tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61902929921503446932012-02-21T04:09:19.538-08:00Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.comBlogger1401100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-1574728075870532592012-02-20T08:31:00.001-08:002012-02-20T10:36:43.064-08:00

He was OUR Picasso. He Was Our Shining and Most Artistic Prince. Unfortunately, unless you were/are a hardcore art groupie/consumer, historian or appreciator of Fine Art, chances are you may never have even heard of him. His name was Romare Bearden.Romare Howard Bearden was born on September 2, 1911, to Richard-Howard and Bessye Bearden in Charlotte, North Carolina. He died in New York City on

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-38884738255041324892012-02-13T12:39:00.000-08:002012-02-14T10:22:35.286-08:00

Sometimes, you don’t have to be a fortune teller, a psychic or even clairvoyant to see into the future. Sometimes, if you just live long enough, you can see the destiny of others unfold before your eyes.Sometimes, you’d rather not know any details of that destiny, because it isn’t always so pretty. Sometimes, you come to know things, only GOD should know, like what will happen, to whom it will

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-83880053994465982612012-02-12T05:18:00.000-08:002012-02-12T14:44:12.263-08:00

1963-2012Those Who Knew You In Newark Still Call You "Nippy." To Close Friends And Family, You Will Always Be "Nippy." To The World, And For The Ages, You Will Always BeWhitney... Just Whitney...Our Greatest Songbird! Our Iconic Princess! Majestic and Regal! Our Hope! Our MostMagnificent Whitney!!!We Thank You So Much For Your Gift. You Possessed A Voice, Kissed

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-36785651222320381642012-02-11T04:01:00.000-08:002012-02-16T09:42:58.787-08:00

Beyonce Knowles and Jay-Z have shared the first pictures of their daughter, Blue Ivy Carter. The superstar couple - who welcomed their first child into the world on January 7 - unveiled a set of intimate family shots on social networking site Tumblr, which show a beaming Beyonce tenderly cradling the tot in her arms and the rapper comforting his adorable daughter as she sleeps. In an accompanying

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-9570629929269074272012-02-08T10:43:00.000-08:002012-02-10T15:52:54.419-08:00

A DREAM DEFERREDWhat happens to a dream deferred?Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore-- And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over-- like a syrupy sweet?Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.Or does it explode?The above piece was written by the poet Langston Hughes. It is a powerful statement that addresses not only the condition of being poor,

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-47025552344958201142012-02-06T11:58:00.000-08:002012-02-07T09:20:25.164-08:00

Last week, the tragic death of Don Cornelius came as a sudden shock to a lot of people... myself duly included. It delayed the plan I had to blog about the importance of us all observing this month of February in remembrance of Black History. Today, with the dawning of a new week will mark the first in a series of entries posted in celebration of the history, accomplishments, and triumphs of

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-11972655735907627342012-02-01T06:47:00.000-08:002012-02-04T13:45:04.561-08:00

LOS ANGELES (AP) — Don Cornelius, creator of the long-running and pioneering TV dance show "Soul Train," shot himself to death Wednesday morning at his home, police said. He was 75. Officer responding to a report of a shooting found Cornelius at his Mulholland Drive home at around 4 a.m., police said. He was pronounced dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound at 4:56 a.m. at Cedars-Sinai Medical

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-78819703495501917082012-01-30T06:16:00.000-08:002012-02-01T05:48:17.077-08:00

Lately, there's been so much going on, going wrong, demanding me to suck it up and just be strong inside my orbit that it would be so easy to fling these great chunks of rage and hurl these bruise-colored blues soundly into the faces of people who are clearly unworthy of receiving them. *Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeathe! Just Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeathe, Lin!*The truth is: I don’t wanna become one

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-80773763693782067412012-01-23T09:17:00.000-08:002012-02-15T12:15:21.280-08:00

Loud and tender as a growling prayer, she was The Blues, embodied in fair skin and platinum hair. She was a certified Blues traveler. The Blues were trapped inside the shoes she wore, and they wrapped themselves around her legs, her waistline, her vocal chords, and her Life, like indigo boa constrictors. She was so brilliantly bitter with a belly full of rage and those Blues were her Saving

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-8135273865818281902012-01-18T03:46:00.000-08:002012-02-09T12:35:24.081-08:00

Everyone dies... but not everyone really, truly lives. Let us make it our mission to LIVE before we die!If last year taught me anything of value it is this: No matter what calamity befalls us in our lives, we must continue to LIVE, OUT LOUD. Sounds pretty elementary, doesn't it? But there are some things that can cripple us if we don't keep our wits about us.Has anything ever brought you down to

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-11960197438007787172012-01-15T07:49:00.000-08:002012-01-25T04:44:09.905-08:00

I marchedBecause My Freedom wasA bastardized entity.I marched because...A contemptuous AmericaMade a slaughter ofMy dignity. We marched becauseOur flesh Had become The food of rabid beasts.I marched becauseMen, with my skinHung from nooses…Strung on poplar trees.We marched becauseInjustice had becomeThe common rule…We marched becauseThe Constitution Had run out ofExcuses.I marchedBecause the klan

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-37969232912419291612012-01-11T10:17:00.000-08:002012-01-12T09:13:45.194-08:00

With The People's Choice Awards scheduled for broadcast this evening, the award season is officially underway. Within the next few weeks and months we can expect to see an overflow of celebs, beautiful people, actors, actresses, musicians, and their groupies walking the red carpet and steadily congratulating themselves with the presentation of the Golden Globes, Critics Choice, Oscars, NAACP

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-24154699580316590572012-01-09T05:33:00.001-08:002012-01-10T10:44:31.594-08:00

Congratulations "Ingrid Jackson" & Shawn Carter AKA Beyonce and Jay-Z!Mad congrats to the talented super-couple on the birth of their first child together, 7 pound Blue Ivy Carter… born on Saturday evening January 7th, at Lenox Hill Hospital in NYC. Both mother and child are reported to be doing just fine…And now… for the first official portrait of Beyonce and Child…C’mon! Don’t even FRONT!

