Thursday, December 19, 2013

Nature 10/15/13

From the Wordsmith Project

I walk along the sands of time
Rummaging through old photos
Me & trees
Me & the ocean
Sorrow grips my heart
I begin to slip and fall apart
Honor seeps through my pores
As I fall to the forest floor
Doors open windows to my soul
Spoiling the moment
A spider steps into my view
Chewing over old thoughts
Like spoiled meat
I decide to let go
And let the Universe take control
I smile as a single shaft of sunlight
Strays through momentous green leaves
Shadows block the sun
But in the moment I am
Done with my sadness
A flutter of wings
This red headed woodpecker sings
A promise of better things to come

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Crevice

You put up a bed in my mediastinum
Told me in your best voice
How your love would be platinum
I sat down on the mattress
Expecting your best
Understanding your humanity
Would also include "the rest"
But the element I did not expect
Was you behind bars
For countless years
Tears for days
And fears only serve to
Dismay
I replay the words of that night
Frightened sometimes to turn on
The light
Truth remains
I love you in ways
I never imagined possible

Refusal

In response to her words...

I refuse to feel responsible
For your inability
to effectively articulate
Your emotional state
Anticipate the words
So far unheard
Instead reading the vibration
Of your skin

I refuse to accept neglect
The rejection
As you shove me off you
one more time
Allowing the rhyme
In the surface of your soul
To take control over me

I refuse to allow
Our silent magnetism
To continue to be
Our entire story
The glory of the conquest
Rests in the clean laundry
That is always waiting
On your chase lounge

I could hunt you down
But I would find your scent
lingering in the air
You
No longer there
So instead I'll be over here
Waiting for your call

Ash

In response to her words...

"It is not that I wait for you, its that my arms are doors I cannot close." Derrick Brown.

I shake like ash through your open fingers
Singing strains
Melodic compositions
Whistling to myself
Inside the hum of the vaccuum cleaner
It sucks me in
Alters my demeanour
It is harder to connect with people
These days
It is not my fault
I was born with such a high IQ
You seemed to notice
I was different
The first time you looked into my eyes
My thighs are also a place
I love to hate
Collection of fat cells
No one who eats this much broccolli
Would ever anticipate
Weight
The space on my chest
Is like a landing strip for pain
Dumping hatred on me
Seems easier for some
Than embracing the Sun
We all have light within

Thighs

In response to her...

I wish I could make her believe
Her thighs are beautiful
I want her to see
The power of her words
Does not erase the straight lines
Emblazoned across her thighs
But it certainly
Enables one to see
She has a story that redeems
A brain that truly gleams
And magnetizes me
Straight lines find more space for a story
Makes me want to know
Your pain and your glory
And I know life with you
Would never be boring
Wake up from the snoring
Of the ordinary
Coffee is served
And you are the truth

"Death By Society"

In response to her words...

It seems strange to me
That society has a proprietary need
To organize people into shapes and things
Wrap them with bows
And tie them with strings
Tell them how to be
And discard what is not
Pretty enough or
Thin enough
Sexual enough or
Witty enough
But it's rough
Trying to maintain a poker face
With elegant and matchless grace
And not turn into a chaotic mess
But no matter what
The Doctor will say
We have a pill for this
Bliss is not something we can swallow
And I'm not saying one should
Wallow in their misery
But at what point will we allow ourselves to feel and articulate
Every emotion that we breathe?

Wonder

In response to her words...

I wonder if my lover realizes
how beautiful she is
That no amount of gauze wrapped wrists
Can take away the presence of intelligence
No amount of pain can erase
The sparks that radiate from her eyes
Every time I say hello
I wonder if my lover knows
Just how beautiful she truly is

Raptor

In response to her words...

Ice sculpture frozen in the distance...
offers no resistance
To the constant stream of my persistance
Delicate
Every line in his feature
Eagle beak screaming
He feels I am demeaning him
Every time I observe
A trait in his demeanour
Screaming sounds
This bird of prey
I am a raptor
And he is a safe place to land
He does not understand
The command of my presence
or the resonance
Of my feathers in the wind
His skin is cold

Styrofoam: the lightest Weapon of mass destruction


 

Introduction:

            You wake up in the morning and stretch. Next you fill your lungs with a deep breath of benzene, your favorite carcinogen. You choose to engage a headache and actively decide to suffer gastro-intestinal pain. You honor the use of a resource that cannot be renewed and all that you do increases the waste on the face of this planet. The ozone is affected drastically and the negative impact of your casual decision is hundreds of years in the creation. This is the weight of every Styrofoam cup you use, every Styrofoam take away container you choose to take from your favorite restaurant and every Styrofoam plate casually discarded after its use on family pizza night.

Transition: So many people do not realize the detriment of Styrofoam upon our ecosystem.

I.                   Styrofoam is very dangerous for our environment.

A.    It affects our ozone, our health, and our marine waterways with a large negative impact.

B.     One of its main components Benzene is a registered carcinogen.

Transition: There are solutions to the problems that Styrofoam creates.

II.                There are two major areas of focus that would help us eliminate the environmental burden Styrofoam creates.

A.    We should choose to no longer use Styrofoam products.

B.     A Styrofoam eating bacterium was discovered to help remove the Styrofoam that exists already.

Transition: We are responsible to take care of this issue.

Conclusion:

            I have offered you the reasons why Styrofoam is dangerous. I have shown you that there are other solutions that are actually inexpensive and feasible in today’s economy. I have introduced you to the realization that a bacterium exists to remove it from our planet. One person can make a difference. Through my actions I was able to get the Provost of our Clearwater Campus to agree not to allow the CafĂ© to carry Styrofoam products any longer. Imagine if we could get MacDonald’s, Burger King, and some of the larger chains to get on board. We could encircle the Earth a whopping four hundred and thirty six times a year with Styrofoam coffee cups alone. Imagine what that means if all other Styrofoam products were included in that data? We are killing our planet! We have a responsibility to change the world around us. I must insist you take action. Cease using Styrofoam today!

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Harmony

I think in frequency
I love to think of you frequently
You and I make harmony
In the flesh we are two
At soul level we are one
Earth to the Sun
May the river run
Undefeated
The trepidation of the soil
Seeds planted
Water boiled
Using an obstacle
As an advantage
Another harmonic cleft
What is left
As we are stated so clearly
Perception misunderstood
Even if a heart's intention is good
Moods change
Thoughts rearrange
Familiar becomes strange
And we forge our way
Forward
Water ways
Thesis estranged
And we arise to greet the day
Waves in my Wu Wei
Cause my surroundings to change
Days gone by
This my construct
That rises
Because of the obstruction
Ideas surface
And dissolve in the wind
When can we do this again?

Robbery

This rapist sits there mocking me
My piano keys speak volumes
Issues my words alone
Could never proclaim
Watching me
Their power hungry mockery
But I'm scholarly
Fighting off their attacks
With my pen as a weapon
Stepping in
These fools wish to settle in
I hold my grin
For a time that is just right
There could be no "us"
Without "them"

Owl

I follow the lines his eyes make
Jet black and large
Like the eyes of the owl
That guides me to safety
Loving him satiates me
Mostly because I know it is not easy
It pleases me
To be there when he calls
I fall on my knees
In front of my piano keys
Allowing the melody I make
To carry my pain away
I give more than most are able
But I claim fulfillment
From the Universal Flow
Only Nature knows
How my breast can heave
Late at night
In my home alone
Tears weave their fearful cry
Into my hair
As I release the sigh
The heavy weight
Lands on my chest
And for a moment
I am bereft
Clefting minor keys
The power of my destiny
Soothes me
Back into harmony
the Sun rises
The warmth of it surprises
Even the coldest parts of me
But here against my
Darkest sorrow
I hold in my palm
The promise of tomorrow
And not even the cleverest of lies
Can take that peace away from me

Satiate

I am testing the waters
This world that surrounds me
Mirrors of reflection
This particle wave that becomes me
Running eternal
This volition that moves me
Gleaning from the Universe
These emissions that infuse me

Corutous

Corutous is a Greek word that means- that which does not stand and disintegrates beneath its own weight due to lack of foundation.

