K. In today’s world of entertainment, where we can watch re-runs of “I Love Lucy” and “Bernie Mac”… move to sound bites of Michael Jackson and James Brown…glance at images of Marilyn Monroe and Joan Crawford…you find what society calls legend. Frankly, you find what I call “The Dead”. They are not your ancestors. Yet, something about them inspires our minds and keeps us moving in the direction set forth by the world we live in and the ‘way’ this world would like you to be.

L. In today’s more competitive educational institutions, where we study classics…striving to scribe like Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, and Zora Neale Hurston…yearning to philosophize like Socrates, Plato, and Augustine of Hippo… attempting to re-build human resources on the ideas of Karl Marx…wanting to solve calculated problems like Albert Einstein…there you will find “The Dead”. And somehow, our minds have been programmed to place our souls at ease at the mere mention of their names. Yet, at the idea of calling on the name and learning from the ways of our OWN ancestors, we tread slowly with fear and trembling. Why?

When you can, click the link below and check out the promo for my latest documentary. I will keep you all posted on upcoming screenings!

http://www.innarae.com/documentary.htm

Bless you,
innarae

F. It is fact that most of the estimated 12 million African slaves who worked on US soil were bought and sold as property – not transported as human beings to provide a service.

G. The complex psychology of being owned, exploited, and treated as inferior to our peddlers became a core part of our identity – passed down over the generations. In many cases, because our physical use translated directly into dollar amounts on a sale, we grew to believe that our inner powers – invisible to a world of oppressors – were of little to no value. Sankofa can take you on a journey to gather what wealth resided in you before your sole (or soul) merit equaled what you could provide a slave master. It will help you in begging the question, Were you “fearfully and wonderfully made” before or after confessing Jesus Christ as your Savior?

One of my late and dearest Nana’s, Garnette Lawson, once said, Try livin’ out the better part of 87 years dealin’ with colored church folks, and then ask me again why I’m tired. Today, I am hearing her loud and clear (and chuckling, of course).

But, for the fear I see in the eyes of my Christian sisters when I speak of what I do, I feel compelled to write something to help lead us all to an understanding of why the term Sankofa means much to the spirit of African American people.

A. Sankofa is a word derived from the West African Culture, which means “go back and take”. It implores us to see that it is never too late to go back to the past to reclaim something lost or forgotten. It’s broad and can cover a multitude of forgotten issues, items, money, stories, proverbs and medicine for the conscious mind that heals the soul and spirit.

(A 13-year-old Yemen bride, violently raped by husband and died)

I am in still in this world, remembering your darkness just before sun rises.
I tighten my fists
Because I seek, yet cannot find
the outrage, sorrow, declaration of war against demons
who steal the souls
from young vessels such as you:
My future, your mother’s blood,
Your father’s pride

I light a match to burn incense, to dance, to pray in your honor.
And for the thirty seconds it takes
the small flame to burn out the stem,
I say, LET THERE BE LIGHT …
ON WHATEVER THE FUCK DID YOUR HUSBAND WANT FROM YOU, CHILD?
Let the entire world see that though we eat and be merry
Herein lies an evil irresistible forbidden fuck
That cannot be denied the ONE who wills to be GOD – and hates that he can’t.

Like humanoids of my current land
Who won’t stop thrusting phallic thingamabobs
Down into glory of marine life, its wet waters
…who desperately hunt for slick lubricated coolness,
Auspicious futures, a buxom bottom line…
…they rape our 13-year old girls differently

I shed tears and wail for as long as it takes amber glowing tip of incense stick to burn out…

Couldn’t stop my ears
To the ringing welcome
Of my ancestral father, arms open wide
Skin?... onyx
Soaking up the sun,
shining like silk n’
fired-smooth charcoal crystals
against a bright – aqua – blue kanga
bowing his head toward my womb
rising with a shout
“AY-LO, AY-LO!”

Couldn’t shut my eyes
mesmerized
by the alabaster enamel gate
In, behind his lips....

Click link below to read the rest... Enjoy!
http://innaraethepoet.wordpress.com/african-brother-in-philly/

Favorite Lyrics in this rap:

"And since we all came from a woman, got our name from a woman, and our game from a woman - I wonder why we take from our women, why we rape our women, do we hate our women. I think it's time to kill for our women, time to heal our women, be real to our women. And if we don't we'll have race of babies that will hate the ladies, that make the babies.. and since a man can't make one, he has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one."

Enjoy!

Today, every day, we celebrate one love
Caramelized by raw attraction, fire that cannot
Be duplicated, recreated, labeled by strange spirits
Who know nothing of what we share
One love…is always…there

Not found in remote reflections of saintly martyrs
Made up, said, written down as dying for whatever
Small white cupid dolls and mass marketed
Greeting cards tell, marriage papers can’t bear
It’s always there

Where my baked brown skin
Lights up his day,
Captivates, seduces by night
Deep, dark intellect sheltered from sight
So what? You can’t control it?
Don’t mean it ain’t right
Look, see it, grab, reach it, we goin’ somewhere
One love…is always…there

Where kinks in my hair meet
Bulging bones in his back
Where I rest weary arms
His legs pick up the slack
Where blue blood in his veins
Whet the scent of my womb
Slippin’ in – he discovers ‘we’
Nurtures it to full bloom

It’s about 6°
Too cold to do as I imagine:
Barefoot on dry, dusty brown top soil
Circling down into a kneeling posture
Giving thanks for a waning moon

Not even the brightest day in late December
Could overwhelm her ‘showing out’ in full form
Creator of Stars, Fiery Light reminds us
That what is offered to shine, must

Pulling of returning tidal waves
Settling tree roots call forth
My blood, my water, my memories,
My pain, my wearied sugar drops

So I peel the skin off of tiny round Clementines
Mandarin-sweet scents, sour juices
Clearing down my throat when
Great Mother Emaline nudges the
Left side of my brain

A cleaning fury comes over me
Stern broom sticks
To sweep over
Warped wooden floors
Spilled bread crumbs,
Last night’s collard cuttings n’
Bad energy shedding
Off, away and out
Of my present
My home
My womb

Later, I know the dream

See and hear what spiritual Jamaicans have to say about how this practice is linked to the slave trade, abuse of Christianity, capitalism and white western illusion. To see a documentary worth watching...click below and click on 'see film'.

http://www.documentary-film.net/search/video-listings.php?e=80

Bless,
InnaRae

Doing some self-work this week and thought to share this with you all!
Enjoy...

1. You have a right to make mistakes. That doesn't mean it is OK to blame others for them -- it is important for you to take responsibility for your mistakes yourself. Blaming them on others is a form of aggression.

2. You have a right to change your mind. Otherwise, you'd be stuck with your mistakes forever.

3. You have a right to be illogical in making decisions. Whether they are aware of it or not, this is a right many people exercise regularly!

4. You have the right to judge your own behavior, your thoughts, and your emotions. No one else, regardless of who they are or how close they may be to you, can know what it is like to live in your life-space. Therefore, no one else is in a position to judge your behavior, thoughts, or emotions with your perspective. Keep in mind, though, that this means you have an obligation to take responsibility for your actions.

Legend tells of a renagade,
of a horse no one could tame.
Her sire was the devil himself,
Wild Thing was her name.