving for happiness in whatever form that might be. Each of us have our own set of core beliefs that direct our decision making and thinking processes daily. We all are trying to put together our little mental fortresses and palaces of felicity together. Stacking up tiny increments as we go along like lego blocks, they come in various colors, shapes, and dimensions.

In every sect there are most likely different categories we are simply shaping up everyday. It is unbeknown the overall outcome but we are well aware of our actions to find those things that define happiness for us.

We are well aware of what we do for the pursuit of love, wealth, and our general well being. Take one moment to think about what activities you have put in place in the last few minutes, hours, weeks, or month to help bring it all about. Did you write a poem to someone you love? Did you put in place a new business plan? Did you take up a class on how to do that thing that will help bring about the fruition of your happiness?

Well, out of all that you have done or plan to do, it is best to pack up some positive thinking on your journey. It is best to get in the practice of being a positive thinker. Actually it is my strong suggestion that you affirm your intended outcome out-loud to yourself. Sound silly?

Okay, let me slow it down a bit for those nay-sayers. Let me begin by saying that whatever you have going on in your life this very second and whatever you are surrounded by started as a thought within your own mind. You created this universe you are in even as you read this article. I hope that you are in a peaceful place mentally and that it is physically serene as well.

You are the God of your universe. You put all things in their places mentally before they manifested into your reality. We must take responsibility for every part of our life. And, that is why we need positive thinking.

So, if all you see around you were your thoughts that means they are important. It is highly important to keep your thought temple pure and clean. Don't let contaminations seep into your thought temple. We can all define the contaminations of our lives. It doesn't matter if they come from an outside source or if they originate in our own minds. You must sweep your temple clean and keep it that way.

As a god of your universe know that the center of your happiness comes from inside you. And, the more you affirm to yourself the outcomes you desire daily. The more you create the world you want to live in. Your powers are limitless. If you don't like the world you're in get to thinking, positive. Get to cleaning up your temple and bring about a your new YOU-niverse.

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Say One Word

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Thu, 19 May 2011 07:40:28 PDT

like, i long to hear you say one word
you have to shine your light a little
peek out from under your blanket of fears
and your covering that is knotted and nappy,
like the dirty raggedy fleece blanket dragged by childlike insecurities
holding onto the subconscious feelings, physically
while you unconsciously ostracize yourself

when will you realize that
it doesn't conceal anything
it doesn't hide the eyes that dance while they lie
or protect your soul's tinge from the
cold conditions we all bare in this lifetime
and how we all learn to bare these harsh windy realities
with thin summer jackets but the lucky ones
wear their LL Bean parkas
and don't nothing get through

like, I long to hear you say just one word
say, one sentence that will bring me closer to
exploring the ice-y caverns that are wide and deep
with your thoughts and
dont say no to our
hiking the arctic peaks of your opinions
they mean nothing until you share them
until we explore our differences and their significances
come journey with me on the planes
of our intellect
and down the roads of our ideas
not looking back into the face of repent
or into the profile of discontent

say one word
say just one word for me
even if it is full of numb emotionless sentiments
dead like the holy sea
passionless and sad
non empathetic
it still means you are alive
and your judgments lively spirited

why do you choose to keep them so obscure
from me?

Quiet is not the new perfect
and it is in this silence i breathe
and from this prison I seek release

Once, in life
I chose to live as a selective mute
only speaking when I had to
I chose to watch living behind a wordless glass door
that opened up to the padded rooms of my
inner sanctuary
eventually I decided to
leave my asylum
of misery
and before long
I was shouting in the streets
like the tireless protesters
who are against a dictatorship government

I spoke out with my speech
But more importantly I used
the bullhorns called my journals
and held up signs filled with my poetry expressing
all that resides in the
corners of my mind
revealing the recesses of
my spirit in words

Words, just utter one
let it fall from your mouth
like a book from a library shelf
in the dead of night when
all of the librarians are asleep

utter it
utter it
speak

say it
let it fly from your lips like first flight of the baby bird

say it don’t you know
your presence is my comfort and it is my gift when you say, just one word

(I extend my deepest apologies to all readers. I apologize for the empty posts. Blogspot had a global issue this past month and empty posts happened to be one of them. Thanks for your patience.)

