Election Day

She was pushed and punched before getting to her destination.
Tripped up,
she fell to the ground
forced to kiss Mother Earth.
She bled from her nose and full lips
raining her life force onto blades of grass and daffodils.
Old and walked over,
kicked in the back
and spat upon,
taunted,
she was laughed at and became sport for alley cats and stray dogs.
As time passed she tried to stand
to take another step
only to loose her footing
when the ground was removed.
But, as the day moved along,
with the sun rising and setting along the horizon,
she, in the shadow of a day soon to end,
casted her ballot for the candidate she only knew
as faith.
Then she turned for home.
Beaten back and bruised,
the only one victimized by her dreams for freedom.


Election Day by Shazza Nakim
Copyright © by Peace of Mind Publishings and with permission by Shazza Nakim

Middle-American Philosophies and The Vote

In a little less than a year we will have a new President of the United States of America. Normally I would begin to claps my hands together and throw them to the sky praising 'Hallelujah' but I have very little faith that Americans will do the right thing, especially with the candidates we have pursuing the highly coveted position of "Master of the World'. Oh, My Bad, I mean President of the United States of America.

I watch, listen, read and talk constantly about the nature of our political makeup. I take to task the Liberals and Conservatives, Democrats, Republicans and Independents with all of what they say and not say. My head aches from trying to decipher the hidden agendas, the political jargon and the messages between the lines of both press and print. It's the finest of high wire acts to balance the junk and dirt of our political process and the truth and fairness that it should be.

Following politics and political news is a harsh reminder of ones school day nightmares, the days, weeks and years locked in History classes of dry mono-toned readings and pictures of men in white wigs and stoic behavior. Reading old facts and events that at that time, clearly had no relevant connection to your youth and years later you have the free will to not pay attention to current events, those events making history because we mostly decide to end our mental classes early. Every day our knowledge of the historical moments of our nation are fit between the latest box scores and a Hollywood gossip.

So now its countdown, our caucus elections are coming up very soon. Ohio, South Carolina, Iowa and Florida citizens will be making a crucial decision on who out of the top political performers will sit on the throne of North America. Outside of the fact that the general election will most likely focus on the United States traditional two-party system, when you travel the nation and talk to many Americans across the country, you often find that people really don't pay attention to the issues. Most get their news about candidates based on non-political influences, biased reporting, religious guilt, pundit charactertures, confined beliefs that party is more important than practical reasoning and illogical decisions based on sound bites. In essence, there is little decision based on actual research or even common sense. Worst, you have those that do not come out to vote at all, disregarding their citizen's responsibility, constitutional right and national obligation for deciding on a Presidential leader much less a local figure.

When you talk to the average American about politics, you get them to a place where their true thoughts and feelings are exposed. I get many responses similar to the attitudes found on the website Casa D'Ice. These signs displayed may seem politically incorrect to some and or funny to others but the truth of the matter is, this is how citizens feel in Middle America and in all those small towns you pass on I-95. And these folks vote.

Since they have this vote, there should not be any excuses for a low turn out or lack of full disclosure of the candidates. Living outside the Caucus states and knowing in the last two Presidential elections both Florida and Ohio were at the middle of both polling scandals and election confirmations , how can I feel comfortable that my interests will be addressed. My concerns aren't party affiliated but serious Common Sensible.

Mitt and Rudy, A Waste of Public Air Space

OK I did it. I watched another Presidential debate. I have watched pretty much all of them thus far both, Democratic and Republican debates. My friends keep asking me why do I do this? Outside of my sarcastic response, “I do it to experience what the slaves of Egypt felt like when building the pyramids”, I mostly do it because I enjoy the whole political process. The nuances, the feigned emotions, the re-direct of the truth and the lies its all the best drama and blueprint for damning one’s soul to the devil. Most of all, I like examining the psychology of each candidate as they struggle forward into a position of global criticism. My cruel indoctrination into politics I remember like yesterday when I was a child and my parents forced me to watch Nixon’s debate. Years later my head hurt trying to comprehend how a Hollywood actor became President of the United States. I scratched my head in confusion when I kept seeing familiar faces in crowds when Bush Sr. was campaigning and when a hillbilly boy from the mid-west had Black people swooning and swaying for political liberation, I watched intently to see it all unfold.

