RIPE: Fruit of Life

My little hands pushed away the tight coiled hairs from her teary-eyed face. I see an older reflection of me broken by familiar hands like rocks to a glass house. Made in her image, she gently grabbed my hands from her face.

“Don’t be ever be ripe enough for a man to eat you”
“What do you mean, mommy?”

Her caress pulled me in close to her chest, playing with my hair that she made in her image. Seeing the living impression of her she continued,

“Baby, you have are made by mother nature. Skin dyed by the sun, kissed by its rays. In you contain mothers nature. You are the fruit of it,” she smiled and grabbed my tiny nose.

I giggled, “Can I be an apple mommy, I like apples?

“You can be any fruit you want to be honey. You contain the seeds of life. You are the soil that forth the flowers. You have tears that cleanses me, you are joy, you are the smile on my face. You are power. You are black. Let no one, no man, nobody take it away from you. You have a power to move worlds and they know that. You are a woman.

I shot her a look of confusion, unaware of anything, “I just want to be an apple because they are sweet!”

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The Sunday Service in Whole Foods

382229_562747207078546_1208101830_nThe wonderful array of books, books, and more books, neatly placed on the shelves of Barnes & Noble  all in different size, colors and titles. Colorful literature with the only worry to decipher which lucky author will fulfill me today. I arrived thirty minutes early to my 7pm meet up in Whole Foods on Union Square eager to burn the isle of Barnes&Nobles with my curiosity. I spent the time pandering through the Ancient Knowledge & Hidden Mysteries, and Self-Help sections–my favorite sections ever! Picking up books that spoke deeply about Ancient Egypt and other Ancient Civilizations is a yearning of mine. I adore bridge the gap between my past and present. Plus, I am convinced humans were much more responsible and connected then todays dogma of connectivity and responsibility. Checking my phone after beating the strong wave of indecision that paralyzed me for the last fifteen-minutes, it read 7:04pm. Even when I try to be on time, I am late. It’s embedded in DNA like HTML Codes for me to be tardy.  I sent a text to my, in lack of better terms, friend that I am near while asking for his location for I surprisingly didn’t receive a text confirming my incessant tardiness.

I make way down Union Square park. The sun hid completely  on the other side of the world letting them know its soon to start a new day leaving the city the never sleeps to keep up the nightly duties. The bustling cars passed, people expediting streets,  and a couple romancing with the female shooting a quick look at me while laughing at her boyfriends tender kisses. Ahead of me reads the large green sign Whole Foods, fairly considerable in size in comparison to the competing stores but, not beating the famous numbers that stand high across a building. The numbers that rumored the end of the time, when in reality it just reads the time in military on the left and how many hours are before the hour struck 12 on the right.  I enter the health food realm with excitement until I despairingly saw the elongated lines.

I didn’t to come to spend anymore money though, I came to deliver these CD’s to a friend after a failed experience on trying to join their business plan–but that’s another story! I walk the stairs that was once unknown to me for many years. It lead to an open cafeteria filled with my dynamic people eating, talking, doing tarot cards and…with honor… people conducting a service of the Lord.

My friend raised his hand as I see him sitting next to people foreign to me. My blood began to boil in this short distance to him. I hoped to God that these strangers were not part of his team in which imagined him asking me belittling questions in front them: “Did you watch the CD’s? “, “No!, Well, why haven’t you?”, “You’re making excuses, you don’t have the success mentality like we spoke about. Remember you don’t want live in the employer quadrant!” Remember, remember, remember…Just know, I had comebacks for any and which way the windblown if his colleagues tried me.

At the table, an elderly lady sit comfortably in a black wool jacket with a matching hat. The wrinkles on her face etched and sketched every inch of her face. Another lady in a gray loose fitting sweater with fine short hair and supple brown skin sat on the end of the table. A black bag filled with books and a really bad, brown, unkept, shiny synthetic wig on top of it separated the two ladies. That wig, that beast, that horse hair was horrendous!  As I eyed this scene with much bewilderment,  I caught on my friend on the receiving end of the table. He sat with his legs crossed  and titled attentively listening to what I soon was about to learn.