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-54779610660231091172012-01-05T15:47:00.000-08:002012-02-07T16:21:56.186-08:00

Could you loveA cat like me?Black like me?Knowing how we be? Could you loveA word-pimpSpeaking the woozy-Hemp-inspired-speakIn this bitter-Sweet jazzedRelease ofPoems? Could you loveA cat like me?Black like me?The unsung singer? A noise and sho-nuff Joy-bringer whoCroons and spoons you inThe passionateGush and BreathOf rhythmic Songs...Could ya loveA cool fool like meKnowing how we beSeeing we

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-46413620356770648012012-01-02T05:06:00.000-08:002012-01-02T13:47:29.048-08:00

Happy New Year To You All! Hopefully, with the gift of a brand New Year that’s been handed to us, we won’t abuse it or ourselves by making bad choices or foolish decisions, or the worst sin of all: taking our time here for granted! The other day, I came across the following article, which, at first, amused me, then, disturbed me: “A 99-year-old Italian man is divorcing his 96-year-old wife after

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-19049651552017539992011-12-28T07:09:00.000-08:002011-12-28T12:11:16.965-08:00

As I reflect upon the personal revelations and the ravages of 2011I am glad I can say with some degree of satisfaction that:Everything's fine.Hired a small team of lawyers. Didn’t get my rightful justice, but at least I walked away with some peace of mind… and Everything’s fine.Completed a novel. It’s probably my best work to date, yet couldn’t find a decent literary agent to rep me, so, since

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-46679428188263317092011-12-24T08:59:00.000-08:002011-12-24T09:06:39.850-08:00

(Based upon a True Event)There was once a young man who lived in a Big Bad City of Rich, Mean and Inconsequential things. This young man had a dream of being different, perhaps to one day even do something epic. This idea of achieving was long ago instilled in him by his grandmother when he was a very young boy. In the summers of his youth, he and his baby brother would stay at her small

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-17593608179648277722011-12-19T06:11:00.000-08:002011-12-24T14:20:08.988-08:00

Bogie was Coooool & All... But... Please Don't Believe The Hype!The picture above was taken the last time I ever smoked. I wanted to memorialize The Moment. I wanted to pay homage to Bogart and McQueen (both who died from cancer, btw) and all those very cool cinematic peeps to blew smoke and fury and signified nothing, and yet further served to punctuate their brand of uber mystique.So… Here’s

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-66425518870034163852011-12-15T04:45:00.000-08:002011-12-15T04:49:09.055-08:00

Lately I’ve been trying to snatch, to retrieve and to retain this thing in me; this lost and sleeping Spirit of Christmas. Sometimes, it waxes, wanes and tickles my brain with a sweet memory from the past. Often it comes and goes, and lasts as long as a snowflake on a red-hot griddle. Last night and early this morning, it snowed. Actually... it was officially just a “dusting”. Kinda wimpy

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-57513715620394536692011-12-09T09:45:00.000-08:002011-12-09T13:44:24.776-08:00

Recently I received an early Christmas gift and it's one that I'll cherish for many years to come. My boy "Brotha Life" (thanks Lifey!) Blessed me when sent me this gem. It's a large coffee table book filled with black and white classic & candid images of the Jazz greats. The book is called JAZZ IMAGE, The Masters of Jazz Photography (by Lee Tanner). And trust me when I say, the photographers

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-45279489097755698292011-12-01T04:51:00.000-08:002011-12-01T06:32:57.247-08:00

When Friends Die Young (For James & Jr. & Kim & Cliff & Jet & Cunning & Rosemarie &Frankie & Richard & Deborah & Every Tear That Falls Down On The Neighborhood Now) A part of you neverUnderstands. Your tears fall, Hard, as violent rainstorms from The heavens. You swear at God! You curse the fates! You barterIn bitter degrees. And you ache. You never stop This aching. And you wonder why You’

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-83233082000866565482011-11-22T09:51:00.000-08:002011-11-22T14:15:46.008-08:00

I am Thankful to be free… finally free of the slavery enforced upon me by that old rabid dog called nicotine; free from the habit that constricted my life-force and made a mockery of... my health.I am Thankful for the trials and tribulations because they have made me live my life more intentionally... deepening my sense of purpose while granting me a roadmap to karmic destiny and spiritual

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-2483683915560809442011-11-09T06:25:00.000-08:002011-11-15T14:28:46.883-08:00

Do you ever howl sometimes in a loud, yet quiet note? Do strange fingers ever reach out and Stroke some sleeping Ache, lodged withinYour Soul? Does a tear ever make a clearly distinct noiseAs it crawls… before falling In a singular ping of A triangle's Jangle? If the written word were a strain of music, Arranged to echo the sound of yourEssence, what tune would it Assume? What

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-40644562545123114272011-10-22T13:48:00.000-07:002012-01-03T15:43:57.105-08:00

Yesterday, I became an eyewitness to love. Actually what I saw were little acts of love, and these are among the best and purest examples of love there can ever be. I mean the kind of love that becomes a soft and gentle verb. The actions shifting before my eyes were small, and yet beautiful, so mad beautiful almost to the point of making me want to weep. Lately, many things seem to touch me in

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-79980846378119824512011-09-30T13:52:00.000-07:002011-10-01T10:41:32.402-07:00

