Legacies

Legacies

Together we sit in different
Corners of the classroom
From different corners of
The earth and its nations
Yet united we have come to
Uproot the grisly tree that
Once bore a strange fruit
And in its place transplant
The lost legacies pulled up
From the Atlantic seafloor
Stolen from the African shore
Of Ghana, of Togo, of Benin
By pirates of the Caribbean
Behind closed doors we have
Discovered the harsh reality
The untold, the unheard of
Forgotten cold case mysteries
Replaced with a history coated
In refined plantation sugarcane
Because it’s easier to swallow
To accept and follow their ways
Forgetting the days of slavery
The shackles and chains of events
Of struggle, of sharecropping
Of segregation and emancipation
Of education and innovation
Rebellion, protest, and progress
While searching for our own voice
As Douglas did, and then DuBois
Truth and hope were muffled by
Noise of nonsense and white lies
But our eyes are now open wide
With a newborn awareness we
Tune into a different frequency
Listening to the musical notes of
Reggae, jazz, rhythm and blues
Reading Angelou and Langston
Hues of color evoked through
The souls of these black folk
In order to give us a memory
Us, the students of lost legacies
Now, known as kings and queens
Knowing we can achieve all things
And carry it back to our corners
Teaching each of our nations about
The African story, the American story
The Human story... Our story

JMC
6/10/10
(c) 2010

Livicated to the students of my African-American History class, 2010.

Revolutionary Life

Revolutionary Life

I’m much more revolutionary than the ordinary
Compare me to a Special Forces unit of military
When situations get hairy like my natty dreads
I still push onward all the way to the very edge

They wonder why I wear the Africa medallion
An Ithiopian style even though I’m mostly Italian
One simple reason, I’m in Selassie’s battalion
And until it’s over, it’s still Babylon I’m battling

I get JAH message across like a BlackBerry might
Or Barry White when a queen comes into sight
I’m not perverted, my eyes just become averted
A natural instinct since Adam and Eve first flirted

I play some reggae music to get through each day
The sounds of Culture, Sizzla, Buju, and Bob Marley
Every singer and deejay help to show the right way
And maybe hip-hop when it’s got something to say

I’m trying to cross back from this side of the Atlantic
I’m frantic to reach Addis Ababa and see the gigantic
Stone stelai of Axum, where civilization had begun
Where the Ark of the Covenant sits in St. Mary of Zion

I teach lessons manifesting from beyond any book
Telling the youths that history requires a second look
I could have been a pirate, robbing them like a crook
But the revolutionary life was the style that I took

JMC
5/31/10
(c) 2010

Thirty Strong

Just a couple of days ago, on May 22nd, I turned 30 years old. That is an age I just had never imagined being when I was younger. Even 5 years ago when I first began to blog, I was right in the middle of my twenties and still never really thought much about it. This last year though it had started to hit me that the Big 3-0 was looming right around the corner, and of course as it is said, "time waits on no one." With my birthday quickly approaching I had created a “20’s Bucket List” in my head to take note of certain things I would have liked to have a last chance of doing before I turned 30. I did in fact achieve some of those more realistic goals, but ultimately in retrospect it didn’t even matter what I did or did not do, because everything shall come in its due season.

I really don’t fuss too much over imaginary boundaries... and time is one of those borderlines, an illusion when the truth be told. Why does turning 30 change anything? Why would it cause any anxiety in my heart? The reason is because we as a society place a value on it, but the value is often overrated. There is no magic spell or sudden change that occurs. Of course we age, but aging is not intrinsically a measure of anything. I have seen fools at ages where we would consider most of them to be “elders” and I have seen remarkable wisdom in the hearts of those we would call “youths”. Biological maturity and mental and spiritual maturity are on different planes of existence. Obviously growing older biologically requires no effort (on the other-hand trying to stay young requires all of one’s effort!) You just can’t fight it, all you can do is accept the fact and make the most of it, and I would say to go further and embrace it. At the same time we can stay “young at heart” and mentally sharp at any age.

It has also been said that “30 is the new 20” and that may be true in a sense because it seems like more and more young adults (20’s and... 30’s?) are in a state of perpetual adolescence. Things have changed, people do not “grow up” as fast, or at least they do not take on the full role of adulthood. I’m not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing though. After turning 30 I definitely want to keep a youthful vibe, but at the same time I want to be something greater than before. I want to achieve certain levels in life that a grown man should. Think of the very word, “man”. Doesn’t every young male want that earn that description? What is the measure of a man? For instance, I want to find my wife and start a family of my own, I want to travel the world more, I want to publish some of my works or record some more music, I want to stay progressive in my teaching career. Holding on to yesteryears can seem ideal but it stagnates the mind and keeps us from living our stages of life accordingly. I want to be more of a man than I am now.