Doors open
Perception changes
Psychic awareness
World rearranges
Wu Wei in the process
Of taking me places
The volition of life
Has me changing faces
Political awareness
Embolism rise
Looking for direction
From the Eastern skies
Wise beyond my clothing
But they use what I say
Take advantage of my heart
And hate all I've gained
But dissuaded I shall not be
Though mirroring my spirit
And if you're not listening
I shall not speak to hear it

Wallflower Purple

I am a conceptual misfit
Political problems
Is just the least of it
I speak the truth
Wear my heart on my sleeve
Put my face in the Mic
My story on the stage
In the space of two days
My whole life has changed
From owls in the trees
To tree frogs in my john
I must move on
He writing stories
In red ink on a yellow page
Another afraid to interrupt
These sacred words must be said
We have magnetized
Philosophers, poets, and a sage
From the purple of my shirt
To the brown of the table
The volition of my pen
Has me writing because I am able
Examples of our lives
May be misconceived
Perception from outside
May lead those to deceive
Hard pressed some are
To watch others fall
But I am here
To compose a brand new score
The harmony in my step
Has my Wu Wei along
And I firmly believe
We each have a song
I am volatile and ready
To roll through these changes
Transition through these
Evolutionary rearranges
Strangers dance
A southern two step
And once again
The Wallflower is left
Watching the world
Surrounding the color of her flower
Still ready to give love to anyone in need

Evolution

I move in undulating waves
Approaching my center
In circular impulsive motion
Oceans of thought
Rain falls from heavenly skies
Bartering with my demons
For more space in my soul
Controlling nothing
But allowing the impulses
Of an algorithmic universe
To Wu Wei me forward
This rhythmic motion is enough
To justify my need
To perpetuate my senses
Defenses falter
Under cold pressed thought
I am wrought and tempered
Like brand new silver
Slivers of doubt
Still cling to my fabric
But I am ready to become
All I am meant to be
Needless worry
Sorrow on my sleeve
I believe
In all I am
I am ready for all of this

Room to Grow

The stark white walls echo
Silent truths unspoken
Broken thoughts
Emulating hope
Fulfillment in our fantasies
Our driven spark rises
Truth over heartache
The path often takes
Building blocks of sorrow
Sparrows that fly
Carrying messages
Dressed in fabric
This royal robe
Confidence spoke
On a purple microphone
Any place can be home
If you feel less alone
Salty stains
On pillow cases
But my brain is laced
With strains of music
Only composed
To help us all know
There is always
Room to grow

Midnite Sky

She got on the bus
Anxious to leave Florida behind
In a state of exhausted funds
Anything is possible
Florida had not been kind
She was ready for the wheels
Of this bus
To cross the Georgia line
Sublime aspirations
Inspiration
Everything South Carolina
Would become
This transition of sky and sun
To tall pine trees and grass lands
To the rolling waves of Myrtle Beach
The juxtaposition of her
 Against the Florida sky
Grew into her against the ocean tide
Mind over matter
Emotions grew and exploded
Like stars against a midnite sky

Spark

I stand
Juxtaposed against the backdrop
The loud sound of the air
Condition
Listens to our pens as we write
In spite of all our difference
We understand the pain
And with vehemence we speak
Our eyes pour down like rain
Sun shine filled skin
We are remembering again
What it was like to be a child
Outside the circle of play
But what really matters
In this life
Is it the strongest
Or the loudest that survive?
My hair wants to fall down my back
In dreadlocks
Hers in curls
How does my hair
Affect their world?
I am your girl because
I am honest
I am your girl because
I am true
I am your girl because
I love water
How am I so different
From you?

Home to Me

You are the nipple of my spiritual joy
The concentration of my pain
You are the repetition in my rhetoric
I want to know you again and again and again

You are the sorrow in my slumber
You are the silver lining in my sky
I breathe deep the rain of you
One breath and I am high

You are the wisdom in my ethic
The suspense in my mystery
You are my long road to freedom
You are the reason I believe

You are the bullet in my weapon
You are the rhyme in my poetry
You are the Sun to the Earth I am
The culmination of our destiny

You are the mythos in my dogma
The rhythm in my step
You are the Patriot of my Country
You are the children we'll beget

You are all my eyes can see
Prismatic breath of nature's dream
You are all my soul could need
Would that I could
Bring you home to me

Ashley

 
Girl, you are about to give me a myocardial infarction
You got me sittin in my dark room listenin to a jazz tune
Shakin the film watchin this development
Watchin light and dark turn into something skeletal
Further as the time goes...
This skeleton is lookin better and
I'm hopin for a story I can shake a little glory in
Your eyes are simply glorious
Tell me what your morning is
Does the sun shine spectacular
You say your digging my vernacular
I love the way you dance for me
Like a sprite underneath a forest tree
See what you do to me
You say you find me interesting
Well please know I'm interested
I'm vesting my time to write this rhyme for you
So please don't decline my request to wine and dine with you
You say you speak the truth
Well so Do I
And this afternoon
Our banter made my spirit fly
You gave me back my butterflies
Have to admit it's been a while
Whether or not you wanna be my girl
I wanted you to know
I like your style

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Potentate

In between prismatic pages
Of potential feats
Lies the harmonics
Of individualized beats
I could not be the me I am
Without the you
You are to me
Angel wings
This set of strings
Speaks in 88 keys
I seize the moment
Try to freeze it and own it
Until I am truly free

Speak in hypotheticals
You may find my poetry whimsical
We can travel esoteric-al
Or we can find ourselves a seat

Near the foot of the tree of life
We speak to surpass our survival
It is time for revival
This new age that we seek

Rhythm to my heartbeat
Water to my eyelids
Bid your brain behavior
To become the what you need

Keys

In a courtyard of memories
I sit nursing my angel wings
Fallen from a sky
Some refuse to believe in
Stars comprise my only bones

Lonely stars are thrown
In the direction of my house
Lately I feel like Job
Good thing I am devout

I am shouting from my rooftop
Things we all should see
Some wanderers stop to listen
Only half of them believe

Perception is the value
Mathematically assigned
We stand still in notation
When all our stars align

Confined to fear's dark cages
We must return the key
The lock is hopeful, waiting
To be what sets us free

I am She who sits to listen
She who rises now to speak
She who has been destined
To give mankind the key

Home To Me

You are the nipple of my spiritual joy
The concentration of my pain
You are the repetition in my rhetoric
I want to know you again, and again and again

You are the sorrow in my slumber
You are the silver lining in my sky
I breathe deep the rain of you
One breath and I am high

You are the wisdom in my ethic
The suspense in my mystery
You are my long road to freedom
You are the reason I believe

You are the bullet in my weapon
You are the rhyme in my poetry
You are the Sun to the Earth I am
The culmination of our destiny

You are the mythos in my dogma
The rhythm in my step
You are the Patriot of my country
You are the children we'll beget

You are all my eyes can see
Prismatic breadth of nature's dream
You are all my soul could need
Would that I could bring you
Home to me!

