*Curse Of The Terminally Sighing People

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 of THEM… one of those people… one of those woe-is-me people who constantly sigh. Those Chronically Sighing People, I call them… You know them: those people who speak in fluently blue tones, who brood and cry in terminally sighing moans. Those people who sing only sad and melancholy songs… those people who exist in sobbing fits of solitude whose only trick, kick or tic is a permanent facial grimace.




I don’t wanna become one of them. God, please don’t allow me to become one of those crying, hand-fixed-to-the-forehead, overly dramatic, habitually Sighing People!


I don’t wanna be one of those people who bitch and groan and feel alone, even in crowded rooms; nor a friendless soul who’ll only move to those slow sad drums of their own. I know some people don’t trust in different drummers for fear those drummers will fuck with the funk of their beat. But in the end, those feelings are so damned self-defeating.




So... I don’t wanna become one of them.


I don’t wanna be one of people who drown in a pain… so deep… even strains of Coltrane (or Manilow) can’t release them from their Indigo Trains of Thought. I don’t need the tremulous coo of some woozy crooner to renew, redo, re-blue my Blues, when they’ve already been blown Blue enough.


I just don’t wanna become one of them.


I don’t wanna be breast-fed by Nina Simone, mislead by Lady Day or led astray by Sade. I don’t wanna believe Joni Mitchell ever lied… even if that “Furry” cat died and really did 'play The Blues…' And though I love the Jazz and Blues idoms, I don’t want my Life to be a indigo-colored song that slides terminally from the reed of a dejected and sad-azz saxophone.





See, I don’t wanna be nor ever become one of Those People… those people who only speak and whine and brood and cry interminably. Don’t wanna be a member of that mind-numbing Cult of Terminally Sighing People…

So maybe today, maybe tonight, maybe if I try… I won’t be.




Instead, from the Beastly Jaws of Human Suffering, I'ma be the one who snatches the living HELL outta JOY!





One.

*repost

Reflections On The Life and Sound of Etta James

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 Grace; her calling card and her clarion call... But OH GOD! How she could release them from the trapdoor of her throat into the woozy skag and liquor filled night, sending them on a starry flight into our ears and our hearts!

Her life was hard, and so were some of her choices.

Her vocals were a cross, a mash-up between baptist church testimony and the sound of a broken heart; the stank of Saturday night's pool hall sin, and Sunday's wounded, skidmarked angel.

Such a soul-sangin' dame! She was the original Etta James. Yes. She was uniquely, bitter-sweetly Etta, damn it! And she will be missed.


Thank God for the music! That voice and those recordings will forever exist.




RIP, Jamesetta!

One.

My Birthday Wish For YOU: Live LIFE!

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 your knees...I mean broke you all the way down?


While I know myself as a creation of God, I am also obligated to realize and remember that everyone else and everything else are also God's creation.
~Maya Angelou

Each one has to find his peace from within. And peace to be real must be unaffected by outside circumstances.
~Mohandas Gandhi


Anxiety, frustration, and worry can crowd, congest the mind and affect our every action. We may find ourselves pacing the floor, biting our nails, turning the bottle up, snorting, smoking, banging; you know, whatever your personal pacifier, trip or hang up may be! Only The Creator knows what we had to come thru just to be here now... Some have come thru addictions and substance abuse; some have come thru divorce, some have come thru child abuse and rape; some have come thru mistakes, trouble, and woe; some have come thru secrets that you've never told anyone about and scars, which have left you with the inability to communicate with anyone.

Last year, last month, just yesterday we could have breathed our last breath... but you and I are still here, and for that, we can give God praise!!!

So after the dawning of my drama, my crisis, my milepost, I've decided to use it, not as some woe-is-me downer, but as a lesson, a call to action, and a sign from my Creator as bright as a burning bush to LIVE my life to the fullest!

I just want to encourage you who may be reading this, YOU, yes you, to do the same! LIVE YOUR to the fullest!!! No matter what comes up before you, keep on living it, whether you fail or fly... keep grinding your individual grind until you die! You may have to stumble, fall, bust your ass, every now and then, but keep on living! Trust me, those other crabs in your bucket, your competitors, enemies and haters will HATE that resilence in you.

Life is a dance, and yes, sometimes, you may have to sit this particular dance out, but the music will keep on playing and jamming on the one.




So, like a drowning man snatches for a lifeguard, or a starving hip-hop artist (or writer) might snatch at a contract, and the obese might snatch at sweets, damn it... Snatch JOY!

That's it. That's all.


Always Be Encouraged and Be Blessed!!!




And yes, in the Spirit of Survival and Self-Celebration: Happy Natal Day To Me!