In 1999, I recall watching G.W. Bush Jr., the Decider Extraordinaire, make comments that he would go to war with Iraq and this was when he was campaigning. I heard how his actions would keep America safe as well as make things right when Sadam Hussein tried to attack his “Daddy”, aka President G. W. Bush Sr. Very few people recall this dialogue or even refer to it anymore, although it was a platform for his campaign for President. I listened intently and watched his body language, the nuances, the feigned emotions, the re-direct of the truth and the lies. I studied his whole psychology and by 2000 I knew he would be President of the United States, twice. The timing was right, the people were in place and like all things, NO ONE PAID ATTENTION. Regardless of 9/11, I honestly believe George W Bush Jr. would have been re-elected to the post he and his circle worked for and we’d still be in the same situation with war and economic upheaval. The only difference is that the World Trade Center would still be standing.

So now where are we? Well without blowing up my computer up breaking this all down I will concentrate on two candidates from the Republican side of the debate, Rudy Giuliani and Mitt Romney.

In the most recent debate that was sponsored by CNN and YouTube in Florida (11/28/2007), there was a question related to Black on Black Crime. Let me bring you up to date just in case you missed it:

OH ROMNEY, YOU THE FOOL

Before I even go for blood with their answers lets just say this, when you answer a question like this, his “prep team” should have been smart enough to tell Mitt Romney to answer any and all questions related to Black Crime in the following manner, “I don’t recognize Black on Black Crime, but I do recognize Crime no matter what the ethnic and racial background is. No one wants to be a victim of “Crime” so I think the question you asked isn’t what I will do about Black on Black Crime but what will I do to stop the symptoms of Crime in Black Communities and all Communities?” Then Mitt Romney can answer in the tradition of “misdirect” and cultural alliterative grandstanding.
 
For the record, Hillary, Obama and John Edwards know how to do this and they do it well. So what happened here with Mitt Romney? Both he and his staff have a serious disconnect not with Blacks or even Black on Blacks, Mitt’s disconnect is with the "Origins of Crime"; or at least the crime we see that effect to poor and near poor. I mean, if you can answer questions on the origins of crime in America, you then can begin the dialogue on economics, social reform, legal equality, ethical and moral protective rights and more so, the big picture which is “the why and how we are creating chaos around the world”. 

“OH NO THAT MOFO DIDN’T!!!

Deflection of a question could have also worked but you have to come from a place of experience and expertise when you do it. Mitt Romney thought he had that when he answered that Black on Black Crime's origin come from the lack of the traditional Family. My jaw dropped when he tried that.

“Listen Mitt, I can call you Mitt since your answer seemed a bit in my living room eating my food personal, you crossed the line. Black people live in a Village for the most part. Believe it or not, we do work to make up the lack of role models in our communities with churches, volunteers, after school programs, community based programs, grandparents, aunts and uncles, written and oral histories, park activities and more."

"The large majority of BLACK PEOPLE do very well working with youth and maintaining order within communities (when government and outside private exploiters do not interfere). Statistically the numbers of people involved in Black on Black crime make up a small percentage of the overall Black population. You through a statistic that one of your research cronies dropped in your lap after glancing through Bill Cosby’s book, “Black People, Come On” would make you credible. WRONG, you came off like a JACK."
 
"What your dim-witted prep-team forgot to include from that same book was that there are other role models that are missing besides a FATHER like wealthy Blacks who left the community, WHITES who invest with destructive products and activities that distracts and entice the lowest common denominator within the community, fast food industries, lack of community services and the elitist that commandeer them for control and power over the poor, substandard education and the lack resources and then there are outside influences as well govern by back office deals from local government to DC that benefit Corporate America."
 
"Oh yeah Mitt, Black people do not own or control the plantations where drugs are grown and collected, processed and transported, no Blacks own gun manufacturing companies like Smith and West or move Military Style weapons across the nation and around the world, we don’t sit on Corporate Boards in the numbers proportional to the nations’ population, nor are we in areas that Blacks can counter-act those ills that afflict Black Communities."
 
