onomato-blah blog

2013-02-21T19:56:00.004-08:00

im afraid of the consequences living in a world i dont agree with ,

bashing my head,
in circular motion
to unwash the brain,
of any standards
i may have picked up
that
arnt my own,

learning,
unlearning.

reluctant prophet...

2012-09-24T14:17:00.001-07:00

were all divine.
wont you make up your mind.

my fate be falling into my lap,
i play hot potatoe
and throw it right back.
not my responsability anymore.
while you live with glass eyes, let me ignore.

my fate be falling into my lap
i play hot potatoe
and throw it right back.

2012-07-31T21:07:00.004-07:00

early morning lullaby's,
for all those not yet tucked in.
waiting to see the dew grace abandoned strands of grass,and if walked on with naked feet, it can be mistaken for the ocean.
these resistance pieces of precipitation, used to magnify
early
morning
lullaby's.

new.art.

2012-04-09T18:25:00.000-07:00

i switched my medium.
tainted fleshy canvases of souls uncontrolled.
i scribbled with love,
the pen was too sharp so the canvas dripped blood.

love is, the most dangerous medium.

trailer treasure

2012-03-19T15:44:00.001-07:00

eyewish.

2012-03-19T15:25:00.000-07:00

i told you that i wrote list.
and at first encounter you became an addition
"beautiful people" i labeled it.
drawing acute triangles and obtuse intersecting angles around names in geometry class.
updating it hoping nobody would peak over my shoulder,
asking to see my paper intrigued by a foreign form of wild style.
criss cross apple sauce,
in too small school desk,
using your old converse as a canvas,
as your laugh as splatter paint.
your presence the gallery
and you would stay around,
demanding no pay.
thank you.

but how i wish i told you i wrote list.
i hope you wrote them too.

if i could give advice to my 16 year old self, i wouldn't say a thing...

2012-03-05T13:14:00.000-08:00

Malaika Clements

12/11/07

4^TH Period

Narrative in the Life of Malaika Clements

Chapter 1

Life is an obstacle course filled with monkey bars and seesaws .There’s work but there’s also fun. There’s up’s but there are also some downs. I personally consider my life to be made up of solely up’s. Life is what you make it and if you take all the obstacles you have overcome and learn to look at them with an appreciative eye then you are sure to come out a stronger, happier person.

Since the day I was born I have been fortunate enough to be supported with caring people who only want me to truly experience life. Both my parents being products of the late 50’s have seen their share of struggle. They marched for equality during the black power movement and dealt with stigma’s that often seem like they were stamped on the forehead of young blacks at the time. However both my parents wanted knowledge and when the opportunity came for my father to go to Swaziland as a volunteer he took it. Later on after meeting my mother in Atlanta they both took a trip to Africa together. My father once told me that that when he was growing up going to Africa felt like an obligation. He felt that he needed to know as much as possible about his history and experience his culture.

I myself was born in Harare , Zimbabwe and lived there for the first four years of my life. Though I was young the Africa I remember is not much like the Africa I often have seen on television. The Africa I remember was one of swimming pools, lavish birthday parties and catching lightning bugs at dusk. However even at my young age I was not ignorant that everyone did not have a pool in their backyard. I once remember going to my housekeeper, Auntie Joyce, one bedroom tattered house with the room lit only by sunlight and thinking this is not how they should be living. Then she smiled as she handed me an orange from a brown fruit basket on her table and these thoughts quickly went away. She shouldn’t be living…happy? This was the first time I realized that you don’t need things to be happy. You simply need fruit and someone to share it with.

Chapter 2

When I came to live in the United States I was overwhelmed by all the family we had here. There were cousins, aunts, uncles, even grandparents that I never remembered seeing, yet they all knew my name; embracing me for the simple fact that I was family.

The one person who stood out the most was the tall mocha colored fellow with jet black hair, a big nose and a reseeding hairline; my granddad, Walter. He sounded smooth like a harmonica he always kept in hand and smelt of red peppermints. He would often randomly burst out into song having either his harmonica, recorder or trusty guitar as his sidekick. Everyone agreed that he was indeed the life of the party.

Years passed and I got to know my granddad better. I learned that he was a lawyer, a graduate from Morehouse at the same time of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., an artist, and a musician. However, he never told me any of this. I probably heard that he graduated from school at the age of 17 from family members that pass through or that he played at night clubs from his friends who frequently came through the house, but he never told me. He didn’t have to. We instead talked about me…how my day was, what did I want in life. Even if I answered with something ridicilous, like a beekeeper he would nod his head in agreement, then help plot out a plan of being the best beekeeper I could be.