I don’t quite know what to expect but I have a whole decade to reflect on being Thirty-Something, after all I’m still fresh in the door and content with being just plain old 30 for now! One thing I do know though is that I am Thirty Strong... 30 years of experience, of growth, of accumulated wisdom. During my twenties I graduated college, I came to truly know JAH, I began my trod in Rastafari, I became closer to my family, I successfully started my career, I fostered my creativity, I have made new friends and new relationships, and so many other things, both good and bad, that I would not change at all. If I paused my life at the age of 20, I would have never reached a certain level, and I would never have received my blessings. I hope my 30’s are twice as nice as my 20’s were. I hope that I still cannot fathom what is in store for me, the same way I couldn’t see past a certain age when I was younger. However this time I have faith in my heart. I know for sure that good things will come my way, and all I have to do is line up and receive it.

I certainly was given a sign of things to come during my Earthstrong this year. I had a great time with my parents and brothers the weekend before when we could all be together and just when I thought I was going to have a rather uneventful passing of my actual birthday, some good friends blessed me with a surprise party to celebrate the occasion... and that was something very special to me (I may not make a fuss over much, but I still need joy!). Both situations showed me that I had love in my life and that is all I need to proceed! Love is the foundation to build upon.

There is a time and place for everything. The time starts now, the place starts here... I’m ready to keep living life to the fullest and receive my birthright! I give thanks and praise to the Most High JAH for my Thirtieth Year! Standing at 30-Strong! That’s my journey thus far...

Bless,
JAHsh

Full Out Mi Tam

Full Out Mi Tam

Now that I can full out mi tam
Mi seh, ever since I full out mi tam
People dem cyan seem to overstand
That I a Zion soulJAH in a foreign land

See how my locks grow
Just so yuh done know
I&I an ambassador
To the King of Kings

Tek mi fi no poppy show
I will go toe to toe
Fighting the wicked
And all of their schemes

Everywhere that I go
People dem want to know
Why I bide up inna
The red gold and greens

Why do they galang so
Turning from friend to foe
Just cause I reject
All their Babylonian dreams

Now that I can full out mi tam
Mi seh, ever since I full out mi tam
People dem cyan seem to overstand
That I a Zion soulJAH in a foreign land

I beat to a different drum
Yes, the Nyahbinghi one
I really don’t care
If they think I a fool

They can go have their fun
Mocking the moon and sun
I don’t have time
I have JAH Works to do

I’m keeping them on the run
With a roar like a mad lion
Flash mi dreadlocks
But I still keep my cool

Never see me with no weapon
Neither a knife nor gun
Life over death
It is the Father’s rule

They want I to be a baldhead man
They want I to be a cleanface man
They just can’t stand to see a Rastaman
A soulJAH marching to the Mama Land

Now that I can full out mi tam
Mi seh, ever since I full out mi tam
People dem cyan seem to overstand
That I a Zion soulJAH in a foreign land

JMC
5/21/10
(c) 2010

My Vineyard

My Vineyard

Every fig to its own fig tree
Every fruit to its own vine
I know that I shall always
Have a place that is mine
From two stems that were
Grafted together by twine
Tended by His loving hands
Two became one, combined
Unto them were three branches
Following the Master’s design
Grown in different directions
Yet all raised by the sunshine
I was ripened in my due season
Aged by the passage of time
Picked in the days of harvest
When I had been redefined
Blessed over by the Son and
Changed like water into wine
Repented and then fermented
So that I could reach my prime
Spreading joy in JAH garden
Helping young shoots to climb
To achieve a sense of purpose
Seeds fertilized by the divine
Someday I too shall blossom
Out from a love intertwined
When I will bear forth fruit
A new variety of my own kind
Planted safely among my roots
Where they shall always find
A home back in my vineyard
In the soil of my bloodline

JMC
5/17/10
(c) 2010

Divine Spark

Divine Spark

I imagine that this is how
It must have been like
In the very beginning
When a radiant divine spark
Came and kindled the dark
Thus bringing forth life...

And so, there we were
Seated like august royalty
As noble kings and queens
Upon our own four thrones
A mighty council speaking
With four separate voices

As hosts of ancient elements
Earth, heat, air and water
Three sons, one daughter
Conjoined by the ether...
The heartbeat, the rhythm
Mystic feature of the cosmos

The appointed time had come
Because in the calm awaited
A maelstrom of poetic words
And waves of inspired sounds
United in celestial power
Held back only by the tongue

Then with every utterance
Brilliance rushed forth
Out from our open mouths
Shooting from four corners
To seek the hidden depths
Of the vast empty universe

This energy meeting and then
Swirling like luminous clouds
Hovering above the expanse
Ripe with light just right
For painting an empty canvas
With strokes of His genius

Each breath as a solar wind
To blow across the surface
Igniting minds and hearts
With eyes blossoming open
Like foliage in the sun
All became one, it was done

This had been the stage show
Where, enveloped in dark
A divine spark ignited the
Atmosphere and made clear
The visages of those who came
To witness this replication

This is how it must have been
The first acts of Creation...

