Archive | February, 2013

Happy Belated Birthday Sista, We Still Love You.

22 Feb

Video

Candles in the Wind

20 Feb

I was feeling this just now and maybe I won’t tomorrow after the images sink in.
Peace and remember God is in you.

Video

The Diversion Program

15 Feb

This video depressed the hell out of me and I thought I would spread the wealth. Big up to Mr. Jeremiah Camera for all his work so that we may heal or at least be face to face with our illness. Please stop by http://www.holylockdown.com/ and checkout the rest of his most eye opening works.

King Cotton conclusion….

10 Feb

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As I walked up the stairs in search of my victim, a cat meowed begging for something or another. It sounded like a herd of rabid buffalo to my wide open and petrified mind. I continued and I knew my heart beat could be heard feet away. I gripped the cane knife and I kept to my mission. As I got to the end of hallway where I thought that demon seed had his lair, a sleeping white man I didn’t recognize was propped up against the a door. A door that had to be massa’s room. I walked right up to him and the rage of 200 years brought itself forward in me. My mother’s face as she lay dying in that field blinded me for just a second. I felt like every soul of every slave stood behind me, I was insane. I raised my blade and with one fell swoop I severed his head from his body. He bleed like one of those hogs I had slaughtered over the years and I felt more for those hogs than I felt for this human fountain in front of me. I grabbed his body as to not let it hit the floor like his head had done and wake the demon up. I eased the blood soaked body to the floor and proceeded. I slipped a bit and my hand was to wet with blood to turn the doorknob. I stepped back got myself together and turned the doorknob. What I saw was that little Black girl in the bed with the sheets pulled up around her neck. She was motioning me to do something but I could not really see her in the dim light. As I walked in a bit further to get to my prey she shouted STOP!! It was to late. The old man was up and standing behind the door with a pistol and got the drop on me. I was hit, not only was I hit, but all those souls that stood behind me were hit. My mother’s face was hit and she came to me. I could see her clear and she was a beautiful woman. She had peace all over her and she held her arms out for me to come. How could I come to her, she is not here and I got things to do and first was to disarm this cracker and dispatch him. But there she stood arms out stretched the glow of peace all around her and this life fell away. She said to me, son, I have watched you from the time you opened your eyes up until this very moment. You have grown up with so much hate and sickness in you. I have protected my baby for 26 years, but this night was the night when your hate outgrew the power of my love for you. You had so much to do and you did so much. The love in you will never be realised, so I’m here. It’s time to heal it’s time to stop the sickness, I’m here with you. My mind was dizzy with thoughts, but one thing my mind didn’t have and that was the hate and anger. It had changed some way, that hole that was in the center of my soul was now replaced with light. I can’t feel the weight of what every the weight was that held me to the ground. My mind felt clear and my thoughts flowed from one to next and the next and the next and none of those thoughts were of killing or being killed. I was everywhere and everywhere was me. I was a true person….finally I was a true and free person. I got the courage to join my mother as a man and took her hand. All my concerns I had left behind, all my chains had been left behind. I had become a beautiful soul with radiant light streaming from with in me. I was free. I was now free.        

King Cotton continued…..

8 Feb

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Then he lost his bearings and yelled, I TAKE DAMN GOOD CARE OF YOU NIGGERS AND YOU WANNA RUN FROM ME!!! I’LL SEE YOU DEAD FIRST. Me being me mumbled, God is watching you. He walked over to me and said, what hell did you say nigger? I looked him right in his evil blues eyes and said, nothin’ massa, I didn’t say nothin’ sir. Sometimes being a man means knowing how to be a boy. But the God in me knew this devil was not long for this Earth.

The hardest and most dangerous job by far was the job of the bailer. They had to band the cotton together in 200 pound bails with steel wire. This wire was unforgiving to the wary and absentminded. The tension it took to keep 200 pounds of cotton together was a lot more than you would think. If that wire was not secure correctly the fastener would come lose and it didn’t care if your fingers, hand, arm, leg or any part of your body for that matter was in the way. Whatever was in the path of this thick gauge wire was coming off. I once saw some bailing wire cut a mule almost in half and buried itself two feet into the ground. You could always tell the bailing crews. They were the gimps and made that way by being careless around that damnable bailer. They always looked broken and scared, they didn’t have anything to get up for in the morning because like many of us, any day could be the last. I wanted to work the bailer just to get out of the sun and away from the bickering women. But they would never let someone who wanted to bail work the bailer. Something had to be wrong with that person or they had some plans that may have not been good for someone.