Akili Amina on Facebook

Tomorrow's Distance

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Tue, 26 Apr 2011 17:43:45 PDT

The sky’s eye is shut closed, tight
Although hidden beaks still call in the twilight
I hear them in these freshly drenched maple trees
While the rain scented wind kisses my cinnamon skin
Encircling me, it gives my arms chill pimples
While small islands of pools scatter the black asphalt sea
Outlined by four wheeled boats of steel
Real emotional, this day has grown tired and been teary
And this spring is beginning to melt
As I watch a black pup on a chain who walks the lady
Pulling her body by a long leash
Sniffing saturated sheaves of grass, incessant
I stand on looking from the balcony of tomorrow’s distance
Watching life settling for new dawned evening
I know that hope is in the twinkling leaves
Of these freshly drenched maple trees
And faith lives on the horizon of my newfound world
Sailing on in with new beauty, new awe, new chances
Surfing towards me from tomorrow’s distance
The only buoy for a poet’s heart

(poetry workbook excercise)

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Daily I Affirm Me

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 11:19:18 PDT

I write beautiful poetry that hugs the soul,
enlightens the mind, and tugs the heart.
I am a poet who writes with vibrant light and magnificent sound.
I write both moving and socially conscious poetry and prose.
I am growing; mentally, spiritually, and intellectually every day.
Every day I am shifting and enlarging like a mental amoeba.
My conscious is very awake and aware,
as I absorb life using all of my senses and intuitions.
My conscious is the canvas upon which I splatter and splash,
my words are the colorful paints.

(It is said, “affirmations - will put you in touch with both inner and outer resources that will bring to you the experiences you want, sometimes in surprising and even immediate ways. Repeat them to yourself every day.” These are just the beginning on my list that I will recite to myself everyday)

Writing Poetry from the Inside Out
Author: Sandford Lyne
(I love my kindle!)

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Scarlet Letter

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Fri, 15 Apr 2011 17:02:29 PDT

While sitting in a bottle neck
Of traffic waiting for the
Light to change

I noticed that there were
some anti-abortion protesters
Parading in front of another newly built,
Grand Temple of the Planned
Parenthood Federation

A place that housed
Their malicious beasts of death
Where they are known to be ferociously greedy for
The blood of our unborn children

These protesters looked past
Their subtle clinical décor
And they saw this place as a
Sacrificial shrine or altar
To the Baal God of fertility
That caused people in biblical
days to throw their
Children in the fire
In order to worship
This pagan deity

These people knew
That this was a house
Of slaughter and the décor
Was only put in place to disguise
Their moral sins
it was put there to pretty
Up a place meant for killing
Children and butchering Fetus

Or what I call god’s blessings
We will pay just dues for our moral regressions
And our dues for our sinful transgressions

But, out of all the protesters
One stood out to me
She was the shortest of the four
She stood about five foot three
And her hair was totally gray
She held a sign that covered
All of her small framed body
It was only the top of her tiny head that peeked out
Above the sign and her sign read
“I Regret I Had an Abortion”

Now out of all of them
I could identify with her
Because to protest because of
Your heartfelt opinions and beliefs is a noble thing
But to protest because of your life
Experience, well that gets my total respect!

I could relate because
“I too, regret that I had an abortion”
I regret it now
But before that day
I was an earnest member of the pro-choice religion
And I was down for the rights of all women
And this was the attitude
I carried with me that day
I walked in holding it
Like a high fashion designer purse
I went in to the clinic
Grateful that I lived
In a country

Where women had a VOICE! & Where women had a CHOICE!