Symbiotic

I find you utterly beautiful
And I am not referring to the
Beauty of your eyes
Or the texture of your smile
But the radiance that emanates
From the inside
I want you to size me up
Fill my cup
And vibrate me higher
I wanna go out on a limb with you
Drink you in
And take time digesting you
I want to speak the truth
And listen to the words inside of you
I want to know what turns you on
I want to understand the secret meaning of your favorite song
I want to stand on the other side of wrong
Wandering through the waters of your soul
All night long
I want to stand up
Sit down
Next to you
I want to be the thing
That brings out the best in you
I want to divest myself in you
Reverberate
Anticipate
And add more weight to you
I want to actively become the best of me
Still unafraid to expose the rest of me
Through loving you
We can fly free
I believe in this harmonic view
Me & you
Joy & truth
And I intend to wait in this space
Until I find
These words
Liberated and reflecting
In your eyes
Because the truth is
When I was in your arms that night
I knew there would be more to come
More Earth & Sun
More victory won
In the search
For honest love

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Escaping Silence


 

What does rape look like? In this hectic world, we often race by one another making no eye contact; offering no greeting. There are so many distracting factors to keep us from entertaining focus into anyone else’s life. I began to wonder how many of us would know what rape looked like. According to current statistics, Sherry Clester (Victim Advocate for Pinellas County Public Defender’s Office) stated that only seventeen percent of rape victims actually talk about it. That leaves an astonishing eighty three percent silent! That number led me to wonder what can be done to break the silence, what services are offered for victims and what can be done to prevent it. If silence is the go to for eighty three percent of rape victims, the solution would be to offer options to get them talking and begin the healing process.

 

I.                   What can be done to break the silence?

A.    The perpetuation of knowledge would help reduce the number of victims who do not feel confident enough to speak.

B.     Awareness of the support systems available would offer open doors for those who need support.

C.     Knowledge of the protective services available should be made accessible to all people.

II.                What services are offered to rape victims?

A.    Injunctions can protect victims who are awaiting the decision of guilt in the courts.

B.     Relocation services are offered to victims whose rapist knows where they live.

C.     Counseling is available to those who need help with their healing process.

III.             What can we do to prevent rape from taking place?

A.    Knowledge of current statistics and rape related facts can help us raise awareness.

B.     Self Defense classes are something we all should consider in order to be able to protect ourselves when necessary.

C.     Safety measures should be followed while travelling in the dark or obscure locations.

 

In a fast paced digital world, we often forget the story behind the pupil. Many services exist for the victims of rape. However, with the current eighty three percent unable to find their voice, so many continue suffering in silence. The more knowledge and awareness we can raise about this terrible topic, the more healing can take place. I believe with the right levels of awareness and education we can stop some from every becoming victims at all. Look at me. I am what rape looks like.

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Droplet

We are but droplets of water
Suspended in air
Prismatically projecting
What colors we wear
Fall to the Earth
We, drops of rain
Reciprocal chromatography
Rise to do it again
Evaporation of our pain
The healing of the water
We are all sacred
Earth's Suns & daughters
Water over wine
We keep the body moving
Choosing our vocation
Every day improving
Rhythmically producing
All that we need
Raise our vibration
Till only rainbows we see
Harmonic evolution
The body of the KRST
You can argue, you can falter
You can deny "him" thrice
Or rise you can like
Droplets in the air
Be a planet shaker
And prove you care
Weary we are
And at times we cry
But those of us committed
Like Phoenix will fly

Monday, October 7, 2013

Found Poetry

In between pages, layers
Sooth sayers and sheets
Particle conversation
And freshly laid beats
I heat my feet as they
Speak to the stage
Leavin' the audience
In my backwash haze
Lemme rephrase
Wave to me as I pass on by
Silky to the skin
As I'm high on life
Take this strife
May this cup pass away
Half full
Half empty
Just listen to what I say
I don't sway or falter
Halt or fall down
And better be stilled by the entrancing sound
As my fingers hit the keys
This baby grand
I'm in my right mind
Stroke it right with my left hand
I've got these grand visions
Of life as it could be
Life as it should be
If we all would be what we
Have the existential potential to be
Free
That is what we are destined to see
So scope your peripheral
And get ready for the next chapter and verse
Rehearsal not necessary
Just roll with the tides
Wu Wei flow
High on life
And here to do more than
Just survive
If every day is a hussle
Better do more than just get by
If you're not ready to come along
Better wave as I pass on by

Untitled (by Joe Mailloux)

A broken young woman flips a dime into a wishing well
She doesn't dare to wish for heaven
But would love to escape her hell
She gave away her life
When she became the wrong mans wife
Don't let her wish go unanswered
All she really wants to do is survive

Thursday, September 26, 2013

We shall see

Life is precious. Enjoy the morsel of the moment. There is an algorithm ever present along our destined path. Have faith in your strength. Believe in the power of your story.
 
Remember the proverb of the Chinese farmer. His son found a wild and beautiful stallion and captured it and brought it home. The people of the village said, Congratulations, we hear your son has found a beautiful wild stallion. The old farmer merely replied, "We shall see". The villagers confused walked away. A few days later the son was breaking this stallion in and broke his leg in the middle of doing so. The villagers came by and offered their condolences. The old farmer said, "We shall see". Puzzled, they walked away from this strange old man. Two weeks later as the son was laid up in a cast and trying to hobble along through his day soldiers came to fulfill a draft. The son was of age, but due to his broken leg, he was not drafted. The people of the village were overwhelmed with joy, and came by to congratulate the old farmer. As usual, he replied, "We shall see". Several months into the long, cold war, the man's house burned down and the son, still healing was trapped in the fire and died. The people of the village were overwhelmed with sorrow realizing that if the son had been at war, he would not have been trapped in the fire. The old man surprised them with his level answer. We shall see.
 
I am sure you have heard this before. The point is that you never know what the obstacles or sorrows of life are designed to perform. Have faith. Enjoy the morsel of the moment. Choose to be happy no matter what the current circumstance. If you get wrapped up in the past or the future, you are jeopardizing the fullness of the moment.

Live each moment to its fullest potential.

And imagine what "We Shall See!"

Lizard with a Taped on Tail

My day yesterday was a strange & beautiful day full of ups and downs, blessings and obstacles. I think the strangest thing that happened (even stranger than the lizard with the taped on tail!) was the note that was left on one of the tables I served yesterday at the restaurant. It read, "The original Caligula, after his reign of sadism and terror." What it means to me, I have no idea. Perhaps, it wasn't even meant for me. However, the way it was left on the table makes me feel as though it was in deed intended for me. I know little to nothing about Caligula (which is about to change). Anyone that has two cents to add, please feel free. I am very curious. I do feel that our life is an algorithm that we must figure out as we go along our destined path. I feel that there are puzzle pieces that occur and we must be watching to understand their mathematical value to our spiritual purpose. I am grateful to say, I feel like I am putting scabs over my wounds, finding the significance of the recent obstacles I have encountered. I feel as though I am factoring in these recent puzzle pieces and moving forward. Thanks again for all the continued to support through this hardest chapter of my life so far.

Love & Light,
Lady Rain.