One Love.



Lin

*In Honor of Dr. King: The Marcher's Poem

I marched
Because
My Freedom was
A bastardized entity.

I marched because...
A contemptuous America
Made a slaughter of
My dignity.

We marched because
Our flesh
Had become
The food of rabid beasts.

I marched because
Men, with my skin
Hung from nooses…
Strung on poplar trees.





We marched because
Injustice had become
The common rule…
We marched because
The Constitution
Had run out of
Excuses.

I marched
Because the klan carried
Crooked crosses.
I marched
Because this country stood by
As we counted
Our losses.

I marched
Because my weary soul
Ached for the balm of
Righteous. I marched because
The swift boot of
Cruelty kept
Trampling upon
My spirit.

I marched because
A King Whispered softly…
And my distressed
Humanity could
Hear it.





I marched because
My skin, my pride,
My worthiness was
Shunned. And I marched because
A Change
Sure enough
Had to come!



I marched because
A man named
Martin realigned my spine…
I marched because
Dr. King re-ignited
My flame…
I marched
For me and
My ancestors,
In Freedom's name.






We marched
And our bodies sustained
The cruel jets
Of fire hoses.
We marched
Against uniformed
Racist minds in blue
Swinging fists and billy clubs
Their pitched and
Furious voices
Screaming: "Niggers! Get back!"

And still we marched
In the face of
Church bombings
Kidnappings,
And vicious attacks.

And so,
We marched, our army
Growing stronger, because
Leading us was “Drum
Major for Peace!”



We marched because
The dictates of
Righteousness
Told us to reclaim
Our dignity...




And so… we marched
Until there were holes
In our soles and blood
In our shoes
But a Prize lay
Inside my eyes...
Because of YOU!


And today, we honor
This quietly fiery
Magnificence of You!
And today, Dr. King,
We All Stand
Taller
Because of You.
And today we
Celebrate Your Unwavering
Essence
And today with Universal
Pride and Undying
Respect… We say:

THANK YOU!





One Love.






*repost

I'd Like To Thank The Academy (& Anna Renee!)...

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 Image Awards, Grammys and more.

But... we humble blogging people will NOT be ignored!

So, the other day, I wasn’t feeling all that great, good, groovy or gratified in my Lin-ness, when suddenly I was pleasantly surprised and honored by my fellow blogger, my friend and sister from the Westside, Anna Renee. Do you know of her? Anna pens one of those thematic type blogs that compels you to react. Whether it’s a trip down memory lane through music, film or entertainment personality; whether it’s beauty-centered, cultural, or one of her religious faith-based articles, there’s always something to either challenge or instruct you or simply make you smile. That’s just the way Anna Renee rolls. Go on. See for yourself:
AnnaRenee
So when Anna chose my blog, this joint right here for the Liebster Blog Award, at first I was like… WHO? Whhaaaa? Que? Lucy got some ‘splainin’to do!

And explain Anna did.



Apparently the German suffix Lieb means “Beloved or Favorite”… When people find favor in what you do, and it speaks to them, that’s a very rewarding compliment. So thank you, “Anna May!” Thankyavurrrmuch!

And so now, I’m about to pay it forward. As the rules of this award stipulate, I will list my top five favorite blogs with under 200 followers. For those winners who participate: copy and paste this award on your blog, choose five bloggers you love, link back to them, and go tell them you chose them!

The following blogs are my personal nomination for the prestigious Liebster Blog Award:

Methinks Lovebabz was one of the first people here to discover my page. A divorcee and mother, I have read her for over four years now, and I am constantly discovering new and amazing things about her as she moves through her journey. In some ways, she’s like Oprah, in that she isn’t afraid to reveal her missteps, her mistakes, her flaws, and uses those experiences as teachable moments for the better good of all those who follow her. Ahhh,Lovebabz. She’s just wise like dat! You can check her Lovebabz-ness at:

Lovebabz


QH is quite the comprehensive writer who can pen most anything, and his choice of subject is usually music. He’s young cat with a very aged and classy soul. Whether you’re a brand nubian or an old head, he will school you on who is who, who used to be, and what we can expect in the future of music. I’m always learning something new when I roll thru his spot. Q is cool like dat! Peep his stee-lo at :

Q



Anyone who knows me, knows that my sensibilities are deeply rooted in the art of poetry. Rachel is a poet, a published author and her voice is a vivid and necessary one. Reading her words (at “The Waxing Moon”) will take you out of yourself and into the luminous world she creates… and to me, that is the mark of a Real Artist. Roll thru Rachel’s page and prepare to be amazed:

Rachel



Ms. Tia of When My Thoughts Aren’t On Chicago. Besides heaping helpings of very good gospel selections, Tia serves up pieces of life, from the perspective of a 32 year old mother of three. It’s often rooted in realness and we sorely need that kind of thing in the blogosphere. You can find her spot here:


Tia

This is the world according to Wynn, a songwriter out of Nashville, and all round good cat. Wynn is a friend that I actually met recently, and it was nice to see he is as down, and down to earth as his writing. He sometimes speaks of life’s trying times with the testimony of one who has been through them, and yet is not the type to go around with a dramatic his hand permanently attached to his brow. Check his page at:

Wynn


oTAY! That’s it. That’s all. Peep ‘em out, yáll!