But on the other side of that fence
I didn’t realize that there resides
A mental prison
One I would be locked in
One that held part my psyche captive
And in captivity I would remain in
Locked up with the shackles of my guilt
While I wore the robe of my sin and
On my chest there was my badge of shame
And this badge was hand sewn into my robe
Like the scarlet letter
And yes it was
Red in color
Dipped in the blood
Of my fetus and it was held
Together by the threads of
My disgrace and it is there for everyone
To see
My scarlet letter is a A!
A For the Act of Abortion
And it is a symbol
Of my participation
And my role as a ritual prostitute
Aiding in the use my offspring as an offering
To the false god Baal of the pagans
And isn’t this just another right of all women, American?

To offer up our fetus to the Planned Parenthood Federation
Why, we are lining up with our designer purses and high priced heels giving daily donations Dismembering our unknown relations, using a vacuum machine by week 12 gestation Marching them into these clinics or fetal death camps of concentration Its happening all around the world, in my neighborhood and throughout my nation

To my gender I make this plea,
I ask you to think before you take this idol god your offering
Think before you harm the weakest link of all those living
Think of the massive weight of the shame, the guilt and you will be the carrier Displaying upon your chest, this blood stained scarlet letter

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Piano Talks

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 23:27:27 PDT

Ebony and Ebony
Like ivory keys the dialogue
Bounces harmoniously
in a mellow tune
softly swelling
it rises up
then down to a single key
questioning me
"Yes", I say
It is this music that charms my reason
And bores to the
Core of my ear drums
Like a well written
Musical score for a
Warmish conventional at home scene
Of a couple
As they were having their
Thousandth and some
And some
Conversation

About a not new
family topic that
must have an obvious
But understandable outcome
And, I play her
As I listen
To his words
I interpret his body
He is weary
From work’s defeat
Because
Work always wins
And his concerns
For that day
In that moment
Are their piano talks
Their musical interludes
For their daily walk
as they watch the
landscapes of life
pass them by

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Poem: This Earth

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Thu, 31 Mar 2011 06:31:26 PDT

It is not this Earth
Not these trees
Not these starter homes seized or
Windows boarded up by those diseased hands
covered with cankerous sores oozing greed

It is not this land
Or these mountains
Or their depopulation plans
To disband our tribes and all our clans
Or even their flu vaccination demands

It is not these seas
These seas, that are oily
Full of chemical debris
Murky like a chocolate tea
Thickly coating their Louisiana wings
Fins, and shells seeping deep into
Their respiratory air wells

It will not be these Franken-foods
Or any of your instant chicken broods
And not those hybrids you call
Veggies and fruits

You must take the seals off of your eyelids
And get organic minded glasses
But you will die when you see those prices
And if you buy your own seeds
Guess what? You will be cited

It wont be these genocides
Where a rebel’s military weapon is
A three year old girl’s raping along with
Mass killings of Sudanese bodies
in piles that lie on the steps of congress
But they cant see their burning huts
in those death villages because their faces are
Covered with red tape and their
Hands are tied, trying not to
Commit an obvious political suicide

It will not be this Earth
Not these trees
Not these crystal meth zombies
Who are trying to bring ease
To the cancers that erode their psyches
Like a swarm of locust eradicating
All their gifts and all their heartfelt promises

It will not be this Earth
Because
We shall move on
From these situations
And their complications

And this is not our cities
And these are not our lakes
And these are not our finance committees
And child this is not your worth
And it is not this Earth, Not this Earth

(As you can see from the first post, it is not complete. I have to fill it in. Will send that one in the weeks to come. I am truly sorry for the mixup today.)

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Check out music from Akili Amina's Poetry

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Tue, 22 Mar 2011 08:27:32 PDT

Monroe Chapel

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Sun, 06 Mar 2011 20:55:01 PST

Probably, like most of you
I come from a fine family
Full of believers, Pastors
Preachers, Deacons

FULL of men and women
who chose to forfeit the will of
THEIR lives for HIS

And undoubtedly, there are some
Of you who had praying grandmothers
aunties, uncles, and church
family members
Who saw you through some
Tough times

And aren’t we blessed
To have such souls
In our lives?