Friday, September 6, 2013

Angels in the Knightmare

"Finding supporting ideas "
Next step on my destiny
Moving ahead
On this unmanned trajectory
Status unknown but destination proclaimed
Freedom for the people
Who remain enslaved
Revamp the system
Step out of the box
They made us captive behind this glass block
No lid but we remain
Like creatures in a cage
I can hit a mic and blow up a stage
But it's about time for the chapter and page to change
So you can call me Moses or you can call me Malcolm
However the mathematics
I only care about the outcome
So run if you must
From the burden at hand
But we will wave our banner high
All across this land
I don't care to ever be
A part of the status quo
White female may be where it's at
But the soul inside me knows
I am more than from this place
And I am not my race, my age
My gender is not relevant
To all my spirit estimates
We are the warriors we have been waiting for
Careful on your mission
For the wolf waits at the door
I am marching us to Zion
Freedom is at hand
And all the ones who believe
Are the ones who understand
So now is the time
Now is the hour
Our Spirit understands
Our Divinity gives us power
Angels in the Knightmare
Following the War
We are the ones we have been waiting for
It is our time to rise

Thursday, September 5, 2013

No Place Like Home

I have to admit some of the joy of coming home to my new house has been taken away from me by force. I had to call my mother tonight and have her stay on the phone with me until I could breathe easy and feel at peace. As it stands, all the lights in my house are on. There is a service that the county provides women in my position to move to a new location. I cannot lie. I have thought about it several times. Amanda and her husband have offered to install a security system here or wherever I go should I choose to move. This is all a lot at once. Many things I have not shared with the many things I have. I cannot say I am happy about what happened or say that I understand it. What I can say is that I recognize the algorithm of life at work within me and that the spectrum of what we experience from our greatest joy to our deepest pain all serves a greater purpose. I am grateful that I can hold on to that at this time. I am also happy to say that I am working on a couple new songs. I wrote some intense poetry that served as a great release. School is going well, and so is my internship. Money is tight but my bills are paid, and I get stronger every day. Thanks to all of you who have lent an ear, offered a hand, a shoulder to cry on, words of support, prayers and meditations. I could not be me without all of you. My love and my gratitude goes out to each and every one of you.

See what you've done to me.


I want to be your constancy
I think about you constantly
Look what you've gone and done to me
I am your A to Z
Freedom is as Freedom does
Cannot predict by only what was
There is no manual of love
Not everything right fits like a glove

Copper!

Copper is the color of my karma
Bare-boned beneath the skin
My unadulterated dogma
Skeletons of amber hue
Dance outside my closet
I watch the raindrops
Fall like pain
From a sky that feels like crying
Indigo my tree like bones
Embrace the moistened soil
Tell me it is worth the work
And I will maintain the toil
I am swimming up this stream
Like a salmon in her season
Picking up momentum now
And contemplating treason
Weaving in and out
These thought processes of mine
Osmosis moves left brain to right
Answers seek to find
Harmonic balance
Sigh
I fly on wings of passion
Which will never be denied
Size me up
Fill my cup
Or simply walk on by
I always give the best of me
Even when I'm wrong
If you doubt my story now
Just listen to my song

Equilibrium

Copper is the color of my karma
Thin skinned
As I am digging
Amber bones
From my deepest, darkest closet

She sopheted to me
Like a substrate to an enzyme
Reminding me
Once again
The time had come to find
Equilibrium

I am swimming up a stream
Like a salmon in its season
Picking up momentum now
Contemplating treason

Weaving in and out
Thought processes
The answers seek to find
Osmosis moves left brain to right
Harmonic balance
Sigh

I fly on wings of passion
Which will never be denied
Size me up
Or fill my cup
Or simply walk on by

I always give the best of me
Even when I am wrong
If you doubt my story now
Just listen to my song

Wings

Indigo three point oh
The lamppost flickers on
When the light begins to fade
The time will call us home
We hone in on our extra senses
Watching for the signs
Puzzle piece
We dance on streets
All roads lead to Rome
Zoning rights begin to fight
For territorial design
We ignore the signs
And treat the symptoms
Blind lead the blind
Power holds the wealthy hand
And soldiers march in alone
The weary back
Begins to crack
And the powerful call it weak
We weep on knees
Nothing left to bleed
Yet somehow still believe
Faith writes within the margin
What most may never see
Her private thoughts
Are wrought like iron
Truth most cannot believe

Shower

I am Karma's broken daughter
Copper colored
Defiantly defending my dogma
Amber bones
Clutter the darkness
Of my closet
I undress
Redress
Ready to march across the water

I will do all that it takes to be
All that I am
Ready to rise up and lay claim to this land
My hands raised
Palms wide open
This faith I was born from
Has my spiritual open

I am the firstborn child
Of the wing-ed lion
Ready to lead my people
To the freedom of Zion
I could choose to be daunted by all I have seen
But I would rather continue to believe

All people are made up
Of light and of darkness
And somewhere within us
That still voice is calling

Choices are made
To demons we hearken
My mission is strong
I will not falter

more people than not
Will choose to be
Safety over slaughter
Love over fear

My destined path is
Filled with obstacles and pain
But Life will always return
Beneath the shower of the Rain

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

New York Minute


In a New York Minute I was born to star crossed lovers who were young and unsure of how to raise their tiny newborn child. Born in the South of Jersey (please do NOT ask me what exit) and raised in the Sunshine State, I have traveled up and down the eastern seaboard spending most of my time in Upstate New York. I consider Rochester home and it proved to be exactly what I needed in a city. From its seaport berth I spring-boarded my music, my first love in this life.

            Music has always been my go to. It has always been my shelter from the storm. Around the age of nineteen my friends began to call me Rain. By the age of thirty three I created a CD that was destined to become global. Rochester was present for both events and I could not have done it without her.

            Music is my inspiration. Music is the universal language. Music is my soul mate. Without Music, I would never have been able to handle the intensely hard destined path I was asked to walk this lifetime. Many people have reached my uninhibited heart, but nothing has ever touched me with more power than the power of Music.

            I, like Martin Luther King, have a dream. I believe in the very equality our forefathers came to this country to seek. I believe with all my heart that all of us who are ready for change have the power it takes to makes the waves we need to bring us all to the dawning of a new age. I believe that one voice can make a difference. Now imagine what one thousand voices in unison have the power to say. I promise with all that I am and all that I one day will be, I will do all that it takes to ensure we all are truly free.

            If I could help the world to see only one thing, I would help them see it isn’t the bling, television or diamond rings; it is instead the way we sing our individual song of peace. We are allowed to represent our individual belief. All people are designed to be free. Our interpretation of the truth resonates deeply and no one has a right to take that away. We all are responsible for what we do and say! There is nothing greater than our destiny.

