i used to love h.e.r. [again].

by emory douglas. (1969)



i haven't written anything in awhile.
& its beginning to hurt.
i'm feeling heavy,
almost constipated with words.
but on the other hand,
i guess the silence between the pen
and the page is the equivalent
of listening.
i never spoke when i had
nothing to say,
only quietly observed...
growing stronger,
waiting patiently until
my mind refills with

i just devoured this octavia butler novel.
one of my fave authors in the world.....

she is like a muse,
fulfillment for the empty mind,
she is like fuel.

so thankful for the mind & the gift
of the writer.


soul train honors Queen Anita Baker :)
♥ ♥ ♥


love of my life.

intelligent muzik book list.

by wise intelligent of the poor righteous teachers.

1. The Wretched of the Earth by Frantz Fanon
2. The Confessions of Nat Turner by William Styron
3. A People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn
4. The New World Order by Ralph Epperson
5. Bad Blood: The Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment by James H. Jones
6. The Miseducation of the Black Child by Nathan Hare & Julia Hare
7. The Prophet by Khalil Gibran
8. 40 Million Dollar Slaves by William C. Rhodes
by Kwame Agyei & Akua Nson Akoto
9. Weapons Of Mass Deception by Sheldon Rampton & John Stauber
10. Blueprint for Black Power by Amos N. Wilson

for more - peep twitter page: @wiseintelligent

be gone, wannabe. be gone.

"if you are to fall in love,
then where should you stand
to begin with?

& when the falling's done,
how bad should you plan
to get injured?

& if you land on your feet,
do it count as a fall or a jump?

& do it feel like a fall
when the hands that pushed you
are holding you up? "

-mos def,


muse. (s)

you put me
in a good place.
i see
Him in
your eyes.

you are like the Moon,
reflecting His light

when the Sun is too powerful
to be contained in naked eyes.

i thank you for
your warmth,
your peace.

your shine.


the universe doesn't seem
to be fuckin with me.
oh well,
everything is temporary,

but the struggle gets hard
when everyone around
you is bearing the fruits
of no labor.

& meanwhile,
you're slaving.
head barely above
water .......

but anyway,
i'm maintaining.

taking away
the lessons
the plight intends
for us to find.

i'll be good though.
i'll survive. :)


i wish it would rain.

from Museum of African Diaspora.
photo by Chester Higgins, Jr.


i effin love this song. :)

chocolate high.

2 much black + 2 much love = 4ever


nothing no more.

i wish i could live in a bubble.
or somewhere in the desert,
surrounded by a force
impenetrable by civilization.

society has blinded me.
i am only as liberated as
the confines of corruptness
will allow me to be .

and its not enough.

this is how it feels
when the feeling of nothing
is filling you up.

is it that i
am truly a gemini,
the possessor
of multiple
are these
alive inside of me
eternally feuding,
causing confusion
amidst my state
of uncertainty?


mystery of iniquity.

from the oscar grant protest in july.
"i will die for mines,
even if mine won't die for me."
i can't bring myself to move.

i can't write down another rhyme,
speak another poem
or breathe another line
about what we as a people
must do,
in order for us to rise.

i can't cry another tear
for Oscar Grant
or any other innocent black
with hands tied behind
his back,
or mourn the souls
of nameless faces,
whose lives have been
callously taken
at the hands of these racists,
with untold stories never to
grace front pages
of newspapers.

i can't form the words
that should, at this point,
be branded into memorization .
i should be able to speak them
just once more
eyes closed,
mouth fixed
in repetition.

i should,
but i can't.

so yea,
fuck the system.

rip oscar grant.

check the rhime.

giving up.

Erykah badu - orange moon
remember, remember
the fifth of november.


best of me.


peace before everything. God before anything.


"i believe the bible
was stolen from the africans.
they raped the culture
& put it in the passages.
stripped it.
edit it.
watered it.
packaged it.
put it in a book &
created an acronym... . . .

-CurT@!n$, chant
free mumia.


sweet misery.

shut up.

this is for my ladies who crazy & got a mouth on em ... . .
a prisoner of regrets.
my conscious being held hostage
at point blank range,
memories taking aim
at reality.
mind in a state of emergency,
searching for a way out.
no rescuer in near sight,
no escape from myself .

my damn rant.

when everyone is different,
everything is the same.

tattoospiercingsmusicblogs .
etcetera. etcetera.

we just wanna be seen.

but instead of refining ourselves,
we are defined by these things.
using what is the same -
to express individuality.
& mufuckas swear they deep.
are we even aware that slowly,
we're losing the ability to think?
miseducation is not the same as being taught.

in being molded by societal labels
it seems we have forgot,

before we were overflowing
with amerikan culture,
we used to be filled with God.


young guru speaks about the record industry.


the cool .

we real cool.

We real cool. We
Left school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We

Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.

letter to my son.

s/o @wale




like check to check,
i'm living moment to moment.
being consumed
by it all
bout what it was
until i can be present
once again.
for a moment .
& then its over.

& then it all
starts again.



the floacist x the soulchild.

i looooove this song :)


peace to the native peoples. 

someone asked,
"how do you find truth?"

my teacher told this story:

" imagine there was a man
holding your head underwater.
at first you struggle,
trying as hard as you can
to free yourself.
but soon you give up.
there is nothing you can do.

but the moment before you reach 
the man pulls you out.
he asks you,
"what became of most importance
while you were under water?"
and you say, "air."
"nothing else mattered at that point."

"if you want the truth
as badly as you wanted air

then, you shall find it."

boog x badu