Lately I have been thinking about the reality of dying. Not that I’m actively embracing it, or wrapping it around me like a cape full of heavenly stars and constellations, so please, don’t get it twisted. No, my thoughts are more centered upon the intensity of the journey and then soul-searching my way through it. So many people I’ve known and loved and expected to be around for the long haul

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-24237489954540835872011-08-23T06:57:00.000-07:002011-08-23T07:08:33.698-07:00

When a poet dies, I get this sad and romantic notion that the pages they'd written upon have left their grasp and are flying on the wind. Yesterday, Nick Ashford passed at age 69. He had been undergoing radiation for throat cancer. Today I find myself reflecting, not only upon the over four-decades worth of wonderful and memorable music he made with his wife Valerie Simpson, but I’m

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-90521935257406099182011-07-08T11:54:00.000-07:002011-11-17T14:55:03.210-08:00

So the other day, after over a month of dealing, waiting, imagining the worst of all possible scenarios, I finally had the bandage removed from my surgery. Maybe a little history is needed here: The bandage itself was made of “steri-strips” taped over the wound where the doctor did the cutting. Over time, a collection of gook would form underneath this bandage, which I allowed the drizzle of

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-45602580026358771872011-06-25T08:22:00.000-07:002011-06-25T11:12:17.861-07:00

At the very start I need to preface this entry by stating that, I am NOT a singer. No, that description doesn’t quite fit me, at least not a singer in the true sense or meaning of the word. To me, Pavarotti was a singer. Luther Vandross, Donny Hathaway and Nat King Cole were singers. So, no, in the realest sense of the word or in its truest definition, nah, I’m NOT a singer.I have, however,

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-37049384826747591742011-05-30T10:00:00.000-07:002011-10-28T14:40:15.505-07:00

Hello my friends, readers, people, fam and and lurkers. This is more a notice than a blog entry. You see, I have been away because of my health. I have literally been at Death's Door for much of this year... (no jest) and for most for this year I was not even aware of it. Congestive Heart Failure Ain't No Joke! May 18th is now the day I think of myself as running away from home. I ran from

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-40359004807213563652011-04-26T09:22:00.002-07:002012-01-04T09:11:05.694-08:00

I hardly write anymore. So much of what moves me to write ultimately breaks my heart. I received sad news today. Sadder than even I'd care to admit. Phoebe Snow, the distinctively voiced singer-songwriter who penned the ’70s radio staple “Poetry Man” and toured with the likes of Jackson Browne, Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen, and Paul Simon (she appeared on his hit “Gone at Last”), has passed away

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-34706669359378852632011-03-30T15:31:00.000-07:002011-04-01T12:43:05.538-07:00

imprisoned, age seven it is frozen inside a sepia photograph. & i am forever its imprisoned child. the dark brown child grimacing inside, when the white photographer demanded "smile..." this is what "happy" looked like at seven. after my father brushed & greased my defiant, black hair into some semblance of a part. tied a noose around my neck... & fashioned from my squirming,

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-4107088471567131702011-03-23T07:31:00.000-07:002011-03-23T09:06:15.749-07:00

Screen Legend Elizabeth Taylor passed today, and I'm not feelin' too good myself. She was 79 years old, and she lived a life of great contrasts in happiness, fame, illness, sadness, triumph. Since early childhood she is remembered for her stunning dark beauty and violet eyes. Although physically blessed with otherworldly glamour, she also managed to seem very fragile and very much human. She

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-26764455692331272292011-03-01T09:25:00.000-08:002011-03-01T09:35:40.268-08:00

If you can smile like an imbecile, without a worry in your brain If you can start the day with no nicotine or little caffeine, If you can always be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains, If you can resist complaining and boring others with your troubles, If you can eat plain food every day and be grateful for it, If you can understand when your loved ones are too busy to give you any time, If

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-14286184254742213442011-02-08T15:10:00.000-08:002011-02-10T09:38:18.301-08:00

I wish I could report that I’m maxin’ privately in Tahiti, laying in a hammock, sipping on a tangy island potion, all smoke-free, all contented, all chi-released, all chill, and loving every minute of it! But that would be a damn lie; a vast and blatant UNTRUTH. The truth is I’m livin’ la vida LOCO, all looped and lost in that special loneliness of another non-smokers Blues. See, after

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-38323902023532213442011-01-18T04:38:00.000-08:002011-01-19T03:44:17.979-08:00

This is my Natal Day Song To Me. I am composing this entry on the eve of my Natal Day… the anniversary of my first breath, first obstacle, first scream, first cry, first bitch, first song, first moan, first piss, first enfant terrible protest... I pen this as another year reels and rolls and undulates before me like the hips of a dangerous strip-teaser. And I come unraveling too, baby… yes,

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-21987439214968878252011-01-15T05:21:00.000-08:002011-01-27T12:25:29.955-08:00

In his short 39 years on earth, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr witnessed the all- encompassing darkness of injustice, and yet, was continuingly imbued by the Light of Destiny. In his short 39 years on earth, he'd loved us so much as a people, that he would dedicate his entire life to fighting so valiantly on our behalf. In his short 39 years on earth, he’d chosen purpose over power, right over might

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-82347555269002958972011-01-13T05:21:00.000-08:002011-01-13T05:23:49.256-08:00

I've said it before, I'll say it again:I ain't right, yo!Hillary Clinton Falls Down Goes BOOM!Bwahahahahaha!One.