I placed my bad on the table ready to pull of the agreement and leave immediately. No conversing, no trying to be friends, nothing but my ass on the 5 Train and my nose in my new book. “Are these your friends?” I asked with my face is slight disgust pointing at the weirdness in front of me. The lady in the gray sweater interrupts my question telling Ronald, the friend, to meditate on something. So I asked Ronald what were they talking about. I thought since the lady said meditate that this must be a conversation I would dive into with joy. Maybe these unknowns aren’t as weird as I thought to be. Maybe there wouldn’t a be rush to head home. Ronald who had on an orange dashiki I’m sure was made in Thailand and not Africa, shot a look up at me, “These are just people, we’re talking about being GAY.” Must he put so much emphasis on the word gay. I shook my head at the stupidity. I refused to get into some debate about sexuality. And for him to yet again talk to strangers, why couldn’t he sit alone like a normal New Yorker and be in his phone patiently  waiting for the CD’s? Have not his parents told him the adolescence rule about speaking to strangers. However, if they lured him in with candy…I want one.

Still confused as to how meditation met with being gay in a discussion, the old white lady rises from her seat in disbelief. “Something is wrong with you,” she said to Ronald.  Ronald combats her phobia  by telling me how she believes being gay is wrong for, yet of course, religious reasons. She turns to me slipping through the cracks of the tables, she was very soft spoken, so caring the tone of her voice that her ignorance felt loving and right. It wasn’t.  The lady in gray finally looks up at me. I was caught by surprise by her crossed eyedness. Things just now got too awkward. “You gay too?” asked the delicate toned elderly. “Nah, I’m straight. I don’t go through their struggles,” I said sarcastically. See, this the deal. I don’t like foolish questions that is none of anybody’s business. In these scenarios, I purposely lie in front of your face. It messes with ones prejudice or fools them completely, in the same moment, their ignorance speaks for them, as they often don’t hold back on words. “Good for you, You should speak to your friend about it,” Grandma suggested.  The lady in gray asked the same invasive  question so quickly with diligence it came off more as a proclamation then inquiry. I completely ignored her and looked to Ronald who still sat his chair sullen. His face appeared docile, innocent, and pale in expression.  The lady in gray goes in this whole sermon after Betty White trailed her nun looking ass out of our vision.

She rants horribly on how Ronald needs to meditate on his life decisions. Then detailed explained God’s workings in first person as if her consciousness was high enough to even speak for an entity the human race as a whole is slowly trying to understand. And so she went on:  “You see that lady next me I didn’t know and when she told me to take off my wig, I knew that was God speaking to me because she is a lady of faith, this is how God works. He expresses himself through you and I. He left his word. Don’t worry I accept you.” This angered me, how are you going to say you accept someone and tell one to meditate on how to live their life? When I addressed that to her, she fires her acceptance to me. Bitch, I don’t need you to accept me! I don’t even know you! How dare she flaunt her fake forgiveness in my face. The audacity of it all, be it that miserable, disgraceful relationship between her and that dirty, filthy, shit colored wig! I wanted to tell her so badly to meditate and accept that furry animal she hides under.

Instead I zipped my bag and left with Ronald following after me. The incident moments before I left in the past though Ron still felt indifferent. I made a pit stop at the Bank when he asked about my next moves, “I’m going home.”  He remained quiet before spilling out his feelings, “I’m really hurt…” I didn’t pay any mind, I was too focus on the ATM and how much money I was going to withdraw. I think twenty is doable. To be quite honest, I didn’t really care how he felt.  He has this tendency to speak to me in a chastising way especially during our business ordeal. A nasty distaste is left in my mouth refusing to care at all.

” I need a hug,” he commanded. At this point, was he just trying to stall? Because, I’m not for the nuisances and the woe is me narrative. No one told him to speak to strangers and actually sit there defenseless.  He actually agreed to meditate  on it! He made them feel right, he made himself feel weak. I glanced at him sharply, “Aw, you feel bad?” He nodded meekly before me. Just when he thought I was going to confide him in my arms like a protective brother, I pat him ever so lightly on the back. “Aw You’re a big boy. You’ll be ‘iight. When people try to undervalue me in passive aggressive ways I ignore it, or read the shit out of them, depending on the battle.” I cracked a half way smile hoping he caught the undertone shade I threw.  “You know before you came,” He started, “They old lady said, something worst then AIDS is coming my way and I am going to suffer.” My  eyes widened in disbelief. “Yeah, and to the black lady she said ‘You should take off that wig. I know it’s fake. You’re never going to get a man with that hair on.’ ” I blurted out laughing so hysterically I collided with a few pedestrians. I couldn’t believe the level of hate was going on at one table! He stood there lifeless in his poise as I tried to pick myself up and regain my composure. “I’m sorry,” I said wiping the saliva off my chin, “The health read is horrible  and this is why I don’t indulge in bitter people like her but, she flamed that other chick so badly. Now that was a classic!” He didn’t move an inch. “You know,” Ronald continued, “It’s hurts more because I am a Christian too!”  I took a deep sigh, knowing this was my cue to go home, “Well, these are your peoples. This is what they do. Hey, what can you do about it.” Placing on hand on his shoulder giving him a few shakes to wake him up from his state, I bid farewell.

