On The Day The Music Dies

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 listen to my music! My i-Pod had died, and the stereo was a no-go. It made me very depressed to be unable to call upon those gods and goddesses of sound; those mood elevators, ambience shifters, and those spirit massagers who are as necessary to me as AIR!


It felt like the whole concept of music had DIED, leaving only echoes and shadows of voices in my head. That was my mental state. I wondered, what would this world be if we no longer had music. Many of us would experience a very lonely form of insanity, wouldn't we? Just meditating on this concept alone was deeply disturbing.

Anyway... that was when the birth this poem arrived.

I call it, "On The Day The Music Dies."



On the day the music dies
From the beak of Birds
Will come
A cry...

Clouds will rain salty tears.
Soprano winds will scat and blow
But no one left will
Hear.

On the day the music dies
The hands of genius will
Become paralyzed. Freedom
Will cease
To exist. Life, as we know it
Will no longer
Thrive.

The crash of oceans will be
Only noise, & Miles away
In some discordant pause,
You'll hear the sound,
The caw, the cry, the
Bleat, and the roar
Of my



SCREAM!




One Love.

copyright © 2010 by L.M. Ross

~Bluesicians In Winter~

winter is outside
my window again. it is
the broken spine of
a beggar trying
to walk
like
Duke Ellington.

it is that
Kinda Blue
frigid sista who
flooded by neon
solicits a man
who'll make her
SCREAM
like Miles Davis'
horn.

winter is outside
my window again. it is
the bag-Lady Day
carrying wind
in her veins and
Strange Fruit in her
shopping cart.

it is that soup line
be-bop
jazzed sorta
hop to keep the cold
from infiltrating
your posture.

winter is outside
my window again as
the profound sound of
bluesicians abound
in cold tears,
in chatter,
in homeless souls
trying hard
to matter
in this frigid
smoke-ringed city

of tin cans,
out-stretched hands
and a chorus of
indifference...
if you listen closely
and you'll hear
their hymn...
yet we coolly
divert our eyes
and close our ears to

them.



One.

copyright © 2010 by L.M. Ross

~Love~

I fall so humbled before you
I 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 poet
You'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 music
Rendered me, deficient
Pitiful, and useless.

You've made me lose my faith....
Lose sight of your bigger picture
Lose my way
And lose my swagger...

Yes, left me alone to cower,
To genuflect, to suffer
In shadows of your neglect...

You are fine as silk, and
Coarse as sandpaper
You are smoke and mirrors, and
Flesh turned to vapor...

You are spring and winter
Autumn and summer
And I revel and shimmer
In your utter incandescence.

You are the scar on my heart
And the balm of its healing...
The dark of starless nights...
And a brighter dawn revealing that...

You are always there...
You are always there...
Even as I lay
In bed, lonely and fetal
And sadly unaware...

You were always there,
Fair, and cruel
Relentless and uncool
And you throw your voice
Sometimes, like ventriloquists do.

You are the giver
And the taker, too
Thief and nurturer
Peaceful, then
The ultimate warmonger.
These are the many faces of you.

You are the seasons of the human heart.
A light, so radiant, on the flip side of dark
You are the cure for the lesions
In a tortured spirit...
Your dance is so beauteous
Yet so unpredictable
You cause some of us to fear it...

But me?
In the end, I revel!
Oh yes!
I revel
In your sheer and utter
Magnificence!

* * * * * * * * * *


Happy Valentine's Day!

One.


copyright © 2010 by L.M. Ross

The Dogma of Decency

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 spiritual enlightenment. I've learned some very valuable lessons about the minutia inherent in some of mankind: I've witnessed the ways of commerce and cruelty... and people who profit from deceit. It has been a year of harsh observations about ignorance and inhumanity, about faith and the faithless, about courage and cowardice, and most of all about the concept of personal perseverance. It is my belief that having gleamed those painful lessons, I am all the richer, as they will guide me through smoother, less turbulent waters in the future.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

There are so a few things that any of us KNOW for sure. And yet there are some Essential Truths, that, no matter one’s faith (or belief system, religion, creed or personal dogma), they become footsteps to the path of true Enlightenment.




During this Holiday Season, it is my sincere wish and hope that each of us, that all citizens of humankind will walk along that path of decency.