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-22126229885392088762011-01-03T13:04:00.000-08:002011-01-14T13:39:29.198-08:00

Almost three weeks ago, after 26 years and countless Newports inhaled in times of stress and boredom, exhaled, like some co-conspirator who rode shotgun with my pleasure, inhaled in those socially awkward moments, exhaled while shooting the tedious shit with friends and associates, inhaled in times of hunger and creative constipation, and exhaled as if the nicotine equivalent to an after-dinner

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-73474828356694819962010-12-31T10:03:00.000-08:002010-12-31T13:51:03.454-08:00

My New Year’s wish for you all is that PEACE becomes a presence in your homes, apartments, your castles and cribs, that it sets up a business where its main product (Peace Mentalities) becomes the latest trend… and it sweeps the nation and permeates your hearts.I wish that clever thieves perceive a way to Bogart all your cares and steal all your debts, but never once abuse or manhandle your

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-23904903420390376312010-12-27T03:40:00.000-08:002010-12-30T06:44:11.066-08:00

It’s very strange, and I really can't explain why, but for the past 24 hours the old skool song "Portuguese Love had been playing on a reel in my brain… and then very early this morning, I awakened to the terrible news that soul singer Teena Marie had passed. She was 54.The first expression other than disbelief becomes: OH NO! NOT LADY T!!!! Teena was a mad soulful, raw, emotional and deeply

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-53771236159202641392010-12-24T08:06:00.000-08:002010-12-24T08:11:37.254-08:00

I just want to wish all who will read this a Merry Christmas. I hope it’s a Holiday that is as happy as it is Blessed, as Peaceful as it is momentous, and as rich as it is humbling. If you can manage to help someone who might be less fortunate than yourself, then that’s all the better. If you can make a small child smile then you’ve made a new memory of the season. If you can feed someone

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-2301567889113489032010-12-14T09:17:00.000-08:002010-12-20T12:29:30.592-08:00

Lately I’ve been trying to snatch, to retrieve and to retain this thing in me; this lost and sleeping spirit of Christmas. Sometimes, it waxes, wanes and tickles my brain with a sweet memory from the past. Often it comes and goes, and lasts as long as a snowflake on a red-hot griddle. Last night and early this morning, it snowed. Actually... it was officially just a “dusting”. Kinda wimpy

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-10176586090904713762010-12-07T11:59:00.000-08:002010-12-07T14:55:10.663-08:00

This is my confession:I've made loveFar more timesThan I've ever hadSex. My Imagination is A whore… yes… but my bodyHas been A temple Composed of Apprehension and Tolerance, Poetry and A reed-thin Hope for romance. The penisIs a jerk With piss-Poor judgment.It works, Rises, performs as We breathe. It can pretend to beA magic wand... It can abracadabra us away fromLoneliness... But only the fluid

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-85377101462854162412010-12-01T04:20:00.000-08:002010-12-01T09:58:28.532-08:00

“There are crazy rhythms in this room. They click and churn and hiss and beep. They tick away the time between breaths. Such crazy rhythms inside this room, and I just can’t even dance to them. I wish I could speak… but the words, they won’t come. So these rhythms, they break the silence, fill in the vacancies, make up for this scarcity of language; and it’s strange how these rhythms can hush

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-66011893197365365912010-11-29T07:23:00.001-08:002010-12-20T12:28:38.152-08:00

During this time of the year, we, at least those of us with an interior life, tend to become very reflective of the things that life continues to show us. Personally, I've meditating upon the changes, the challenges and the Blessings that have been visited upon me and those I hold dear. This short entry is to acknowledge the 10 Things I’m Most Thankful For: I am thankful for my health, and my

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-11292147476699966732010-11-22T10:12:00.000-08:002010-11-22T10:44:35.385-08:00

I have breathed you in… Inhaled you inDrifts and draftsAnd mad dizzying spins. And I have Sucked youDeeply into my lungsLike some nicotine dreamOr herbal retreat…An opiate from A madnessThat dare not speakIts name. I have breathed you inInhaled you so deeplyYou became My wind… becameThe songThat plays in my brain And repeatsAnd repeatsIts soft,Sly refrain. I have breathed you inLike a fine

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-36835809133326948042010-11-14T06:17:00.000-08:002010-11-15T12:04:36.811-08:00

Last night, I went back to my roots, my origin, my native, the place where my words first caught that fire of attention and the promise of ambition. Last night, I returned to my primal mission: POETRY.Readings are something I once did frequently, before little magazines, publication and noveldom intervened and became a part of my immediate scene. Readings can be extremely cool when you get into

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-91531719396229437892010-11-08T11:08:00.000-08:002010-11-09T12:39:01.915-08:00

After viewing the film For Colored Girls, I was moved. The film, for the most part, is very good. It contains many of the things a great film should aspire to be: compelling, poetic, moving, didactic, stunning, beautiful... and sadly, ugly too. Ntozake Shange created a gem of living, breathing theatrical art. Director/screenwriter Tyler Perry attempted to follow suit by creating a moving piece

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-84014794056683424072010-11-06T14:05:00.000-07:002010-11-09T03:34:16.533-08:00

The other night, as personal favor for a friend, I did a bartending gig for this private party. I was told ahead of time that the tips would be cool, but the atmosphere might, ummm... "get kinda rowdy."I wondered WHY he felt it was necessary to warn me. I mean, what exactly was I about to roll up on? “Well,” he said. “This is a bachelorette party.” Oh. Say no mo.Having done of this kind of

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-9727582785184472552010-11-01T12:24:00.000-07:002010-11-01T16:44:29.961-07:00

As yet another Election Day is upon us, I can’t help but wonder: how many people will be heading or marching to the polls with a clear(headed) agenda? How many will be voting with their HEARTS and not with their fears? And for all the millions that do vote, just what issues will they be basing their vote upon? Considering the history of Black people and People of Color in this Country, for

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-33877832340882720812010-10-26T14:05:00.000-07:002010-10-30T08:57:45.391-07:00