I got my ass right on that 5 train, with my nose in my new book called, Science of the Mind.

 

 

 

Annukai The Genie

Annukai The Genie

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Advantage of Foresight

“Okay! Alright, Genie,” I said rubbing my hands on the lamp. “Appear!”  With grace, a cloud of smoke oozed out from the head of the lamp. The white, formless, cloud morphed into an Egyptian figure, so real and so intricate in design. The genie named Annukai appeared before me with his arms crossed, stern in his stature. I reached touch the reality before me, but my hands slipped through him. Sharply, I withdrew my hands looking both ways. Am I transparent? “No, You are real. I am the won who is not dense. I cannot fully become in your likeness without sacrificing my consciousness. I worked too damn hard, too many lifetimes to reach this point. I refuse,” said Annukai the Genie reading my thoughts.

I smiled. “Great, well, lets sit down and have some tea. I have plenty of request.” I pulled out the chairs at my backyard for me and for him, however, when he sat down he still appeared to be floating. He explained how it was pointless to sit and have tea unless I care to the join the festivities alone. Which I didn’t mind, of course, it was more tea for me. “The tea will just make a mess. I can’t consume earthly things. And by the way you guys cook, I refuse. It’s unhealthy,” He babbled.

“You must think you are better than thou, huh? You know you was once human before. Cut you shit!” I yelled.
“Yeah, but back in my eons food was food. Now food is rude. Rude to body. Rude to the planet. Rude to the soul. Rude to the–”
“I GET IT! Can I get to my request please. You chat too much, bro!”
“As you wish.”
“Wait, I hope that didn’t count as for one of my wishes right, cause…”
“Wishes are unlimited, but no”

I explained to him how I troubled the future of today. It has been so much going on in the world from homophobia, the Confederate flag, Caitlyn Jenner, College. You know name it, it’s an issue. I wanted a sense of security in my life. I hope the future to be a lot more open. Free. Pleasant. This genie would be able to help me with my answer, I suppose. Annukai explain how although my wishes were unlimited each wish came with it a token of sacrifice. My specific request to see the future whenever I wanted cost me one day of my life span. “Everything in the universe is about balance,” he said.  Which I can totally agree with.

I agreed with the terms and conditions of wish making. I signed the bill with my blood, two tree leaves, and my gold ring. Perplexed I asked, “What you need my gold ring for?”

“I like Gold.”
“Excuse me…this ring is my favorite ring. That’s not fair. It’s not part of your ‘ritual’ I bet.”
” Its not you are right. But I like gold, so hand it over”, he demanded. I refused. “We are not continuing. I need one earth element for this process to be done.”

“Then use the dirt on the ground, you need me to bring some tap water, use my tea, use something else my ring is not even an element. It’s a ring, for Christ sake,” I said.
“Gold. Symbol AU. Atomic number 79. Melting point  1,948°F (1,064°C). Boiling Point  5,378°F (2,970°C). Atomic Mass 196.96657 ± 0.000004 u. Electron Configuration  [Xe] 4f14 5d10 6s1.” Annukai taunted. ” I like gold.”

“Oh Bitch, I give up.” I rolled my eyes handing him over my ring. It’s probably not even real gold anyways, just gold covered nickel or some shit.”
Nickle. Symbol Ni –”
“NOT AGAIN. JUST FINISH PLEASE,” I shouted. He laughed putting all the ingredients into some mysterious black box he formed in thin air. I was amazed by his magic, but then again, he is a genie after all. Once he closed the black box he stood still with a smile on his face. I looked at him awkwardly unbeknownst  to what is going on. I put my head down on the table feeling my stomach growl. This needs to hurry up.  I peeked above from my arms to check in on whats going on. “Annukai, is it done?” He stood immobile again.  I went to reach for the lamp underneath the table. I knocked on the lamp as if it was a door to my friends house. I repeatedly called his name when he snapped back into reality which caused me to jump backwards in fear.

“You humans lack patience,” he said.
“What the fuck bro! Don’t scare me like that!”

The deed was done, though I don’t know why he went away. I don’t even care at this point. I just want my powers. “Okay, sir so what will your first foresight out the day be?” He asked.
” I want to see what my mom will be making for dinner?”
“You do know, that will cost you one–”
“I am hungry!”