Brahmanism: This is the sum of duty: Do naught
unto others which would cause you pain if done to
you.: Mahabharata 5:1517


Christianity: All things whatsoever ye would
that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.:
Matthew 7:12


Islam: No one of you is a believer until he
desires for his brother what which he desires for
himself. Sunnah


Buddhism: Hurt not others in ways that you
yourself would find hurtful.: Udana Varga 5:18


Judaism: What is hateful to you, do not to your
fellowmen. That is the entire Law; all the rest is
commentary.: Talmud, Shabbat 31:a


Confucianism : Surely it is the maxim of
loving-kindness: Do not unto others that you would
not have them do unto you.: Analects 15:23


Taoism: Regard your neighbor's gain as your own
gain, and your neighbor's loss as your own loss.:
T'ai Shag Kan Ying P'ien


Zoroastrianism : That nature alone is good which
refrains from doing unto another whatsoever is not
good: for itself. : Dadistan-i-dinik 94:5


Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Happy Kwanzaa! Happy Eid to One & All!






One.


Lin

Gravity's Child/ My People... Hold On!

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 having a job, a career, a steady income, and riding along piggyback with this American tragedy comes the loss of those much-needed benefits.

My People… Hold On!

A family member has become another victim of foreclosure, and now he and his wife and kids are facing eviction within the next few days.

My People... Hold On!

The current economy is kicking major ass, in a myriad of ways, and only the strongest of us are surviving with our heads above water and our Grace intact.

My People… Hold On!


Most everyone is crying those running outta money blues, and I too know the lyrics to that song, by heart.

Currently I am fighting for something that is legally and morally my own, and yet it is being kept from me. I recently joined a union. In my ongoing journey in lone-wolfdom, I’ve never been much of a union person, yet there are times and situations in our lives when there is far more power in numbers than there is in fighting that good fight all by one’s lonesome.

I’m told to ‘be patient’… and please believe that I’ve BEEN patient until I’m blue in the freakin face!


My People… Hold On!


For the life of us, and our utter survival, there are some things we can control, and other things, that no matter how hard we try… they are clearly out of our hands. Being a spiritual person, I pray, I fast, and I mediate, on the regular. I also think positive thoughts. I try to be a good person, a sharing person, a caring and giving person. I sincerely try to become an agent for good. This is no way means I’m a perfect person, nor do I strive to be. I just believe that, whether good or bad, the Karmic energy we put out into The Universe has a way of coming back to us.

I believe that snatching JOY is not only doable, but very necessary to survive mentally, emotionally and spiritually in this world. It’s far too easy to embrace the negative, to allow it to feed off us, and to become ugly within our souls. Every day and in every way I am desperately, so very desperately trying to beautify my soul.

And so, I wrote this lil poem to remind myself and others that the survivor has an upright spine, the phoenix can still lives inside of us.

My People… Hold On!




* * * *


Gravity’s Child

Please…pay no attention if
My spine declines.
It’s my core position
Just before I rise
Like a phoenix
Whose wings
You’ve burned
I’ll just glow even
Brighter from
The lessons I’ve learned.

And you can best believe
You’ll not see
Me go down
Down on my knees…


I’m not a beggar
For coins or
Spare change
And my emotions
Never caused me
To feel any
Shame.
A selfish lover’s
Never satisfied
Until they’ve made
Something inside you
Cry…

But you’ll not see
Me go down
Down on my knees…


Bet you thought
I would be down
For a while…
I thought you knew
By now that I am
Gravity’s child.



So, pay no attention if
My pockets are bare
My greatest blessing
Comes from what
I’ve shared...

So I’m much richer
Than you’ll ever be
No devil holds my soul
Or kidnaps my dignity

And you can best believe
You’ll not see
Me go down
Down on my
Knees.


Pay no attention if
My spine declines…
It’s core my position
Just before I rise
Like a phoenix
Whose wings
Have been burned…
And just watch me glow
Brighter from
The lessons I’ve learned…

You may see me
Stumble and struggle
With Mother Gravity…
But you will not see
Me go down…
Down on my knees!




One.

LMR

Freedom Isn't Free

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 that at least 2,985 people died in the attacks, including:

19 terrorists
2,966 victims [2,998 as of Spring 2009]

All but 13 people died on that day. The remaining 13 later died of their wounds.



As of this day, in 2009, over 800 people who worked at Ground Zero have since died or become deathly ill from numerous cancers, lung and respiratory diseases. This is suspected to have been caused by all the debris from the Twin Towers.

Many of those brave and selfish people have no subtantial healthcare benefits today.


Have the terrorists won?


And so the death toll from that tragic day continues, even now.

Terrorism is a hideous disease that keeps on infecting.