You could tell by the way he discussed politics with my father that he was a lawyer. You could listen to how he painted a picture with his words and tell that he was an artist, and you could close your eyes and hear the fortes and pianos in his tone when he talked and tell that he was a musician.

In the winter of 2007 my granddad passed. It was a shock to know that someone so cheerful could be gone. I didn’t cry…not at first. I laughed at the memories. I laughed at how we would walk downtown and find a man playing the saxophone in the park and how he would get out his recorder to chime in. I laughed at how he would tell corny jokes and how everyone would laugh not because they were funny, but because his presence simply made you smile. Then when I realized he was gone…I cried.

His funeral was held in Detroit on a cold, yet sunny December morning. Snow was on the ground yet it was warm enough outside to touch it without gloves on just before going inside. The outcome was amazing. Every seat was taken and any floor space not blocking people’s views was equally crowded.

As the ceremony went on I heard stories about my granddad. Every singly one had humor in it and though I was not there during many of these stories I felt like I was present. Knowing that these complete strangers all had the same appreciation for my granddad that I had really hit home. I only saw him once a year, usually in the summer until his death, but he still influenced me and all the others who he came into contact with. Some of those people had only met him that year while others have known him his whole life.

I then pondered to myself what made him such a wonderful person. It was his truth in his character. I then knew that I as well always wanted to remain true. Not to have a hundred people at my funeral, or my name in the newspaper, but simply to be able to put a smile on a person’s face every time I came to mind.

Chapter 3

All in all I cannot complain about anything. I have food to eat, a roof over my head, and water to drink. I choose to look on the positive side of life because I realized that every experience teaches a lesson and makes an even better story.

Today I am sixteen years of age and have learned quite a bit for my age. But most importantly I have learned that I do not know much at all. People, place and things are always changing. You can’t always take life so literally.

The lessons that I have learned, however, are constant. They are lessons of acceptance, hope, and truth. They are lessons of life.

will work

2011-07-15T14:23:00.000-07:00

a photo collage of the lovely charnelle, who after battling cancer is now raising funds via clothing and jewelry line . i believe she is now working on a website where some of the photos that i took will be displayed, ill link it when its done.ill also add some more of the set to my flickr..eventually.

pumped up kicks

2011-07-14T07:07:00.000-07:00

one of my favorite stores in atlanta is criminal records. here i can browse the newest musical releases for hours as if the years 1969, and you have no access to internet, and catch weekly in store performances for the freeski. a couple weeks ago "foster the people" dropped by to preform before their show at the masquerade, and preformed a 4-5 song set before heading over to the venue. i must admit i have never heard about them until my weekly store lurking,so i had no idea how they looked, or what their fan base was, i just know as soon as i put on those black headphones i was immediately hooked, and on the day of the in store performance quickly learned that many people felt the same way.sooomanypeople.rarely have i witnessed a line to get in the door at the record store, but with this group makes perfect sense.not only do they vibe,but the trio are all very pretty men,.i really appreciate the fact that they dont have their faces on their cover of their album,their music moves so much more.

ive never

2011-05-31T22:28:00.000-07:00

been afraid to be a leader. just scarred that people would follow. ...leaders aren't always meant to be followed,sometimes there there to inspire the people to follow themselves.

that nu nu

2011-05-17T23:24:00.000-07:00

a video from keith charles from a song off the recently released album before common era. i look forward to his progression.

familiar stranger

2011-05-17T23:09:00.000-07:00

i met this man on the train a while back in nyc. he sat there contently with a shopping cart filled with tree branched. i immediately wanted to know his story, and after a bit of observation and an "i dare you" from my friends i worked up enough courage to approach him. "can i take your picture?"i simultaneously asked while sitting down making myself comfortable he smiled warmly and did not seem to mind. "i used to have a camera like that" he informed me as i took his picture. though im pretty sure he failed to realize it was a lazy digital. i talked to him for a while and he shared stories of his childhood,and about his dad being a photographer. i also learned that he used to be a mall santa clause, born in ipanema, and from our convo a beautiful person.

blah blah blah

2011-05-15T08:30:00.000-07:00

lalala..beautiful life.
kiss me and make me know im alive.

i think im inspired by hate.
i make hate list and write hate songs
and plan out my day based upon what i hate.
im never bored because i hate plenty.