As the season was coming to an end the work picked up if that was even possible. We would have to pick faster as to not leave any of this white hell behind. I often thought about how could it be that everything white in my life was poison. Was it suppose to be this way and if white was hell then what was Black? I worked with a gentle older lady who had aged rather well, her face held strength as well wisdom and it was impossible to tell her age. She had that look that spoke a million words in one breath and a lap that would welcome all the younguns and they all came. They called her Auntie. She had worked these fields her entire life and she knew my mother and would tell me about her when we talk freely. It seems my mother was not what I had thought her to be. She was very much more and after hearing these stories about her I was glad she was dead and no longer apart of this white man’s world. My mother worked really hard and took care of a lot of suckers for mothers who couldn’t or to mentally deformed to handle motherhood. When it was found out that she was helping these other girls with their younguns, she was severely whipped and made to work the fields like an animal. The person that made this happen was none other than that same demon that had the runaway drawn and quartered. She just happen to get pregnant with me during these long days and relentless work conditions. Of course me being me again, he had to leave this life and I had to be the one who sent him on his way. I had hate and anger in me that was eating my guts out like straight lye. I hated the sight of sight and curse the light that made it possible for me to see the sight. I was a walking frown, a frown with no teeth and split lips bleeding and drying up and then splitting again. My hate went directly to my bones and made them as brittle as cooled lava. I cannot rely to you how the cancerous the hate growing in me was, just know that it was and I had to let it go.

My lovely, beautiful, brown skinned lady had come to visit me one day without the permission of her owner and was scared to death of getting caught. I asked why would she do that. What she told me ended my only reason for putting one foot in front of the other. The only reason I took another breath after the last one. She told me she had been sold to some other white man who wanted a personal slave to keep him and his wife company and take care of their house. The work would be easy but the plantation was in another state and I would likely never see her again. He would be back at the end of this week right here to get her. That was not going to happen. I told her to hurry back and keep quiet as if she was glad about the change. My head was swimming. I had so many thoughts running around in there. It was understood that we had to go and be damned the consequences.

I went to work that morning like nothing was any different, but something was very different and my life would be very different after today. I first had to see that my mother’s killer slept forever. After we finished the days work I feed and watered the animals like always and hung around to see if I could see what that old bastard was up to. I saw him talking to some young girl and she was grinning like liquid sunshine had parted her legs and held them in place. I was beside myself at the thought of this greasy pig making another half breed to look at my children like they were less then snake scales. This was not going to happen again, not tonight. After lights out is when all the real slave making happened, it was encouraged and it was welcomed by most. I was risking life and limb by walking out of my shelter and into the night where any manner of overseers held post for any person who thought it a good idea to make a run for it. After that display with the horses no person had even considered trying to run and that made for a pretty relaxed patrol at night. Most of the overseers where trying to find a woman to sewer. I walked right up to the big house and sneaked inside.

to be continued, I’m sorry I had a long day a lot of writing. People really took me up on my offer to help them out for V-Day. I will conclude tomorrow.   

King Cotton.

7 Feb

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Ol’ miss stood alongside the well drinking the cold water from a rusty cup. Her hand shook as she raised it to her dried out lips. Cracked and dingy teeth seemed to spill out as those thin, leather like strips parted ways to allow that sweet artisan water in. Her white face looked more like a road map than a place for eyes, nose and mouth.

She drank that water until her stomach protruded like a pregnant cow. When she stepped down off the side of the well base, you could easily hear the water slosh around in her gut, a sound that sickened me.