Monday, August 26, 2013

Lovely

Lightning folds his tar stained wings
Singing his song of Destruction
He is approaching the coming Dawn
He glistens with Seduction
Donning on a robe of white
His life irrevocably changes
Estranged no more from his Father's love
He hovers about the atmosphere
On downy wings of doves

Night Sky

On the aftermath of rape
I shake almost profusely
Here because I cannot seem
To find my car
Upon exiting into the Now
Darkened Campus
Dark like his skin
Jet black now rhymes with sin
He took a right to drink me in
Does what I allowed
Change the nature
Of what I tried to stop
Rot in a cell and he
Can never erase the fear
That replaced the confidence
I used to feel
Under the Night Sky

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Erase

This is what rape looks like
Look at me
Look in my eyes
Cold boned and frightened at the break of dawn
Afraid to put my smile back on
What if he thinks I am pretty
Too pretty to resist
What if it's not enough
That simple lingering kiss
I pushed him back
From the center of his chest
The rest becomes a little hazy
But I resisted the arrest
Of the graze of his temples
The darkness of my room
He left me feeling hollow
Empty like a tomb
I have no womb for the reckoning
My skin has dried like soil
There is no rain to be remembered
No victors collecting spoil
I am old and cold and lonely
Alone inside my new house
I want to scream from these prison walls
I want to let it out
I have no idea how I will find the peace to move on with my life
I just know I have the strength and I will find the rhythm to survive
No one knows just what to say
And they say the most horrible things
There is no laughter, no calm, no story
That any pleasure brings
I sing but my voice is hollow not like the days before
I wish I could go back in time
His text message
Simply ignore
What more Is I believe that everything happens on purpose
So what is the message
for that knowledge I am yearning
Please believe me when I say
I wish I could go back to that day
And change the rape that stood in my face
The peace that was replaced
My new home
Has been erased

Thursday, August 8, 2013

The Anti-Hunger Game

Sometimes words are not enough. My Sociology Professor brought things to my attention I would not have seen without him. I have put my political training wheels on and I am watching. I follow a spiritual pulse as though the volition of God's finger (will) is pushing me from behind. How the timing of eating a banana relates to living a holistic life eludes some. Others of us are enchanted every moment of our lives. We take moments like warm breaths on a cold night and string them together like a sacred string of sentimental pearls. Life is good. Where we are headed is a way we already know. We grow daily, and by paying attention to the right things at the right time, we find our way to freedom.

 Conversations with butterflies.
 I am ready for all of this.

I met with an enchanting young goddess named, Sade from the campus bookstore on my new campus. We sipped tea and spoke of many things. Food Not Bombs. Why aren't we doing more?
What more is there to be done? Who is on the team?

Sade is organizing a ground level birth of a Food Not Bombs chapter here in St. Pete. I am excited and on board.

So many new thoughts.
Power to this day.
My Father's Birthday.

:D

Rain.

Saturday, July 27, 2013

This Bliss-filled Life!

Yet another synchronous occurrence in my life has left me grateful to be alive. I am honored by the harmonic flow of the universe. This morning on my way to Ursula Yano's pool party (and that is an event I will have to blog about later), I had the feeling to stop and bring Tommy a couple energy drinks for the day. He was horrified when he found out that I had today off. What would he do without me on a double day Saturday?! I try to make a habit of listening to my instinct and this time especially I am so glad that I did. I stopped, swimsuit and all, and he says, "Chris, pop the hood..." I listened to him. Sure enough, what I had feared had happened (we can talk about that element later too) and the hood prop flopping around loosely under the hood had pierced the radiator hose and gave it space to leak out (spurting, oozing, almost shooting Tommy King in the face!). So, Tommy being the amazing man that he truly is, gathered odd elements from his truck and fixed mine! I am so grateful I stopped to take care of him. Hilarious. But, on a serious note, stop and listen to the still, small...it is always a great plan! Thanks, Tommy. Thanks, Instinct! Happy Saturday.

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Synchronous Banana Eating

I love my life! It is amazing to me the synchronous flow of the harmonic spiritual universe and how we can choose to enter the Wu Wei rhythm of nature or allow a lemony snickett series of existence instead. I rose today later than I wanted but understood my body must have needed it. I left the house to head for Gibbs Campus of St. Petersburg College where I will attend this fall. It is my last semester with SPC and it is a very exciting chapter of my life. I have only been to this campus one time with Mark Stewart for a piano concert that utterly changed both of our lives. I mapquested for directions and left my apartment headed to get my Fall textbooks. I was stopped at a light listening to my music loud as I like it and saw a billboard that said, Where are You Going? The sign was cobalt blue: my favorite color. My eyes flooded with spiritual tears. I KNOW where I am going. I am so excited about this life I lead. I drove on jamming to my music. I arrived at the campus and was looking for signs of where the bookstore might be. I saw the sign and headed in that direction. The first building I saw was the MUSIC CENTER, where Mark and I had gone first semester back for that incredible concert. I was so excited to be on a campus that focused on my favorite subject, music! I parked my truck and decided I was hungry. I had brought a banana with me and decided now was the right time to eat it. Because I was eating it, I took a walk passed the first entrance to the building where the bookstore was located and continued eating my banana. I really loved the campus. It is older than the Clearwater Campus and there were flower everywhere. I finished my banana right in front of the second entrance and decided to go in. As I entered there was (of course) and Yamaha Baby Grand!!!!! I walked through the open area toward the bookstore and entered: business first/play the beautiful piano when finished! I go in, there is a beautiful sister that I really wanted to be the one (of many) to help me. They send me to the back to get my textbooks. In the back is a beautiful brother helping a beautiful sister who also came to get textbooks. I am in line behind her. Someone else, Who I immediately clicked with came to help me get my books. I asked if I was allowed to play the piano. He giggled and answered, "Of course!" I was so excited. I only needed two books for my courses which allowed me a lot of extra money on my book line of credit. So, I got a Great Gatsby shirt, a couple campus shirts, a SPC decal for my truck, the second and third book in the Hunger Games, more ink for my printer, and a really cute little knapsack!!! Go me. Of course, as I arrive at the register the young woman I really wanted to take care of me, took care of me. Sade was invigorating, radiating spiritual energy and we really connected! We talked about poetry, Gandhi, Malcolm, Martin, Life....She wants to start a chapter of Food Not Bombs, I want to help...I gave her my info. We spoke of music, life and how we could change the planet. I was amazed. All because the timing of a banana. I left full of spiritual supercharged energy. I played the piano, left hand still struggling with its nerve disorder to awaken. I played anyway. The guy studying took off his headphones and moved next to the piano, called a friend so he could also listen, thanked me for playing. Rounds of applause. If this is the reception the campus gave me, imagine what is about to happen this semester. On top of the piano was a flyer, "Where are You Going?". It is apparently an SPC logo!!!! Flyer form on top of the baby grand. I had to call Kamahria!!!!! While she and I are on the phone invigorated with spiritual life, she received an email that says "Where are You Going?" Then, I arrive home to blog about all this, and LiFe calls to find out why my afternoon was so amazing! I LOVE MY LIFE!!!!!!!! And this all happened because I listened to the still small voice that said, eat a banana now! The first entrance offers no view of that baby grand. Just saying.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Agape Rain

Valve released
Flood level tears
Sand bag the breach
Won't be home for years
Harvest the speak
My vocabulary wears
The finest of speech
Prada colored snare
I threw the phone
Across the carpet
Waiting for your eyes
To come and spark me
I may very well be committed
To doing this alone
But I would much rather
Do this with you home
Zoned into the beauty
The body of this red
Bed calls me to linger
Longer than I should
Good is said to come
To those who wait
I anticipate your kiss
Like nothing else
I have ever longed for
No one compares
To the you for me
Sea to shining sea
We will always be
One
Sun ray to sun ray
I am forever yours.
Doors open sickly sweet
hearts beat
And the madness subsides
Tides race my footsteps
And I wonder
What will come first
The day you arrive home

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Window Seat

Wisdom is found at her window gazing
Through the willow leaves
One might see her face
Spring has come
And Winter is over
Yet wisdom still sits in her place

Mother Nature watches over
Her sacred forest family
Her starry allies hiding in the shadows
Where they live in harmony

Father Skyway plays his guitar
Nearer clearly to the sea
The fisher man asks for his flower
So that he can soon be free

Sister Singer's breast are fatter
Potted with an orange love
No thesis quoted; she's no pastor
But she's got an answer from above

The priest is a coward and a player
He got herpes from this guy
And every summer it gets no better
 But he has got his alibi...