It happened yesterday. I didn’t start out being or feeling any differently, but then… LIFE happened. While walking from Grand Central Station about 11 blocks into midtown, I felt this severe CRAMP in my left calf. It seized upon the muscle with such an intense vise-GRIP that I literally HAD to STOP, and stop immediately! I've always hated it when getting

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-17171982596053275072010-10-18T07:00:00.001-07:002012-02-05T15:29:47.595-08:00

Should Cannabis Be Legalized? Leave it to Cali…“Despite leading in three of four public opinion surveys, the fate of Proposition 19 on the November ballot remains up in the air. The initiative, billed by its advocates as a "common sense" approach to marijuana control, appeared to be sailing to victory in late September when the venerable Field Poll found it leading by 7 percentage points among

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-7212424880199102072010-10-11T10:02:00.000-07:002010-10-12T07:45:27.197-07:00

Over the weekend, I drank and I drank, and I drank some more. Vodka martinis were my grog of choice. Don’t get it twisted! It wasn’t a binge or one of those traumatic, deep-seated alcoholic bender things. It wasn’t a scene from The Lost Weekend starring me, as the negro Ray Milland. I was just imbibing the steady grog and pondering the gods of my own inner ponderation. I don’t drink

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-67634044984725357372010-10-04T09:56:00.000-07:002010-10-05T07:56:42.426-07:00

Okay, so check it: After a prolonged disappearing act, a (formerly) close friend of mine recently resurfaced, right? Only, this person who appeared before me was the new and improved dude. You see, it was that whole other person version, because apparently they've now had a religious conversion. In fact, I received the Miraculous news that they have recently been “Saved." Amen. Wow! Will

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-54760412967248849842010-09-28T09:35:00.000-07:002010-09-28T14:24:25.926-07:00

The Myth of ManhoodWe offset masculinity With bravado and obscenity Afraid to embrace sensitivity, We disconnect from our poetry. We boil in soups of complexity And stew in our futile brutality Too fearful to reveal our humanity, We ignore our peace mentality.We inflict our core fragilitiesUpon weaker ones, for clarity That we are MEN... a phallically- Challenged curiosity, with no idea ofHow to

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-26070036454981249962010-09-21T14:48:00.000-07:002010-09-23T14:13:59.252-07:00

Good news is something I never take for granted, and today I’ve some good news to share. It appears that the very captivating Anna Renee aka “Sista Westsiiiiide” (as I like to call her) has deemed to bless me and this blog in a large, remarkable, and mad lovely way. She has tagged me in a meme she’s participating in, which originated at the Electronic Village Blog. In doing so, she writes:

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-49200529805890193872010-09-16T10:32:00.000-07:002012-01-19T16:02:09.807-08:00

So, this is my sick and tired of the bullshit rant. It's past due time for it. No. This ain't about me snatching JOY because JOY has been playing Hide 'n Seek with my ass! I don’t know what the problem is. Well, maybe I do. Lately I’ve been in a deeply dour mood. Been feeling mad stressed, and maybe just a tad distressed. Been feeling overworked, and underpaid… overtaxed and laxly laid. I

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-33305293610542446032010-08-17T08:57:00.000-07:002010-08-23T03:22:58.697-07:00

Here is something you can’t understand ... How I Could just KILL a Fam:This music is BANGING! I mean BANGIN’ and shaking the freakin' walls, yo! And as I write this, it is 2:34AM! I came home from work at 1:30. The music was THUMPIN then. I’m beyond bone-tired. At this point, it's more like tired as a broke-down Mississippi field slave, under an oppressive August heatwave. As of this

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-11080742758509376792010-08-11T05:38:00.000-07:002010-08-17T06:30:22.806-07:00

Dear Universe,How You doin'? You aiight? I hope so. It's Your boi, Lin. You know that cat with all these dreams in his head and longing desires deep in the recesses of his heart and spirit that he *never* tells to anyone? Yeah, that Lin. Well lately, I've been thinking-- pondering really-- that if we are truly to be on good terms, then perhaps I should speak to You more... tell You

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-26388933775760958562010-08-04T10:17:00.000-07:002010-09-28T15:23:33.970-07:00

Recently, I experienced a great and profound disappointment in my life. Boo-hoo. Woe is me. Being a human being, I’m not exactly a newbie in the field of disappointment. This particular one, it hurt me so much, I felt it down deep in my soul. When your soul hurts, it’s serious business.Without going into great detail, I will say, I’d lost my trust in man, and in all humankind. I'd forgotten to

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-30483254341099863432010-07-28T08:38:00.000-07:002010-07-28T14:46:31.674-07:00

My iPod & I cruised in a slow throb around the brown side of town, Where Lolitas in tube-tops & booty-shorts set flames inside A papi's cartoon eyes. Outside the local bodega, old men of espanol descent, style Straw chapeaus & engage in dominoes while low-riders blastHigh decibel Salsa as flashing ojos watch me on The Sly. I’m just a vacancy inside my own hotel of thought, too distracted To care

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-66532469456428050712010-07-21T08:57:00.000-07:002010-07-21T11:33:14.208-07:00

Some misshapen thing w/a mean tattoo Some chic, urban island of random cool Some street corner cat steady screaming: “REVOLUTION!” Some mythic steely smile, w/ its front teeth missing... Some blues-chick blonde diggin’ on black sounds... Some den of poor poets all tryna be profound... Some Jeep's street banger w/ a hip-hop fury. Some downbeat varicose bluecity alley. Some screaming people howling

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-81056797774995819112010-07-16T05:08:00.001-07:002010-07-20T05:53:57.404-07:00

