Where The Brightest Minds Have The Darkest Corners
Tag Archives: living

NaPoWriMo 12:30 ~ In Transit Across The Celestial Meridian

by The AOMuse

Rolling high noon
Sun like yolk of egg intact
perched upon a plate of sky
feeding freely light
to energize human activity

Twin pistols burning hot
aimed and ready
unable to Corral
an O.K. sense of ethics
before boiling point
when gunfight ensues
no bystander innocent
safe from catchment
of crossfire

We are trapped
in passage of time
reading the milliseconds
questioning a desire
to take our time
as the day labors on
laborers longing
for their time in the Sun
so work seems tedious
and reward lackluster

Let us prefer being seen
as players in a reality show
called Earth
where a Sun creeping
across the celestial meridian
is recognized to be
a deity worthy of worship

For only working ritual
which will earn you Heaven
is cultivating
a life of respect
for planetary cohabitation
and biospheric cooperation

Anything less
would be uncivilized.

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End Notes by Haki Madhubuti

by The AOMuse

if parting is necessary
part as lovers.
part as two people
who can still
smile & talk & share
the good & important
with each other
part
wishing the other
happy
happy life
in a world
fighting against the
beautiful,
fighting against the
men & women,
sisters & brothers
Black as
we.


Review: Simple Wisdom for Rich Living

by The AOMuse

Simple Wisdom for Rich Living Simple Wisdom for Rich Living by Oseola McCarty
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Oseola McCarty’s tiny tome of consolidated life wisdom found its way into my library while I was searching out a present at a local bookstore for my co-parent. The text stirred the very well of my discomfort throughout the reading and found me still unsettled as I flipped the final page.

On one hand, her words struck an immediate emotional chord as sage elderly insight emerging from the spring of Great Depression economic realities and Post Reconstruction Jim Crow era social conditions. Her personal aphorisms are as quaint and heartwarming as words that could have been just as easily spoken from my grandparents Robert, Lily, Shay or Katherine in some conversation about the perils of the modern day. On the other hand, I felt a sense of historical revisionism pervading the celebration afforded her personal act of unselfishness. The notion that during her life, the same people who would honor her had neither cause nor desire to afford a simple washerwoman the dignity of being looked in the eye struck me as the height of insult. McCarty does not have to consider it this way, but I identify her amongst my own elders and feel vindicated in taking umbrage on her behalf.

In one reflection, Paul Laughlin recounts the reaction of correspondents who felt that McCarty reminded them of someone they once knew. He goes on to cite “an immigrant mother”, “a church janitor” and “maids and housekeepers” amongst their memories. In each instance, the hindsight is reflected upon some warm individual employing devotion and humility in the accomplishment of a menial task whom had aided or been kind to them throughout their life, but that they had managed to forget anyway. One is brought wonder if they were really honoring McCarty or merely attempting to assuage the guilt of having not honored all of the others.

Questionable motives aside, there is much practical insight to be found in the words of Oseola McCarty. Amongst my favorites is the following “There’s a lot of talk about self esteem these days. It seems pretty basic to me. If you want to feel proud of yourself, you’ve got to do things you can be proud of. Feelings follow actions.” These words and her intense devotion to the work of washing clothes whether originating out of personal desire or a life proscribed from all other possibility offer us an opportunity to learn of family, frugality and simplicity. If we can embody these three concepts, while accessing all of the exploratory space available to us in the present day, I think we can know the full meaning of the richness McCarty invested in her own life.

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Sun Jazz

by The AOMuse

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papa used to
tune that
pan flute
for hours
until it
tamed my
childish
talkback
called
studious me
to the knee
for a music
lesson
where
there
was only
movement

manhood is
a measurement
of
the distance
between
being dynamic
and standing
still
for stillness
is not
inactivity

no matter
what the porch
playing
banjo bluegrass
suth’ner
might make
you funny
northern folk
consider

can you
hear rhythm
when the
the room stops
spinning?

play the
sheet music
improv
by ear
before
the song is
composed

do you
tap your
toe at
the stairwell
edge
beckoning
that bojangles
blackness
to rain down
on you
like rays
of light
while
you shuffle
a melody
out them
grains of sand
you ain’t
wasted
in the hourglass
from all
your life
before time?

time
is moving
as the sun
rises
and sets

and somehow
i know
don’t nobody
do much
arranging
after dark

summon me
some sun jazz
i want
to play
away every
warm moment
i got left
in this life


Swan Song for Malangatana

by The AOMuse

Art is an ugly abstraction
of a life beautiful and spontaneous;
a messy marvel comic genius
in which the only superhero
is the one you become
once you’ve had yourself torn down to build up.

Once you’ve abdicated innocence
in the excess
and chosen a focused aim to reclaim it.

Art is this mumbled mouthed medium
where reality stands still
for but a moment
and beckons you to desire
to change it.

Wane not for new brushes
nor a cleaner canvas,
want for nothing more
than what your hands
can now behold
in this imperfect present.

Make your presence known
now and forever.

Create beauty
in the shifting sands
of a timeline fleeting
because nothing lasts.

Not even the memory
of art.
Merely its faint impact
passing down through
time.

Living on the lips..hands..fingers
of this living lineage
of we who continue
to create.


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