From the center of his soul I shiver
Up my spine down to my toes
And I am ever riding onward
Where the paths of love have flowed

And as we walk on through our lives
Wisdom still sits in her place
And any of those of us who care to
Could look up and see her face

The glass of life is just reflection
Thoughts of home and family
Our common ground is in our sorrow
Hope and love and fear and peace

Freedom lies beneath our fingers
Where our searching finds no end
Anxiety is just deception
And Death is but a long lost friend

Fly away on wings of passion
Smile inside a bright sunburst
Love is all we'll ever need
To quench our overwhelming thirst

Just remember Wisdom's portrait
Gazing from her window seat
Nothing else is as important
As the wings of someone free

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Aim

Disdain me if you must
I combust for no one but me
i am a spark set free
I am the missing piece
To a puzzle that began a very long time ago
Slow and easy
I keep on breathing
Seething sometimes because of the lack of sublime
Nature
Surrounding me in this clown scene
Street sweeping
Penetrating glances
Always meant for
But not aimed at
Me

Ineffable

Brick upon brick I have layered my grip. Stories in the reflection pools. The eyes the windows of so many souls. We are evading the answer by dancing with the Devil. We level with no one not even the best of our friends. We pretend to make use of our time. Wise words never spoken and reality television begins to control our lives. We are the parameter. We are the ones who have the power to maintain, build or fall. The call has come from the blue eyed piper. We stepped in deep to the reality of the cypher. We are not so much the wiser as we are wandering more confused than before. So, open the doors to the halls of your heart. Remember the words you heard from the start. Hum to yourself the music of the spheres, and stop listening with your ears. We are here, puzzle pieces of perfection. This is my admontion: rise to the occasion. This life is worth saving. Choose as if it were your last breath. Know as if you have nothing else left. If you offer up your best you will surely be blessed but do it as if no reward hung in the balance. Your voice offers sound because it needs to be heard. Unearth the power in your verbs. Command your words into action, and help us repair this Earth.

Mountain Scream


How dare you assume that I must choose sides? How can you make statements about this woman at your side when you have not asked the proper questions? How can the story be heard without the telling of the importance of the lesson? I am stepping lightly in the direction of the night: not because I choose the darkness over light. I choose to see all that we possess inside. In the balance of all we are lies the magic to move forward. I am nothing without all the pain that I have seen. Nothing is as relevant as everywhere I’ve ever been. I am the mystery underneath the skin of a book opened for the first time. I can rhyme with the best as I am blessed with the true power of words. I have heard your plea, but are you listening to me? You dig into the flesh, hunger for the meat of the marrow. Sparrow lands on planted pans of herbs and flowers for healing. I am stealing a glance in the other direction. This protection offered cannot be my benediction. I am slipping the transmission into reverse. This Earth must listen or we can wish on some other star to save us. I will combust with all I have been asked to keep inside. Glide over lands that don’t understand the powers that reside. Open your eyes. We are in danger of the consequences of our pride. I decided a long time ago to give it my best, be one with the flow. I know that I am imperfect and stride forward with every marker I find. I am listening to the tides. We must begin tonight. Sight unseen and the gleam of distant lands understand the propensity of our heavy hand. I demand satisfaction. It is not as hard to do things right. We struggle only to maintain the lie. We must let go of the demons before we collide. I am open to the glowing Moon. Listen in as I begin the playing of the tune that will lead us to freedom. Can you hear the double meaning? I am screaming at the top of the mountains that unearthed the fountain not of youth or of power. Let us not be devoured. Now is the hour. We are the ones we have been waiting for.

Echo


I am the daughter of another place and another time. Rhyme schemes produce themselves from my lips with echoes of the sublime. I am finding a new passage. Dark waters drip from my flesh like the music of the spheres is all I am about to have left. Who might I trust with this elemental combustion? I am the seduction of the muses. I choose to be me because it pleases thee. I am wading in water now up to my chest. I remember all I am about to collect. I have purpose on this Earth and I am wasting not one breath. Please direct my steps.

The Great Gatsby


The Story hung on me like the most terrible hangover. Many doors opened but the weight of it was hard to render into words. Sights seen and responses heard vary to every viewer. The power of a movie over me as though the version of me that sat in the seat while the beginning introduced us to the characters was not the same as the version of me that left bewildered by the time credits rolled. The old woman’s soul who responded to my breath as we left could not explain how much I disdained the way the story came to a close. Much like we closed the door to the car only to travel as far as she letting me off to wander the sidewalk to my door. I could not break another heart. I started remembering the beginning of every story I had walked my clumsy way through. I viewed the you inside the truth. The perception is all we have left when breast has become bereft and all that is cleft has been torn asunder. I wonder why love has to hurt so much. And I truly believe that if we all would see that it was only worth it if it leaves us in one piece. Pieces of the puzzle turned to rubble when children lose fathers and daughters lose mothers. We seem to uncover the mystery in someone else’s eyes. Cries left unheard. We unearth dark waters in the passage of an ocean liner. Inside winding its confident way: our destiny remembers all we are about to do and say. What volition will I follow today? I am the weeping of your deepest untold secret. I am the marking of your flesh when the pain is all you have left. I am the soft melody of my niece’s first stroke of my piano. I am the soprano in your voice when you have no choice left but to sing. Sing for all it is worth because the music is our birth. We are the rapid rising of the rain after all the waters of the heaven have chosen to fall again. I am beaten up and maintained by the love in your eyes for me. Why do we choose to ignore the alternative? Why do we refuse to give it our best because the left fork in the road consumes the marrow of our soul? We roll on out of control wondering what blessings this path might bestow? I am holding back nothing. I am the truth in the speaking. I am the reaping of the season. I am the heathen who is aware of all they are about to lose. I choose you. Where does that leave us?

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Allergic

Through a dense thicket of forest leaves
I see the detination of the July sky
Bright cobalt hues of red and blue
Geisha white and I am faltering
Singing in the April Rain
I feel the pain
Of a thousand centuries of love mistakes
Taking quickness from my limbs I fall to the Earth
On my knees
Black soil
Rich with the scents of coming Thunder
Marching like iron men
All in a picket row
Lightning fills the hairs on my eyelids
One thousand lashes
If you counted nice and slow
We are electric beings
Dissenting unseen things
Only for the lack of viewing them
With our own sleep ridden eyes
A thousand cries of hearts I've broken
By being the only love
That embraced them just right
So tonight I sleep alone and lonely
If only for a moment
And my breath is gone
Dust inside September breezes
God sneezes
And it all begins again

Grace

Size me up
Fill my cup
And let me dance to the danger in your dexterity
I am wickedness removed from truth
I am youth that will never age
I am a page so loved it can never be turned
I burn with the wisdom of an ancient sage
Yet I am as naive as a day old babe
Waves
Of amber confusion
Combustible rhyme
Sipping liters of couplets out of time
I wind down the lane of life
Remembering myself
one morsel at a time
I am the Divine
Echo
the great nothing
The something that is between your toes
But you don't know why
I am the cry in the darkness
I remember where your spark is
And if you to me hearken
We can do this in style