I figured, “Hey, Why Not Follow This Stranger Around”

I’m sitting in Starbucks with my laptop surfing the bloggers of WordPress. Starbucks is not my particular place, but its convenient.  This café is close to my home plus the weather is mild and comfortable to my skin. So I figured,”Hey, why not get some fresh air.” I ordered me several oatmeal cookies-which by  the way cost me a fortune-but it’s Sunday and I figured,”Hey, why not treat myself to my favorite cookies.” So I did.  I placed myself at a table for four. I am feeling somewhat like a humanitarian, otherwise, my ass would be at a table of two being very selfish with my space. Today is Sunday the sun is polite, I ordered my favorite cookies, so I fiqured, “Hey, why not be a little more inviting.” So I did.

I just finished posting on my blog “Too Good To Be True” When a figure decided to sit at the other end of the table. I took a quick glance. Then, I took another glance. This male is shirtless with a black Yankees baseball cap.  I did say the sun was polite, not  generous. I shrugged my shoulders without the care in the world. I thought maybe he is was waiting for somebody or maybe he was homeless. It’s none of my business anyways, the New York way!

I opened up YouTube on my browser and started playing Arianna Grande’s album that has been leaked.  I would buy the album, but this negro is broke until his credit card is clear! I was so in the zone I didn’t see the message my mother left me. “Did you cook dinner like I asked?” my mother texted. My jaw dropped I completely forgot about dinner. I checked the time and it read 6:45pm I am only 15 minutes away by foot which is enough time to cook dinner before my mom comes home.

I closed my laptop in a hurry and gathered my belonging. Before I left I took a quick glance at him. He was concentrating very deeply staring downward at the table.  “Yeah,” I thought “This guy is a weirdo.” It’s like why not meditate somewhere else.  I forward towards the door quickly thinking of maybe running home. Before I opened the double doors out of Starbucks, shirtless decides to grab my arm. I recoiled suddenly.

This guy face was chiseled with about a two week scruff on his jawline. He looked every eager and intense like I owed him something. Shirtless  asks for my name, and, for some reason, I replied. “It’s…Dontae, why?” I said cautiously. “I thought so,  I I’ve been looking for you. I need you to come with me now and you forgot this.” He handed me my half bitten oatmeal cookie I left on the table. “Oh my God, thank you this was a fortune,” I said.
“Okay, we must go.”
“Go where, I don’t even know you name”
“I cannot disclose our location yet, just trust me”
“And you name is…?”
“Black,” he responded.
“Black? That is so racist. You don’t even look black. You look Spanish and should change you name to Spaniard”
He made way out the store looking back at me chumping away on this cookie of love, “It means power.”
“I don’t care what it means,” I said “It can mean African-American. It is still racist and you needs to change you name.”
“Look time is of an essence are you coming or not?” he asked sternly.  I stood still in front of the doorway as he held the door open. I rolled my eyes and shrugged my shoulders. I figured, “Hey, its Sunday, nice weather, awesome cookies why not follow this stranger to an unknown location. It makes a great story to tell. I’ll have something to write about just in case WordPress makes a Prompt about strangers in a café. Like how rare that would be, right?

He took me to his all black Honda Accord. “You are so racist, its not even funny.” I screamed.  “Would you shut the fuck up already with that bullshit!” He blurted. I shook my head in disbelief. He showed me the inside of his trunk. It was filled with baby pictures of me, that I never seen before. “How the hell do you have this, where did you get this from?” I asked, worried. “Luke I am you father” he said in his best Dark Vader voice.
“You are so racist I swear, first you name is black then your car is black, now you pretending to be my dark father. You disgust me”

I awoken with the side my face red hot in a fetal position. It was pitched black and cramp. I think I am in the trunk of his car. I tried to feel around me to see if my laptop was still with me. I started to panic. I squirmed around the tight space into my pocket to call my mother. Then I thought, let me call my friend first. So I did.

“hey dontae, wait you still owe me my metrocard dumbass!”
“Shut up, Taylor, look…I think my dad kidnapped me”
“you have a dad,? he kidnapped you? where are you?”
“Look I don’t really know, just do me a favor. Go to my backyard there is a mat that is going to have my spare key to get in my house. Take it then make dinner before my mother comes home”
“Dontae are you okay?”
“Yes, Girl, Would you just do what I say please”
“I am about to call the police…”
“No! don’t look just do me that favor”
“I don’t know you already owe me a metrocard. I need to get to work….hello, are you there”
“Yes, sorry seems like we hit a bump are you going to do it or not?”
“yeah, fine, what is your dads name though?”
“It’s Black!”
“Oh Lord how racist that’s horrible”
“Right! I know, and his car is black too!”
“A Double whammy racist”
“Yes girl, okay I’m going. I’m going to text you when I can”
“Don’t forget about my metrocard either asswhole!”