Unlike you though, I grew up
going to a tiny church
In a very small town
Back In the deep woods of
South Carolina and it was
called, Monroe Chapel

My dad was the pastor
And my mom was by his side
Me and my two sisters
Sung a three part
Harmony
While he bang out
The keys
On the piano
And he would
Always stomp his
Foot very wildly
To the beat

We were clapping and clapping
and clapping and clapping
To his preacher man tunes and his country boy rhythms
And It seemed as if the building
Was about to fall into pieces
From all the foot stomping
From all that 'glory to god' shouting
From all that catching the spirit
And I don’t know how many
Shoes was worn out by that
BUT
That spirit was as contagious
As a any spring cold
Except it was just Us
getting a glorious touch
Of what must be
That EVERLASTING life

It filled us all,
Even the children
Like me who allowed
Tears to moisten
My brown cheeks
When at that time
I had no explanation
why
Nobody told me
Why I had the urge to
Do what the grown folks did
Dancing the holy dance
Praying and speaking faith
To all my friends and kin
You ain't too young!

And, our church back then
Was bursting to the roof
With "Thank You Jesus"
And all the walls were
Painted with "Amens!"
Whenever he was
preaching

We sung songs to god
To let him know
That we would hold
On till things got better
Or until he comes to
Take us home

“Chile I'm Holding on to god’s hands”
That is what all those
Women in white would
Were constantly speaking
While they worked those
Funeral home fans
Trying to get relief
From that prickly
South Carolina heat

I guess you could say that
We were were very
animated at Monroe Chapel

Please, You could hear us
down the road
and some of the
neighbors said
they didn’t have to
come the church
because they
could sit in their
houses and
hear the whole
service

They would sometimes
meet us in the church
yard afterwards
just as if they had actually attended
the meeting
which I guess
they did in their hearts

Its been awhile since I
have seen this pillar
that laid the foundation
of Christianity for me

And many miles separate me
Away from Monroe chapel now
And many years set us apart
But I will always remember
How I was taught to
Take it to Jesus
And how we were
Baptized by the holy ghost
or how we told stories
of how god showed
the devil who was boss
While we took
Our cares to
That old rugged
Cross

The weeds and brush
Cover Monroe Chapel because
All the caretakers have went
To that other side

At ten I met Jesus
There and so often
We have talked
On my bended knees
Or on my bedroom
Floor with my limbs
Stretched out
Doing my best just
To lean on him

When in this life sometimes
It seems as if there
are no crystalline skies
No doors that are willing to open
No end to fake friends
No escape from temptations relentless pursuing
No one that has time to really…Listen
No one thing that is tangible to anchor my soul

Nothing, like what I know now
And what I learned back then
That If you can believe,
There is nothing…… to difficult…
…for HIM

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One Word: Rapture

akiliamina@gmail.com (Akili Amina) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 21:30:49 PST

We fly then we fly
Until we reach the peak
Of our manifestation
The summit of this love

We make music and
rhythms of heaves in sounds
of beautiful energy
giving it back to the earth

we land butterfly kisses so light
as they seal our hearts

And rest our souls
Upon a bed made of
Feathers from white doves

If there was a word,
It would be: rapture

We lie half drunk and half high
From our drink of passion’s whiskey
stirred with slumber’s chase

Our bodies are the magnificent manifestation
And the Sun crested summit of this love

You want more butterfly kisses
I want to lie still

You send them to my neck
And my Cheek
but they bloom
In my soul
And burn in the
Pages of my memories

There are no arms
Deeper than yours
No safer place for
My spirit to fly free

You wriggle closer and closer
Pull the cover over me
To keep away the chill
And you ask me am I alright
I say yes, baby

But I would like for you to be still

(inspired by poem "I Like For You To Be Still" by Pablo Neruda)

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