There were 266 people on the four planes:


American Airlines Flight 11 (crashed into the WTC): 92 (including five terrorists)
United Airlines Flight 175 (crashed into the WTC): 65 (including five terrorists)
American Airlines Flight 77 (crashed into the Pentagon): 64 (including five terrorists)
United Flight 93 (downed in Shanksville, PA): 45 (including four terrorists)

There were 2,595 people in the World Trade Center and near it, including:


343 NYFD firefighters and paramedics
23 NYPD police officers
37 Port Authority police officers
1,402 people in Tower 1
614 people in Tower 2
658 people at one company, Cantor Fitzgerald
1,762 New York residents
674 New Jersey residents

1 NYFD firefighter killed by a man jumping off the top floors of the Twin Towers

There were 125 civilians and military personnel at the Pentagon.

1,609 people lost a spouse or partner on 9/11. More than 3,051 children lost parents.


While it was mostly Americans who were killed in this horrific attack, there were also 327 foreign nationals. Here is the breakdown, according to country:

Argentina: 4
Australia: 11
Bangladesh: 6
Belarus: 1
Belgium: 1
Bermuda: 1
Brazil: 3
Canada: 27
Chile: 2
China: 4
Cote d'Ivoire: 1
Colombia: 17
Democratic Republic of the Congo: 2
Dominican Republic: 1
El Salvador: 1
Ecuador: 3
France: 1
Germany: 11
Ghana: 2
Guyana: 3
Haiti: 2
Honduras: 1
India: 1
Indonesia: 1
Ireland: 6
Israel: 5
Italy: 4
Jamaica: 16
Japan: 26
Jordan: 2
Lebanon: 3
Lithuania: 1
Malaysia: 7
Mexico: 16
Moldova: 1
Netherlands: 1
New Zealand: 2
Nigeria: 1
Panama: 2
Peru: 5
Philippines: 16
Portugal: 3
Poland: 1
Russia: 1
South Africa: 2
South Korea: 28
Spain: 1
Sweden: 1
Taiwan: 1
Ukraine: 1
Uzbekistan: 1
United Kingdom: 67
Venezuela: 1




This does not include the brave soliders who have perished in the aftermath of 9/11.


And so, Let Us Never Forget...



Freedom ISN'T Free!



May God Rest The Souls of Those Innocent Lives.


One Love.


Lin

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 Angelou

Beloveds, 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 and walk our dances across the face of the moon. In the instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tide with the abrupt absence of our treasure..Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone. Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him. He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance. Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that. He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his. We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes. His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us. And we laughed and stomped our feet for him. We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given. Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square. In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England...

We are missing Michael."



Snatch JOY in Peace!


One.

Junkie

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 haunted enough to light a candle for him, and then to write this poem.



JUNKIE


Funky
Skunky
Untrustworthy
Junkie, I might just be
Your only friend
Left.

Maybe ’cause
You haven’t yet
Robbed
My car,
Broken into
My home,
Stolen my TV
And DVR.
You have not
Abused my trust
Turned my love
Into tainted
Dust… or
Made empty
Promises
I knew you
Couldn’t keep.

Yes, I’ve still
Got your back
Because maybe,
Just maybe
I’m nothing but
An addict too…
A junkie, scratching
The scabs of my
Sordid history
With you. I keep
Feeding off
Lost years of
Pick-up b-ball games
And Converse All-Stars
Mainlining
Good Moments and
Memories
Into my veins…




And now I’ve become
Some strange form of
Junkie…
Jittering to
This music
Of a past…
Tripping on times
When laughter made
Jazz and sparks in
A summer night’s
Darkness
And it was cool
To be young and
Foolish, too.

Maybe we’re all
Just junkies
Holding onto
Dreams
Tight as
Hypodermic
Needles…
Always looking for that
Transitory fix

See everyone
I know
Clings to
Something,
To someone
Or some shit
That may never
Come to be…



And so we
Junk ourselves
Away from
Reality. We stifle
We dope
We medicate our
Silent aches
With placebos
With nicotine
With liquor
With amphetamines
With something
That makes disaster
Seem a little more like
A dream.

Funky
Skunky
Untrustworthy
Junkie, I might just be
Your only
Friend left. Maybe
‘Cause beneath
The scratching,
Leaning palsy and
The slow-mo ballet
Just maybe I see…




How my veins
Have collapsed
From the weight of
My dreams
How my desires
Have atrophied
From someone
Else’s schemes
And my fingers
Wear sores and
Skid-marks
From clawing
And clinging to
Some illusive shit
That may never
Come to be.



The only difference is:

I’VE NEVER STOPPED
Believing.


One.

Rest In Peace E. Lynn Harris, Brotha of The Pen

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 celebrities, I am very skeptical. However, his publishing company has since confirmed this sad news.


Publicist Laura Gilmore said Harris died Thursday night after being stricken at the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills, and a cause of death had not been determined. She said Harris, who lived in Atlanta, fell ill on a train to Los Angeles a few days ago and blacked out for a few minutes, but seemed fine after that.