Daily Prompt: Greetings, Stranger

Mental Trauma

They argued with such vitriol that they didn’t notice the children standing between them, until the unforeseen happened.

When I think back that’s all I remember. Being a little boy deathly afraid of my father because that’s what he wanted. He spoke loudly on a daily bases to remind my brother and I we were inferior to his being. His size that stood 6’0  high and over 200 pounds, mostly muscle from his high school years of being a star football player.

His eyes were blank when him and my mother viciously argued. My mothers voice powerful for a black woman was unmatched to my fathers. Friday nights were not the glory days  adults and kids awaited for. While Fridays marked the day of freedom for others, Fridays marked the day of trauma and distraught, as it foreshadowed the hell stricken weekend. Paranoia was my best friend that manifested into a deep soulful hate that lived inside of me.

I had thoughts of killing my father for the drunk nights he would come on the weekends. I would stand only a little over 5 feet staring at him with my lips curled in, eyes pinched together, and little fist balled thinking of that steak knife. The enemy would lay passed out on the couch with his sliva peaking out from his lips while snoring.

He would wake me up and my brother up and speak to us from 11 at night till 3 in the morning about nothing. He forced us to stay up while he condemned us for being kids. He would tell us we don’t need any friends and we don’t need family. No one will care for us as his family never cared for him.

My brother and I both less then age of ten and three years apart never knew what a quiet home was between my mom and dad. Deplorable slurs of words clashed between the two giants  violently every weekend for all of my childhood.

 Nights of him sending us in our room crying behind a door while our ears were pressed against it was normal. Unbreakable nervousness rode the thick red water in our veins when he would threaten to break my mothers ankles. Tears of silent prayers ran on our cheeks.

I can’t seem to forget a history that was part of me as I remained isolated disabling the need to express my grief in what I went through at home. As it was “no ones business,” as my father would say, “what happens at home”.

So I developed the ability to compartmentalize the terror for weekends only. This was my only coping strategy although I was unaware at the time. I gained victory in my dreams as a kid when I would beat my father off my mother. Or when I do grave harm on to him falsely giving me courage I never had growing up.

For being so afraid to die in his arms.

Daily Prompt – For Posterity

Kindness Granted.

Kindness Granted.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Kindness of Strangers.”

I held the heavy metal door for the middle age man to walk through, because I know my manners. “Thank You,” he said.  The man continued to the following set of doors holding them open for me to pass, I guess to return the favor.  I walked through. “You’re welcome!” He said sternly.  I looked behind my shoulders and shrugged. I assume he wanted me to be kind. Who said I was a kind stranger anyways?

Circles and More Circles and More

Circles and More Circles and More

If you were a geometric shape (e.g. square, circle, isosceles triangle, etc.), what would you be and why?

So I am going to do part of the The Finicky Cynic “June ‘Jour’ Challenge” I am rather late in it, but this prompt stood out to me the most. It took me no time to answer either. What geometric shape would I be…hmm, easily, a circle?

So why a circle? A circle is too me the basic, original geometric shape that has the deepest meaning. It’s the basic design leading into the Flower of life symbol which is said to be the design that created the universe. As every math problem, every line, every thought stems from the creation of the Flower of Life. It is only right I pick something that represents the deepest part of me.

The Flower Of Life

 The Flower Of Life 

The flower of life is part of the sacred Geometry our ancestors some how strangely knew of. The great ancient civilizations in our human history all shared this one symbol. It can be found in every major religion some are remixed into portions of the symbol, but overall, it reaches every cornerstone of the world. It can seen etched in stone and clay tablets in flow with the story of their civilization. Somehow, the civilization knew all about this symbol with no connections with each other. How is that even possible?

The makings of the symbol consist of evenly drawn circles overlapping each other to form flower like symbols. It’s actually very easy to make with a protractor. you just draw a circle and then at the anywhere on the line of the circle you place the point of the protractor and draw the same pattern over and over. It’s quite the learning experience as every inch, every placement counts.

This symbol is everywhere in nature. As for me, while going through my spiritual journey I was enamored at the mass of information I was receiving. Learning I am part of everything and everything is part of me is astounding. A Circle is never ending as I am never ending. We are never ending. We are always is!

How fun is that…( better then being told I’m a sinful, dirty beast, born into a evil world and wickedness).

Here is SpiritScience  Better in-dept explanation on The Flower Of Life. These People are just Ah-May-Zing!