Tempo

I walked for what seemed like forty angry water miles
No direction
Just the sound of the rain on the pavement
The pelt of the rain on my skin
Cold
Penetrating
My surface layers vibrant and alive
Remembering every drink of water I had ever had
I tasted freedom
Dark thoughts came and went as I breathed out hard
Compressed air
Releasing cries from my chest
Bereft of every other me I had ever known
i honed in on the sound of the cars passing by
Stopping to wonder why I was so comfortably
If quickly
Walking with the rain
Dancing on the balls of my feet
As i walked to the beat of the music in my head
The cadence of the rain
The symmetry of this moment
Perfect in every way
I remembered her
How could I ever forget?
Lost in some quadruple pentameter of
Some old poem I had once upon a time memorized
I sighed
Why did she never come home?
Alone.
Is this what was meant for me?
Or was I just excavating some wanderlust?
Combustible with no filter
I sauntered to the left
A little off kilter from the embrace of the wine
He gave me the time to take
All I needed from every grace of his skin
I am the quickening
of every new me yet to come
I run this race with the finish line an afterthought
To running well
And sure, when I tell a story
I usually start from the middle and fill in tangents
That some times make sense to those listening in
To my internal banter
i rant and rave
this lunatic speak
as I drink in the tempo
Of this brand new RAin

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Babble

We seem to be living in a spiritual Tower of Babel. I feel like we are speaking the same technical language yet are failing to actually communicate. It is sad to see how loose our command of language has become as an overall culture. Of course, those of you that are reading this are walking through this with me.

I was raised by my parents with fluid use of concepts like honesty, integrity, honor. I am overwhelmed by the "Reality Television" version of todays American workplace. One sentence can be turned into a death sentence should it happen to fall on the wrong set of ears. Whole stories are concoted out of one simple misunderstood phrase.

People are not working as hard. I understand that there is a lot of undercurrents and sublayers to this whole world of a problem but, the America workplace does not promise job security for hard work any longer. Benefits are becoming something of the past, and "we the people" are not finding trades as much as we are finding jobs. It is devestating our output, our quality experience.

We are here to enjoy luminous rays of sunlight on a leaf. We are here to watch lizards run rampant across a patio in order to return to a place of safety. We are here to listen to one another, to speak our minds, to breathe in deep the scent of this glorious existence. Yet, something has happened to us.

I walk by so many with no spark in their eye. No joy in their smile. We were not intended to wear one canned emotion on our face for when we make eye contact. We were created, born into a physical being resplendent with a whole gammet of worthy emotions to have access to. When life is truly experienced, every morsel becomes meaningful and joy can be ours.

I am far from having every answer. I certainly have a whole pile of fresh questions. I simply wish to see our culture do a 180. I want to see us remember why we are here.

I am grateful for all of you in my life who have not forgotten. Challenges present themselves daily, and I have seen many challenges in the last four and a half months. There are many of us driven enough, committed to our own excellence enough to not allow any obstacle to become a set-back.

I am not sure what the next few hours will hold for me. I do know there is a great force in motion, and I am willingly a vessel for the greatest good. I learn much daily. I will only continue to rise and shine, pressing forward, this existential best of me.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

How Many Times

How many times can you lead
one person to freedom?
How many lives can you move
with just one voice?

I'm on the road
Headed toward tomorrow
I'm on this path
Elegant in my Wu Wei

How many bricks does it take
to lay forever?
How many lies
Until the foundation quakes?

We're on a road
That wants to beg forgiveness
We're doin math
Does not equation make

How many souls
On board for Revolution?
How many tolls
Until the price is paid?

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Research paper written...


As we approach the fifty year anniversary of President John F. Kennedy’s death, the same questions linger in the air like a dense smoke that refuses to dissipate. Looking backward we still see a tangled web of information regarding the death of America’s first Catholic President.

Utterly necessary for any successful body of research requires the researcher to put themselves inside the map. In order to truly understand the propensity of his assassination, it must be understood the mentality of the era in which JFK was President.

Born May 29, 1917, no one knew he would later become the thirty fifth President of these United States. Often referred to as the “Roaring Twenties”, this decade stands out as a turning point in American society.  Victorian elements fade away and the era of the flapper takes center stage. The U.S. solidified its status as a world power and we witness a major shift in American domestic life.

Kennedy was born in an exciting era full of remarkable changes. Prohibition was set into action just as he was brought into this world. Henry Ford developed his assembly line and “revolutionized production” (academicamerican.com). Women’s Rights movements began and Darwin’s theory of evolution is tried and banned from being taught in schools. The first “talkie” films are brought to theatres. The twenties were a time of cutting loose, enjoying freedom and finding new pathways of pleasure.

All the energy of the twenties meets a brick wall as the Stock Market Crashes in 1929. This event leads to a series of circumstances that propel America into the Great Depression.

Fast forward to the fifties and we find President Kennedy now in his thirties, surrounded by a whole new list of societal obstacles. Civil Rights movements become a full force operation. The end of World War II unleashes “…an energy never before experienced” (lonestar.edu). The country is again in a state of flux, unrest, and great societal pressure for change.

Three million are unemployed. The average salary is less than three thousand dollars per year. The labor force is 5:2 Male to female. A loaf of bread costs a mere fourteen cents (lonestar.edu).

On January 2, 1960, after much disseminating material against the Catholic Church had become widespread, John Fitzgerald Kennedy began to solidify his campaign. Later that same year, at forty three years of age, he defeated Richard Nixon (jfklibrary.org). JFK “was the youngest man elected President; he was the youngest to die” (whitehouse.gov).

As JFK began his role as President of the United States, he was confronted by many situations of large importance. Civil Rights movements were at an all-time high and much violence was associated with its presence. The KKK was a powerful faction dedicated to the segregation, subjugation and elimination of the African race. The Vietnam War was a major focus as we went in with much passion from those who objected it. (historynet.com)

Perhaps, more important than any other crisis to be considered during his timeframe as President, we must focus on the Bay of Pigs, and all the layers of thought associated with it. The Cuban Missile Crisis stemmed from the Cold War and presented a “clear and present danger”. Anyone paying attention would be very wary of Fidel Castro especially considering his relationship with Khrushchev. JFK was briefed on a plan that had been put into existence during the realm of Eisenhower. The CIA had the major stated goal of developing a Cuban government that was United States friendly, and it was agreed that would mean the removal of Castro. Leader of the Cuban Revolutionary Council, Jose Miro Cardona was poised and ready to become President of Cuba were their plan of invasion to conclude successfully (jfklibrary.org).

It seems plausible when all information is carefully regarded that the President did not know what the CIA knew regarding the Cuban invasion. It also seems completely credible to agree that the other government agencies were not in harmony on this matter. With so much going on in one country at the same time, it is hard to imagine how Kennedy maintained composure.

The failed invasion at the Bay of Pigs caused the Kennedy Administration much embarrassment and stress. Our relations with Castro’s Cuba remained “strained and tenuous” (jfklibrary.org).

There are many stories that intertwine into the life of President Kennedy; many elements to be considered while pondering information and postulating theories. One prominent story in his time was the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Dr. King, a minister’s son, was a highly educated man. He was a man that lived by his strong sense of morality but one that believed civil disobedience could affect necessary change. His life and the life of JFK weave in and out of one another immeasurably.

Dr. King was a black man in the middle of heightened KKK power; in the middle of heightened awareness of just what it meant to be black in America in the fifties. Dr. King believed in JFK, privately voting for him in 1960 and stated, “I felt that Kennedy would make the best President…had (he) lived I would publicly have endorsed him in 1964 (Hachette Digital, Autobiography of Martin Luther King, Jr. p, 187)”.