One of my very first and most lasting cinematic crushes has sadly made her transition. Actress Vonetta McGee, who appeared in such films as "Melinda," “Blacula,” “Hammer”,“Shaft in Africa,” and the Clint Eastwood thriller "The Eiger Sanction" died last Friday, on July 9th, in Berkeley, Calif. She was 65 years old. She was blessed with a remarkable presence, and it's hard to say what it was

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-76075449848161975962010-07-07T11:19:00.000-07:002010-08-18T08:47:20.829-07:00

The following was written, after someone asked me the pointed question: "So, who are you, really?" Between Fractured Verse and Poetry I co-exist with bitsAnd pieces of me, I am the stuff of Fractured verse And poetry. Open door and barbed-wired fence, Comic relief, And dramedy. Half-Asian eyes and Negroid lips Half-conscious Hip-Hop, Part Jazz purist. I Breathe in rhythms And gasp through

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-66711976142783037002010-06-25T04:58:00.000-07:002010-06-25T05:25:19.252-07:00

Michael Joe Jackson 1958-2009 "If You Wanna Make The World A Better Place... Take A Look At Yourself And Make A Change!"One Love.

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-24933860799622916952010-06-20T06:35:00.000-07:002010-06-22T07:15:19.748-07:00

He knew how to wear a hat. Trust... that’s not always an easy trick, when you’re a Black man, trying *not* to look like a pimp, a mack, a dandy, a fop or a player. My father possessed that infinitely smooth gift of slipping on a chapeau and becoming this cool and mysterious character. Though barely 5’8, he always stood larger in his fedora. It seemed as if his posture changed and he became this

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-11699730868536333172010-06-15T08:56:00.000-07:002010-06-15T15:21:19.607-07:00

An addendum to the previous entry: the cat I caught stealing from the till last week was officially given his walking papers on Friday night... when someone else caught him dipping and ATTEMPTING to get away with the same activity.Karma is indeed a bitch.Another interesting factoid, which I only discovered upon his firing: the lying, theif/bartender/cat just happened to be the nephew (

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-32173776169362800812010-06-09T06:45:00.000-07:002010-06-22T11:17:42.118-07:00

Maybe it’s a Blessing, but I think it’s a curse, that some people can exist just fine, living in a chronic state of what I call: integritas-rigor mortis. They LIE! They possess not an ounce of personal integrity. They can emote an untruth as easily as most people breathe. Better yet, they can live, quite well, with their dishonesty without any signs of guilt or remorse. I'm sure you probably

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-87896083367748989122010-06-03T06:03:00.001-07:002010-06-23T10:45:37.477-07:00

Steady.... lady! Easy, Gaga! I try, I mean, I seriously TRY to be a good person. But sometimes, I just plain suck at it. There are certain quirks in me that I wish didn’t exist. For example, perversity. Sure, we all possess a bit of it. It’s obviously not something to be proud of, and certainly not our best trait. But it exists, and it can, will and does manifest in different ways. Me? I’ve a

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-58216674481186090732010-05-25T09:43:00.000-07:002010-06-16T06:51:31.327-07:00

SO...it’s another typically tedious Tuesday. Not a GREAT Day, and not a particular day of note. And so you sigh, you rise, you shower, eat, prepare to meet the blinding onslaught of daylight and the issues attached to living your life.At work, you turn on your computer... log in to your homepage, check your email and your eyes begin to blink in messages from hungry strangers asking you to

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-5462115334132785992010-05-19T11:30:00.000-07:002010-05-19T15:26:57.445-07:00

“Too Shy To Say" You make me smile You make me sing You make me feel good everything You bring me up When I've been down This only happens when you're around And I can't go on this way... With it stronger every day... But being too shy to say That I really love you... I wanna fly Away with you Until there's nothing more for us to do I wanna be More than a friend Until the end of an endless end

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-2696969956290174712010-05-17T12:55:00.000-07:002010-05-18T06:58:39.325-07:00

I feel the need to speak, to wax, to pontificate on the subject of Love. Love! Ah, yes... Love! I mean, The Realness. The Real ish… The Authentic Stuff... not that weird, obsessive shit. And not that: please-baby-baby-please love-me-long-time, desperate variety. I mean that many splendored thing! I‘m talkin' ‘bout Love as described in the classic jazz tune, “Moody’s Mood For Love”.It goes a lil

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-78282562104605217952010-05-12T04:10:00.000-07:002010-05-21T08:48:44.063-07:00

Once, I thought that Manhood was like a musky cologne… or a dangerous R & B song that came on strong, like Otis Redding did. In my young and ignorant thoughts, Manhood could flip the script and be like a switchblade, flicking long and sharp and deadly from the pocket. I once thought it MANifested in a jock-strap, a fly new Cadillac, in a designer suit; that it possessed a mad smoooove rap, and a

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-5605560780175635382010-05-10T05:22:00.000-07:002010-05-16T07:06:49.700-07:00

Yesterday, on Mother’s Day, the world lost a genuine legend. Lena Horne, who possessed a uniquely silk and bourbon voice, accented by her rich copper-skinned goddess-like beauty has passed. Perhaps, best known for her rendition of the 1940s torch song “Stormy Weather,” Miss Lena, 92, died in her native, NYC, at New York Presbyterian Weill Cornell Medical Center.She was born Lena Mary Calhoun

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-47262220696412611242010-05-05T05:39:00.001-07:002010-05-12T15:17:16.813-07:00

Inside that concrete canyon of Deep and steelyRegrets Where the mean streets suckedYou in, like Aimless junkies inhalingCrystal meth…And the garish avenuesSpat you outLike the night’sHaughty sophisticates Exhaling smokeFrom French Cigarettes… I search forSigns of yourCool-ass Ghost.Where the hustlers are Still brawling The busters are ballingAnd queens lean into Neon-coated Tete a tetes… and