Thanks again, Anna May! ;-)


One.

Exclusive! Red-hot Off The Presses! Jay-Z & Beyonce's First Baby Pics!

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! You KNOW you were already thinking it!




One.

To Love A Black Poet

Could you love
A cat like me?
Black like me?
Knowing how we be?

Could you love
A word-pimp
Speaking the woozy-
Hemp-inspired-speak
In this bitter-
Sweet jazzed
Release of
Poems?

Could you love
A cat like me?
Black like me?
The unsung singer?
A noise and sho-nuff
Joy-bringer who
Croons and spoons you in
The passionate
Gush and Breath
Of rhythmic
Songs...

Could ya love
A cool fool like me
Knowing how we be
Seeing we dress,
In homeless chic
Knowing how we
Manifest and how
We speak
Like we live: Bold
Uncensored and
In riddles, ya dig?


Yo! Could ya love
A cat like me, knowing
How we see best when
We squint at
The world
With eyes wide open…
Knowing that we interpret
The yang and
Inhabit the yin
Knowing how we
Deduce and decode
The warm and
Swirling tides
Written inside
Each other’s
Irises? See...



We kiss
With mouths aflutter
In the softest butter-
Fly language.
Our lips throw thick
Caramel juices, often
Releasing sweet
Love notes and
Sonnets that grunt
In wild
Erotic
Passages...

And our tongues be
Untied
Unbridled
Unafraid
To explore
The maze
Of our
Vulnerable
Versatility…




So could you love
A cat like me
When we sit,
Inside ourselves
Seething, believing
In deep poetic
Thought...
Or when we SCREAM
In silence from these
Magnificent howls
Crouching beneath
Our breaths?

See, we commune with the
Stars and the moon.
We speak fluently
In tunes…
Communicate
In gasps
In chants
And we move, we groove
In this hungry dance of
Ravenous spirits...

See, our souls caw...
Like lions we
Roar
And like tribal drums
Beat
Across
African shores, we
Throw our voices
Softly LOUD...
And allow
Our tears
To fall and then
To make
Noise.

And we cry…
Oh, how we
Cry in
Indigo
Hieroglyphics
And laugh
The high laughter
Of fools
And stoned romantics...

We whisper
We scream,
We sweat,
And make love
In deeply quixotic
Overtones...

So could you love
A cat like me?
Black like me?
Knowing that ...
To Love
A True and
For Real
Black Poet
Is to covet a
Word pimp,
Tongue-aflutter
With a butter
Fly-language,
Tribal drum-bangin’
Noise and Joy-bringin’
FREAK… who speaks
Between the
Sheets of a
Baaaaadass
Epic
Poem.



One.






© 2012 by L.M.Ross moaningmanblues All Rights Reserved

Do Old Mistakes + Old Regrets = Old Fool's Revenge?

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 discovering that she conducted an affair in the 1940s, reports the Telegraph.

The couple have been together for 77 years, but time was no healer when the husband, referred to by Italian lawyers as Antonio C, found evidence of the affair while rummaging through a chest of drawers. Having confronted his wife, who confessed to the affair, he is now seeking a divorce.



According to UPI, Antonio came across letters his wife had received from an old lover more than 50 years ago, making him suspect an affair. It is also reported that the couple have five children and 12 grandchildren along with a single great grandchild.

Copyright 2011 by Business Insider, Inc. All rights reserved. Reproduced with permission from Business Insider, Inc.”




Wow! Ain ‘t no fool like an old fool, right?


My questions: Does this man have a right to be so angry, so damned reactionary over something that occurred over half a century ago, when both he and his then YOUTHFUL wifey were young and foolish?


Does forgiveness have a timeline? Should it?

Can something we did or something that was done to us long, long ago still be allowed to come back and bite us in the ass? I mean, if it wasn’t as serious as, say, murder?

Exactly when does jealousy… insecurity, malice or possessing a super-fragile ego become utterly ridiculous?




Ponder… Share with me…

One.