In the words of Dr. King, “Agape is an overflowing love which seeks nothing in return…When you rise to love on this level, you love all men not because you like them, not because their ways appeal to you, but you love them because God loves them. This is what Jesus meant when He said, ‘Love your enemies’…I’ve seen too much hate to want to hate, myself, and I’ve seen hate on the faces of too many sheriffs, too many white citizens’ councilors, and too many Klansmen of the South to want to hate, myself; and every time I see it, I say to myself, hate is too great a burden to bear. Somehow we must be able to stand up before our most bitter opponents and say…do to us what you will and we will still love you (King, Martin Luther, Trumpet of Conscience p. 73-74).”

How could JFK, also a passionate and intelligent man who believed in progressive change, not be moved by the words of a man such as Martin Luther King? Months before Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, JFK proposed action that would offer “the kind of equality of treatment which we would want for ourselves (taylormarsh.com).”

President Kennedy met with MLK and other civil rights leaders August 28, 1963 just three short months before his assassination (usliberals.about.com). If the KKK was composed of many high ranking US officials, would it be so ridiculous to postulate a theory where they got rid of the President due to his serious involvement in aiding the Civil Rights Movement?

There are so many theories put forward, many of which are utterly ridiculous, and some of which hold high merit. The Warren Commission interviewed five hundred fifty two witnesses. They published a final report that was almost nine hundred pages long! Still, the truth is a mystery in a country where so much is documented and recorded by her citizens.

In the era we now find ourselves, we are not so quick to trust the government. However, in the fifties and sixties that unrest had only just begun. The general population at the time of Kennedy’s presidency had implicit faith in the structure of the government. America was still something worth dying for to most of her citizenry.

The public was shocked awake as they realized that the theory being proposed was pretty preposterous! How could one bullet turn so many times? How could one person be responsible for all that happened that day? If the government was trying to cover up a conspiracy of this proportion what else did the American public not know?

Lee Harvey Oswald was arrested and titled as the assassin. He was shot a short time later, destroying a link that might have ended up helping tremendously. The theory of the “lone nut” was the most populated and perhaps the most widely accepted, at first.

Over the years, many other theories have surfaced some that hold strong threads of truth. Perhaps, it was Lyndon B. Johnson. He stood to benefit greatly by taking over the Presidency. It was well known that J. Edgar Hoover despised the Kennedy family. It was also common knowledge that Hoover and Johnson were close friends. Could it have been a man who swore the Kennedy’s would not “embarrass him again” just a few nights prior to the assassination?

Another postulated theory is that of the Israelis. Kennedy would not allow them to have nuclear weaponry. Could their leaders have planned an assassination in retaliation against Kennedy because they did not get their way?

What if it was his wife, Jacqueline Kennedy jealous over affairs that the Kennedy family was notorious for? What if she had simply had enough of not feeling the most special to him? What if was better for her if he were dead than sleeping with Marilyn Monroe?

We can consider, the driver, Oswald, the Mafia, the CIA, the KKK, Castro himself, the Israeli’s, and so many other theories that have continued to surface over the last five decades. Yet, what we all really want to know is what really happened?

Arlen Specter, an ambitious junior counselor was the author of the single bullet theory. Both the Warren Commission and the House Select Committee adopted this stance.

Though the Warren Commission is focused on more harshly, the Select Committee’s findings were of the same basic nature. Both the Commission and the Committee try to explain the assassination with the defining characteristic of a bullet that seemingly makes several sharp turns.

Due to acoustical evidence, the Select Committee proposes the existence of a second gunman; although, he is assumed to have missed everything. The House Committee decided the first shot misses and the Warren Commission never decides.

The House Select Committee concurs pretty emphatically with all the Warren Commission infers except on the element of conspiracy.

The Zapruder film coming forward allows people to view a recording of the assassination. It is hard to watch it and believe that there is no one on the grassy knoll. The President does not look toward the Depository but toward the knoll. Was there a firing squad behind the fence?

Furthermore, if the admission of the Dictabelt recording is accepted as actuality, the acoustical experts who studied it state it is ninety five percent likely that a shot was fired from the grassy knoll. This would disprove the Warren Commission’s non-conspiracy approach. It would also disprove the possibility of Oswald being the “lone nut” (youtube.com/Zapruder Film with Dictabelt Recording 2).

A few months after the assassination and too much evidence has been set forward to confirm the story the government hoped we would accept as truth. Now, we have an FBI that is embarrassed, and a mortified Justice Department trying with all their might to silence the Press. 

By 1976, eighty one percent of Americans which answered the Gallup Polls believe that Lee Harvey Oswald did not act alone and that there was indeed a conspiracy (Ebenkamp, Becky, Only the Grassy Knoll Knows, Brandweek, Vol. 42, Issue 15, p18).

The American Public has been deeply moved by this story for decades now. What does it mean when a President is assassinated? What does it mean when a government is caught in a lie? What does it mean when those meant to protect us set out to deceive us? What do we do when we can no longer be led?

President Kennedy’s story may never be known exactly. It seems most plausible to believe that the iron triangle created between the Mafia, the Cuban exiles and the CIA (especially Operation Mongoose) must be the predominant suspect. President Kennedy was a young President who was fired up and ready to make a remarkable difference. He intended to pull out of Vietnam which upset the balance of many Joint Chiefs of Staff and many four and five star Generals. He was after Fidel Castro and perhaps Castro arrived at him first. He double crossed mobsters and we all know how much power they had once upon a time. So much speculation has been made but will the absolute truth ever be known?

Deep in the heart of CIA machinations, I believe we could find our solid answer. However, I do not see the arrival of that day after fifty years of confusion, speculation and tireless research. The American people deserve an honest answer. We deserve to know the truth. Ultimately, we deserved a President such as JFK! So much has changed because of that fateful day.

No longer do the American people take the words of her government at face value. No longer do the American people believe what popular imagery would have them believe. No longer do the American people rest in the most present propaganda. No longer do we sit idly to be deceived by the ranks of governmental control.

My closing question is, when will we rise to challenge the forces that have the power but so clearly do not emulate the truth or what is best for the American People?

Long live the memory and the story as adulterated as it has become, of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy!

“Time is precious, but truth is more precious than time -Disraeli (Fonzi, Gaeton. The Last Investigation, 1993).”

 

 

 

 

References:

·        Fonzi, Gaeton. The Last Investigation. Thunder’s Mouth Press. 1993.

·        Jfklibrary.org

·        King, Martin Luther. The Trumpet of Conscience. Harper & Row Publishers. 1967.

·        Archives.gov/research/jfk/select.committee

·        Usliberals.about.com

·        King, Martin Luther. Autobiography of. Hachette Digital. P. 187. ISBN 978-0-446-52412-4.

·        Taylormarsh.org

·        Ebenkamp, Becky. Only the grassy knoll knows. Brandweek, Volume 42. Issue 15. P. 18.

·        Environmentalgraffiti.com

·        Time.com

·        Academicamerican.com

·        Lonestar.edu

·        Whitehouse.gov/about/presidents/johnfkennedy

·        Ir.library.oregonstate.edu/xmlui/handle/1957/23022

·        Youtube.com (JFK Assassination The Full Original Dictabelt Recording/Zapruder Film with Dictabelt Recording)

·        JFK The Book of the Film: the Documented Screenplay. Oliver Stone, Zachary Sklar. Hal Leonard Corporation. 1992.