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-25473453096059899432010-05-03T15:53:00.000-07:002010-05-04T10:21:52.123-07:00

Tell me this has NEVER happened to you, and I'll have to call you a lie-yah... Picture it: It’s a rainy night in your ville. You’re home alone, and maybe just a little lonely. You’re reclining in your favorite chair, or perhaps on the sofa or futon, contemplating your navel or somesuch ish. The phone rings. You answer it. Instantly, you recognize the voice. It sounds a bit like you… a little

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-53115537709807227202010-04-28T16:16:00.000-07:002010-04-30T15:20:57.714-07:00

Psssst... See that black and white emblem to the left? It's pretty fly, isn't it? Miz Write, a most lovely Sista of The Pen who scribes a mean blog here, recently presented this page with the most prestigeous "Beautiful Blogger Award!" (Applaud me! I'll wait. Applaud me, dammit!) Seriously though, coming from a writer/blogger/spirit that I personally admire, this honor leaves me feeling

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-48778651394730166572010-04-23T06:19:00.001-07:002011-12-24T12:38:55.955-08:00

The following piece is an essay of sorts, created by this writer, with several quotes attributed to their original authors. It is not my intent to take, steal or profit from the hearts, intellects, and spirits of others.I hope you will read it, especially if you are a starving, budding, or even a successful creative artist.~ L.M. Ross"I am for integrity, if only because life is very short and

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-10682365686709794922010-04-07T16:35:00.000-07:002010-04-09T16:18:24.592-07:00

Miss Billie Holiday aka Eleanora Fagan would be 95 years old today.Wow! Billie, "Lady Day" who Changed the tone and swayOf Jazz and made it herOwn. Billie, whoColored it Blue, And sadder than the hang ofStrange Fruit as She sang it soul-Deep and authentic, too.I wonder if she were still Here, still breathing air, freshGardenia in her hair... Would she still beSinging dem oldWeary blues?Would

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-33486970197435854822010-03-20T15:22:00.000-07:002010-03-26T17:38:57.244-07:00

Last weekend a wicked Nor'easter wrecked mad havoc in many parts of the north east, and my ville did not escape the madness. While there was severe flooding in some areas, and week-long power outages in others, I lost electricity for a while. The strange thing is that more than missing TV, or my computer; more than the loss of lights and use of the fridge, what I missed most was the inability to

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-15181770630640253252010-02-23T11:23:00.000-08:002010-02-23T14:59:27.470-08:00

winter is outsidemy window again. it isthe broken spine ofa beggar tryingto walklikeDuke Ellington.it is thatKinda Blue frigid sista whoflooded by neonsolicits a manwho'll make herSCREAMlike Miles Davis'horn.winter is outsidemy window again. it isthe bag-Lady Daycarrying windin her veins andStrange Fruit in hershopping cart.it is that soup line be-bop jazzed sortahop to keep the coldfrom

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-53365755476683459042010-02-12T12:42:00.000-08:002010-02-14T08:36:09.421-08:00

I fall so humbled before youI am your vessel, your angel, and your fool.You've made me moan and beg, and plead...Made me your slave, your trade, your king!Whispered your lyrics, and Made me your poetYou've made me stand tall, And strong, and stoic.You filled my lungs with new oxygen...Infused new dances inside my limbs And then...You've left me.Took away your musicRendered me, deficientPitiful,

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-63238323463281201412009-12-24T07:49:00.000-08:002010-04-09T15:02:16.628-07:00

As I reflect upon this closing year, I can honestly say that, for me, it has been one of great personal loss, and profound disappointment; a year of struggle, and deep regret. If it were possible, I would like to forget the majority of the events that occurred in my life within the span of 2009. However, a closer, more internal look reveals that it has also been a year of an even deeper

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-69105894041627211732009-10-23T12:57:00.000-07:002009-10-23T13:07:10.157-07:00

My People... Hold On!These are indeed trying times for so many people, and I have become one of those Trying Times People. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I’m not alone. Almost everyone I know has been going through something lately: A very close friend of mine is fighting serious health issues and mounting medical bills. Please… pray for him. Several friends have lost the security of

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-63160859654337629172009-09-11T07:42:00.000-07:002009-09-11T07:55:43.489-07:00

On Septemeber 11, 2001, in the course of two short hours, the world would change forever.The freedom, security, the simple peace of mind most of us took for granted ended on that day when four planes were apprehended by terrorists and set a course that would change history. I knew three people who perished at the Twin Towers, and so the feeling of loss is beyond just personal. The sad reality is

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-69413302360382990262009-08-29T10:22:00.000-07:002009-08-29T10:30:43.384-07:00

Because this day, the 29th of August, would have been his 51st Natal Day, I thought I'd share the following:"We Had Him ... A Poem for Michael Jackson by Maya AngelouBeloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-85341467917930686882009-08-05T09:16:00.000-07:002009-08-05T12:26:31.045-07:00

Yesterday, I ran into an old friend who has, over the years, fallen on hard times. Much of this was due to Life and its disappointments, personal weakness and the failure to overcome the adversities we all face. It saddened me how he could have been me, or I could have been him. It saddens me still because between us there are very few differences. After speaking with him last night, I was

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-64261759382547914132009-07-24T10:15:00.000-07:002009-07-25T14:43:34.820-07:00

It is with the saddest heart that I learned today E. Lynn Harris, the best-selling Arkansas author known for contemporary stories about African-Americans, suffered a serious health setback and passed away during a West Coast book tour. He was 54.Word of this tragic event began making the rounds on Twitter earlier in the morning.When information is found online, especially the passing of