Born in Michigan, Harris grew up in Little Rock. He attended the University of Arkansas at Fayetteville, where he was the school's first black cheerleader. He continued to be a diehard Razorback fan. He had taught adjunct courses in the English department, most recently last fall.

His latest book, "Basketball Jones," is about the gay lover of an NBA star. As stated in the publicity blurb: "In Basketball Jones, E. Lynn Harris explores the consequences of loving someone who is forced to conform to the rules society demands its public heroes follow. Filled with nonstop twists and turns, it will keep readers riveted from the first page to the last." According to his website biography, Harris, 54, divided his time between Fayetteville and Atlanta.

While I never knew him personally, our paths crossed when he selected my work for the anthology he edited back 2005 called FREEDOM IN THIS VILLAGE. It was an honor to be the company of such esteemed writers, pioneers and legends as Melvin Dixon, Marlon Riggs, Essex Hemphill, Assotto Saint, Keith Boykin, Larry Duplechan, James Earl Hardy, Marvin K. White, Tim'm West, Gary Fisher, playwright George C. Wolfe, the incomparable James Baldwin, and E. Lynn Harris himself.

It was my hope that one day we would both sit in a room together, one on one, and just get drunk with talk and discover the many things that made our hearts faster. Now, I'll never get that chance.

This is a terrible lost to the world of writers and of writing. I know he will live on through his works.

My thoughts and deepest prayers go out to his friends and family.

One Love.


Lin

For Michael Jackson: The Man In The Mirror, Darkly

Dateline June 25, 2009...

8:30PM

CNN 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 about an hour later it was announced that he died, the reality of the moment became surreal. I could hardly wrap my mind around it.

I don't know about you, but having lost family members whom I truly loved and who knew and loved me, I can rarely cry at the deaths of celebs... even those I feel a certain kindred to don't jerk my tears. However, people like Michael Jackson are so much a part of my life, your life, OUR lives that the sadness of them passing feels like the death inside the one remaining corner of our childhood.

Yes, deep in the hoopla of his utter celebrity, he went on to make a freakish spectacle of himself... and vividly remembering Jackson as he once was, it became disturbing to see him. Yes, there was a swirl of suspicion and mystery surrounding him, his activities with young children, and his chronically bad judgment.

However, the essential truth is that Michael Jackson was first and foremost, arguably, the Greatest Entertainer this world would ever see. When he performed, there were sparks and something like electromagnetic energy shooting from his body. There are so many talented people in this world, yet his talent loomed so large, it was almost otherworldly. I feel fortunate to have lived in a lifetime that produced Sinatra, Miles Davis, The Beatles, Stevie Wonder, Prince... and then, there was Michael Jackson. So Young. Gifted. Iconic. Michael Jackson's music magically bridged gaps in culture, erased color-lines, spanned across generations and managed to rock the world in its entirety! It was no easy feat, and yet his career changed the course of modern history. Michael Jackson was clearly an innovator whose like we'll not see again.

The person he became in the later years of his life was a stranger to me. But whenever they replay those old J5 clips, it feels like home... so close to the heart and the bone and the soul of me.

The pretty brown skin afro-topped boy with so much talent, it exploded from him, this is what I choose to remember.

I miss THAT cat, and his talented brothers. I missed that cat long before he died. I miss the way he made me feel.

And so, with Michael Jackson's passing, it's as if something young, dynamic, free and full of possibility has died a sad death inside me.

Thank God for the music, the videos, the memories, and these beautiful people playing his songs and dancing in front of the Apollo and all over the world today!

Maybe that's what we're really supposed to remember: the way it made us FEEL!






My soul was awakened by Michael Jackson.

I was amazed by the gift of Michael Jackson.

I admired the music of Michael Jackson.

I sang the tunes of Michael Jackson.

I was addicted to the grooves of Michael Jackson.

I imitated the moves of Michael Jackson.

I grew up with the legend of Michael Jackson.

I celebrated the ascension of Michael Jackson.

I was fascinated by the aura of Michael Jackson.

I was transfixed by the wizardry of Michael Jackson.

I was so very proud of Michael Jackson.



I wanted to be Michael Jackson.



And then....



I became disappointed in Micheal Jackson.

I was saddened and confused by Micheal Jackson.

I was alarmed and concerned about Michael Jackson.

I became a little ashamed of Michael Jackson.

I was mystified and afraid for Michael Jackson.





I tripped upon the icon of Micheal Jackson.

But maybe I was wrong about Michael Jackson.

I wanted to believe in Michael Jackson.

I now grieve the life of Michael Jackson.





Thank God for the Music!

Rest In Peace, Michael Jackson.



One Love.