JMC
4/17/10
(c) 2010

Poetic Presence

Yesterday evening, April 15th, I had the pleasure to participate in a poetry reading with some very talented friends... both poets and musicians. The event was called “Spontaneous Poetry and Music”, and it was arranged by a good friend, and accomplished poet, to take place at the school where he teaches. He had excitedly told me about it for days, and in hindsight his enthusiasm would certainly be the harbinger for things to come. I had been looking forward to the occasion for weeks and I knew that it would be a perfect opportunity for me to share my words and expressions with a group of people, but I had no idea just how wonderful it would be.

I must say that the vibes were on the highest level from the very beginning. There is nothing like a whole lot of love and welcoming to set things straight. Any nervousness that I may have felt quickly disappeared as I was in the presence of great people who were ready to share their hearts and minds, just like myself. After greeting my fellow artists, old friends and new friends alike, I took my place on a stool, one of four arranged in a slight semi-circle. This was where I and the other poets sat. In the middle of the circle, splitting us into pairs, were the musicians... percussion, drums, and guitar. Behind us were beautiful paintings, one of Bob Marley, and the draped red, gold, and green colors of the Ethiopian banner shone against the background of black curtains. Everything was set-up to perfection on an intimate stage, lights gently dimmed, chairs of the crowd before us, video cameras ready to tape, reggae music playing as guests took their seats. I could see some of my friends in the audience, and I was in the company of my colleagues making their own final arrangements.

Then in what almost seemed as a mirage, I saw my parents walk in. It was an absolute surprise because I did not expect them to make it. I had invited them to the event and last weekend I showed them the flyer advertising the evening, but in the back of my mind I considered it as just a formality and an update as to what I was doing. My Mom had called me a few hours before to wish me luck and mentioned that they probably would not be able to come because it was a busy time. So, needless to say, when I did see my Mom and Dad standing there, I had no words... none of the poems that I selected to bring with me and read could convey how I felt in their presence. My parents had never seen me in my element, with my music or poetry, at least not since my teenage years with school events and such. I didn’t know what they would think of my works, I didn’t know what to expect... but I was happy that they had come. After making introductions, I sat back on my stool flipping through some of my poems, thinking on which ones to read, how to deliver them, and being aware of my parents sitting in the crowd.

What followed was truly magical. We didn’t know exactly how things would proceed... because as billed, it was spontaneous. I timidly volunteered to begin with a poem of my own, one that I had decided to make my first reading. But our beloved host and fellow poet had forgotten to allow the honored percussionist to open the evening. And so, the elder of 70-odd years, with massive dreadlocks tied back, his beard long and dreaded as well, greeted us all and gave thanks and praises to the Creator while venerating our ancestors and elders, those present and in spirit. It was the perfect beginning, the vibes were in order, and I felt at ease. After our opening ritual, I looked down at my poems resting before me on a music stand. Before the beautiful blessing had begun I was about to read my chosen poem, the one honoring my ancestors. I could barely believe it, but I knew it was more than mere coincidence... it was purposeful. It was a natural mystic, ordaining me to continue properly. So I read. This first one was for my family... for my Mom and Dad, for my grandparents, for all those who came before me, it was my tribute to them, my thanks to them. I could see my parents listening intently, smiles on their faces as I shaped my words, and then came the applause of the crowd at the end. I was now in another place. The rest of the evening was a fantastic collage of art... the other poets and I traded back and forth, different voices, different rhythms, woven together with beautiful tunes from the guitar and the different drums, the interactions with the audience, the presence and the smiles of my parents. Time didn’t seem to matter at all, but when we did conclude our evening it felt like we still could have continued for hours more, both performers and audience alike.

After the show, guests came up to me, expressing their admiration and appreciation, all of which was wonderful. Then, up came my parents... smiling, embracing me, and congratulating me. All I could think about was how incredible I felt, how thankful I was for my Mom and Dad being able to see me do what I love, how grateful I was that they really did appreciate it, and how I was so glad that I had invited them to come see me in the first place. I couldn’t remember a time I was happier, not any time recently. Something amazing happened, all the fears or discomforts that I had when it came to my parents accepting me, real or imagined, seemed to wash away. All the barriers broke down when I saw them before me, proud of me, happy for me, impressed by me... understanding of me. Me: the poet, me: the dreadlock, me: the Rasta, me: the son, me: the friend, me: the individual. I could not stop glowing... and I am still glowing as I write this.

I mark this occasion as a milestone in my life, a time that I will never forget, and a moment that meant so much to me. There is nothing compared to the love, support and approval of those that mean the most to you, such as my parents. I felt like a proud child, reverberating a moment in time... from a performance in a school play, a display of artwork, an excited hug on the reception of good news. Everything channeled and spun together to the present, in their presence. I can imagine myself feeling the same way no matter the time, no matter my age or their age. I give thanks and praise to JAH, the Almighty, for the blessing and for my accomplishment. I give thanks to my parents, and all of my family for their love. I give thanks for my friends for their support and love. For everyone’s presence that night, I do give thanks. It was a poem in itself, with every word, every line, in its proper place. A Poetic presence...

More Love & More Life,
JAHsh