She looked directly at me, I knew she had known me as that same little boy that had gotten beat for stealing the ham from the dog’s bowl one night a long time ago. She also had to see how bad I wanted some of that water. My throat was as dry as the cotton that permeated my total existence on and around this plantation. I had been picking all day and my back had a temporary hump in it. Ol’ miss turned back to the well and dip that rusty cup back into the bucket and got cup full of water and walked my way. She reached out to hand me the cup and my hand met hers halfway. She stopped and poured the water on the ground and laughed, that cotton ain’t gonna pick itself nigger. The overseer watching the whole thing just grinned wide then poked his horse to move further down the long rows of cotton. I bowed my head and went back to picking.

In this land of cotton we would not rest and no rest could be foreseen. There was enough work here for three generations from now and massa kept fresh blood coming in. I would never speak to any of the new slaves as I don’t speak to people I don’t know. Besides, that was the quickest way to get a rifle butt upside your head.

The sun would never catch out eyes closed.

The older slaves had developed what is known as “cotton cough”, it came on slowly and then consumed your waking hours and in some their sleeping hours as well. Nothing could be done about it, it came with the territory. It was just years of breathing in cotton dust and your body trying to get rid of it. I was describe as a constant tickle in the back of ones throat and no amount of hacking or coughing could scratch it, but you couldn’t help but to try. If you had someone near you who was afflicted with this cough it would literally drive you crazy with helplessness. The constant cough would make want to kill the person so you both could have some relief.

As hard as we worked we found time for some semblance of joy. On Sundays we were allowed to go down by the creek and take some bits of food and just lay under those big live oaks. I hated those trees and I would never spend free time under one. We were allowed to socialize somewhat and if you had a young lady that you took a shine to you were allowed to see her and talk with her and just be human being together. I had a special girl that I had fallen for on the next plantation and I was allowed to go over there as long as I was back before the sun went down, you didn’t want the sun to go down and you not be where you were suppose to be. The walk was a nice three miles and I didn’t get to sweaty before I could get close to my love. She was a petite toasted brown skin thing with close cut hair and a beautiful voice. I could listen to her talk all day. She was a house slave and her skin sometimes looked pale to me. I often wonder who her father was, but it didn’t matter to me…..much. We wanted to be together but it was not to happen, at least not in the near future any of us could see. I would touch her skin as much as I could and take in the rich brown, a brown like no other brown I had seen. She would remark that we were night and day as I was a inky hue of midnight and she high noon. She loved the contrast our skin made and I was pretty fond of it as well.

If Sunday was rest then Monday mountain moving time. The whips cracked and the cotton dust rose, reality was brought back to us, ready or not. Since seeing my very own mother die in these fields work was just work to me and it meant nothing. I often stood in the same spot she laid in as her life left this place. I was hardened to work and most around me. I was a machine. The only thing that propelled me forward was the house slave, three miles away.

COTTON IS KING!!! Our owner would say as he came down from house to survey all he had. I would daydream about cutting his throat from the back of his neck to the back of his neck. He was cruel and nasty old man. There was a slave that tried to run a number of times, so much so that he had became more of a problem than he was worth. The last time he ran that old nasty man had gotten enough and called all of us together. He had his four biggest horses put into the center of the circle we made with our bodies. The poor soul was then brought out and put onto the center of  the horses, he would never run again the old man said. A rope was tied to each of his limbs after he was made to lay flat facing up. Those ropes were then attached to each one of those horses. Then each would be made to walk straight in all four direction real slow. The screaming was something hell is made out of and we had to watch as this man was torn into four pieces. The worst part about it was we had to collect each part of the body and cut them into smaller piece and feed them to the hogs. The nasty cracker said to us with a face as straight as an arrow, let this be a lesson to any of you dumb coons. Then he lost his bearing and yelled, I TAKE DAMN GOOD CARE OF YOU NIGGERS AND YOU WANNA RUN FROM ME!!! I’LL SEE YOU DEAD FIRST. Me being me mumbled, God is watching you. He walked over to me

to be continued tomorrow. Promise.

Just So You Know.

7 Feb

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‎”These Negroes, they‘re getting pretty uppity these days and that‘s a problem for us since they‘ve got something now they never had before, the political pull to back up their uppityness. Now we‘ve got to do something about this, we‘ve got to give them a little something, just enough to quiet them down, not enough to make a difference.”

~Lyndon B. Johnson (Democrat)