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-34865503052694635822009-06-26T05:48:00.000-07:002009-07-05T16:01:58.708-07:00

Dateline June 25, 2009...8:30PMCNN is on the boob tube. I'm feeling a little transfixed by just the phrase at the bottom of the screen "Michael Jackson Dies." Late in the afternoon, I didn't and wouldn't believe the hype. There was a breaking news report that he was rushed to a hospital. Even that wasn't shocking. But 'cardiac arrest' was just cause to pay more attention... and to worry. When

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-37299179576301656372009-06-21T05:30:00.000-07:002009-06-21T05:35:56.140-07:00

Within this paneled den of My mind, You are Coolly recliningIn your favorite Laz E-Boy, gazing upFrom The Daily News. Your eyes fixed in This no-nonsense stare. You want to discuss The day’s politics… but there’s alwaysSome new song rattling in my brain, playingUpon the jukebox of my tongue. Sly, Stevie, Marvin and Donny, they haunt My boyish conversation. Didn’t mean to exasperate you, yet I

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-83462432091659122172009-06-10T12:02:00.000-07:002009-06-10T15:29:09.054-07:00

"You can measure a man by the opposition it takes to discourage him."I don't know much about Robert C. Savage, but I do love that above quote of his on the subject of Courage:Ah, Courage! The dictionary defines it as: “the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear; bravery.”For the past few months I have been facing such fierce

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-4397642460914970692009-04-30T10:59:00.000-07:002012-01-30T05:49:15.546-08:00

Lately, there's been so much going on, going wrong, demanding me to suck it up and just be strong inside my orbit that it would be so easy to fling these great chunks of rage and hurl these bruise-colored blues soundly into the faces of people who are clearly unworthy of receiving them. *Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeathe! Just Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeathe, Lin!*The truth is: I don’t wanna become

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-87014419017271298602009-04-18T09:43:00.000-07:002009-04-18T13:16:16.395-07:00

For all of its luster, confusion, its pain and terrible beauty, LIFE is and will always be a continuing course in adult education. Each day, we become either new students or learned professors. Each day we endure some grand test of our emotions and our spirits where, in the end, we receive either a passing or a failing grade. Today, after a recent 14 day fast, I can truthfully state that my

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-72360687104831137222009-03-27T10:49:00.000-07:002009-03-27T11:38:06.528-07:00

"I Love, I Love To Do My ThingHa, and I, I Don’t Need No One Else.Sometimes I Feels So Nice, Good God...I Jump Back, I Wanna Kiss My Self!” – James Brown from “Superbad”For the past week my personal grief has been a self-conscious little dance of avoidance. Step One: Turn away. Step Two: Lean back from people who don’t give a shit, and even those who PRETEND to give a shit.Step Three: Cover

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-64616875279471367942009-03-11T10:35:00.000-07:002009-03-12T14:33:22.340-07:00

So, check it: I was tagged by fellow Brotha blogger Keith to form a list of the 25 Most Influential writers in my personal estimation, right? At first, I thought this would be a cakewalk, because truthfully, I’m a knowledge junkie. I get a little high on literary grog. I become a tad agog when I see, hear or read greatness. I hold in the Highest Regard those people who create a world and who

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-50478656857907560192009-03-08T10:14:00.000-07:002009-03-08T15:25:19.052-07:00

There are times when reading a book, you happen upon an unexpected lesson, and a shining gift wrapped up in darkness. Its wisdom comes from the voice of its writer. It makes you think, discover, nod your head and relate as you read along. I just completed such a novel. It reached my inner voice, gave me a lesson in humanity, in faith, and in mankind. The book is called “Owen Fiddler.” It’s

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-61957280386500364082009-02-25T12:49:00.000-08:002009-02-25T12:58:42.049-08:00

Dear Editor, Most Specifically, Rubbery Rupert Murdock:Congratulations, on this, your latest salvo into the world of racist journalism! As a Black Man, I deeply appreciate this newest honor you’ve shown my brethren and me, especially with this being Black History Month and all! Thank you. It still seems that in SOME eyes, we are and will forever be doomed to the tunnel-vision scope of your

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-37734008313614684882009-02-14T06:07:00.000-08:002009-03-11T05:07:43.997-07:00

After the roses,And chocolate candyAfter candlelit dinner And late night brandies…Your lips Caress the kiss Of my lips. We shareA wet language: Of duelingTonguesAnd rattling breaths.Your hand Treks slowly Down this Path that leads toThe contourAt the small of My back.My fingers become theseRapid heat-seekers,Reading the hotBraille of Your skin. And you areA pulse beat… and A knowing smile. A

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-41748056246581372262009-01-31T14:27:00.000-08:002009-02-02T09:52:39.554-08:00

“The devil ain’t nothin’ but a talent scout!” Those were the words of my Great Aunt Bessie. When I was a kid, she’d utter these strange, crazy expressions that made absolutely no sense to me. But then, the older I became, the wisdom, the knowing inside those things she’d said would end up haunting me slowly. Maybe the devil was, is, and will always be a devious talent scout,

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6190292992150344693.post-29756940861748282382009-01-21T07:12:00.000-08:002009-01-24T06:56:20.852-08:00

Peep the emblem to the left. The lovely, most kind and mad industrious Miz Write has bestowed this award upon me. It's called The Helping Hand Award. I am very humbled, grateful, surprised and yes, elated to be in receipt of it. Whenever I’m told that something I’ve written or done has ‘inspired’ someone, it brings a smile and a certain peace to my spirit. I think maybe that’s a part of what

Moanerplicityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02750801733829859144noreply@blogger.com17