i hate that you destroy
i hate that you dont see your beauty
i hate how you second guess yourself.
i hate that you don't know its possible.
i hate the way you ask for approval.
i hate how you harm yourself.
i hate that you don't demand the best.
i hate these inflicted perimeters you live by
i hate that your comfortable
and hate that you stand still
i hate that..i am a hater
i have loads of hate.

and love you
so.
this life i love
this world i love
this universe i love
im never bored because i love all.

so i try to build all up
expose all beauty
give confidence
make beliefs
teach trust
show love.

i try to...
be inspired by hate.
and act out of love

quote

2011-04-25T18:44:00.000-07:00

"don't be afraid to make your choice your only option"

-malaika aminata

i plan

2011-04-24T20:56:00.000-07:00

to have a venue one day, and once a week dr.buzzard's original savannah band will be in rotation all night!their music tickles my fancy like no other, like no freakinn other.

*smiles and sways to beat uncontrollably*

lately

2011-04-23T20:19:00.000-07:00

shes been my life.

definishion

2011-04-23T20:03:00.000-07:00

v.lilt·ed, lilt·ing, lilts

v.tr.

To say, sing, or play (something) in a cheerful, rhythmic manner.

v.intr.

1. To speak, sing, or play with liveliness or rhythm.

2. To move with lightness and buoyancy.

[From Middle English lulten, lilten, to sound an alarm.]

thrift bus

2011-04-23T19:21:00.000-07:00

so in school i take this journalism class. its funny because the same things i am now asked to do for a grade,i have always done. talking to strangers,observing what brings them joy, and learning about the world in the process.last week at the farmers market i came across a lady with a thrift store bus, here is her story.

you can also find her here

i dont

2011-04-23T18:31:00.000-07:00

apologize much.

i have nothing to be sorry for.

no words said

can break hearts that haven't already been broken

no deeds done can shatter dreams, that have not already been given up on.

pick your scabs

and blame me when i remove the plastic band aid that hid an unhealed wound

for now its not pretty

refuse peroxide

get infected,

no antibacterial

and pretend it doesn't hurt

have him kiss it twice

play games in your mind

to make yourself think its alright.

and believe it.

and when the band aid falls off

pretend its a new scar

blame him.

dont heal.

blame me.

take pills.

and for my actions,i wont apologize

but for you,

im really really sorry.

bailar chiki chiki

2011-04-19T21:20:00.000-07:00

last week i attended the spring concert for the morgan state university modern dance ensemble.twas a pretty good show, but beyond that, i got it.if i could only name 3 things that moved me dance would be on the list. i understand that language

and appreciate those who speak it.

network - mad as hell scene

2011-04-18T12:53:00.000-07:00

machinedrum - whatchuthinkin (feat. tombe lockhart)

2011-04-16T16:39:00.000-07:00

i havent really been digging for music like i used to, but over the last couple of days this has seemed to change. i find myself researching. listening, and learning again.a friend mentioned an artist to me a few months back...though i listened to the song and video he sent i never dug deep into her sound, today i did, and this is what i found.

quote

2011-04-16T10:01:00.000-07:00

"purpose is overwhelming. it takes your breath away, and clogs your throat. unable to speak, you think...to clear your mind, you do. "

miss jack davey/state your claim

2011-04-13T22:44:00.000-07:00

so i have been trying to see the lovely folks of j*davey preform for the last four years,luckily my desires finally came to fruition, and i got to witness them, a couple other good acts, and a slick dj set just in time for some much needed inspiration. for that i am thankful.

dj k-meta

mia!

regard my face (taken by diante)

unplug

2011-04-13T20:41:00.000-07:00

deactivating your facebook may be one of the funniest things in the world. once you press the deactivate button you are asked if you are sure about leaving, followed by pictures of your loved with the words"shabooka will miss you, sara will miss you, xyz will miss you"written under their photos,as if your planning your own funeral or something.if you go through with the process, you are then sent an email,that says..you have deactivated your facbeook, to sign back in all you have to do is log in as you regularly do, and everything will be back to normal,....do you want to log in?and boom! there's a big button with a link that sends you straight to the homepage.it really is quite amusing and mildly frightening.

i figured i would deactivate mine and utilize this here blogith of mine more often.i want to write letters on fancy paper in my ever changing penmanship.practice the four letters that make up d-e-a-r twenty plus times before i get it the way i really like.i adore postcards, and the endangered art of calligraphy.

i dig pretty stamps, and that bitter sweet taste of envelope glue.i admire the effort put in, and the pursuit of it all.

and treasure the thought.

that it must be sent from

love,