"So Mitt, if the very best you can do is, FIND MY FATHER AND MAKE HIM MARRY MY MOTHER?, if that is your answer to BLACK ON BLACK CRIME, be prepared to write off 13% of the nation with that answer.”
 

Everybody, let me tell you, Bill Cosby’s message was for the Black Man and Black Woman to invest and or take back their own communities. There were no extra seats for WHITES to jump on and ride that ride. Nowhere in Cosby’s book (and let me remind you of the title again, BLACK PEOPLE, COME ON) did it propose that Black on Black crime is solely due to single parenting. And yes Mr. Romney, you just blamed BLACK MOTHERS FOR THE REASON WHY THERE IS BLACK ON BLACK CRIME. Those same Black Mothers that in the days of YORE were your Mammies and Maids raising your children and most likely you as well. “Man Mitt, you fucked up, stutter and all.”

IT WAS A RACE BAITING QUESTION

On the real, I didn’t think that that question was appropriate for the debate since before Black people can ask that question, one would have to have had done the work to clean it up collectively (which I personally feel we haven’t quite done yet) but there is White on White Crime which we hear very little of unless its WHITE COLLAR CRIME, Asian on Asian Crime (which exist but again we see and hear very little of it), Latin on Latin Crime (which is the double feature after the Black on Black Crime on the News), Black on Black Crime which is the opening News of the day but when there are People of Color on White Crime – that is Front Page stuff, the ratings buster, the how did the system break down stuff, the call in the experts and analyst and help us understand this stuff. its the FEAR STUFF.

If I had to do a YouTube debate question, I would have asked with my White Friend standing beside me, “To all of the candidates, what would you do to prevent BLACK ON WHITE CRIME?” Now that would be real news to talk about THE NEXT DAY.

HERE COMES THE MOB

That now brings me to Rudy Giuliani, AMERICA’S MAYOR. America’s Mayor? Where the HELL was I when they had that vote? I have so much to say about this guy but I can only drop the words in small doses. He’s like constipation, you know its coming, you feel the pain, and you can’t wait until it gets dropped so you can move on with life. What BURNS MY BUTT WITH HIM …. With this one, he actually said, "I REDUCED CRIME IN NYC?"

He did? Last I checked, New York City had gone through it largest economic boom (not with him at the helm, do anyone remember the BLACK NYC MAYOR David Dikins?) in YEARS. The whole NATION was going through the same BOOM. When people are working, they don’t have time to participate in crime petty or any other. City budgets were balanced, after-school programs were working, and non-profit organizations as well as community services were at an all time high because people had extra funds to donate as well as extra time. Parents had more time to spend with family (traditional and non-traditional), people traveled and more Black people became property owners, business developers and college graduates than any other time than ever before. Now this can also be said for all other ethics groups but when the economy radically changed (the Bush Years), Black Americans were hit the hardest.

So lets give the man his PROPERS.

Yes, Giuliani did bring down crime and took guns off the streets of New York City BUT he was also busting up the mafia and all those underground organizations that were bringing in the drugs and guns and flooding Black and Latin communities with the stuff in the first place. Many of the people busted were friends of Giuliani and his father who was a failed “Sopranos wannabe”. So in essence, HE ratted out and busted his friends for political gain.

OMG!!!, GULIANI DECREASED CRIME IN HARLEM BY 80%. ???

OK THIS IS COMMON SENSE TIME.

If Giuliani brought crime down in Harlem by 80% that would mean that only 20% of all Harlem citizens didn’t break the law or were law abiding. YOU DO THE MATH. I think he sat in too many showings of AMERICAN GANGSTER staring Denzel Washington or maybe it was NEW JACK CITY.

You have to remember, Rudy Guliani's background is law enforcement, better yet a policeman with a brain. he was able to rise through the ranks as a Prosecutor with all the tactics and Grey's Anatomy of urban guerrilla warfare. If you are not familiar with urban policing or a military background you'll miss the tone and tenor of the Guliani bravado. As Harlemites, they have heard it all too long from too many people. They have him to straight when it comes to the Guliani Agenda.

Giuliani reputation is that of a bully and an idiot and it scares me that AMERICA isn’t smart enough to catch on that he’s also a con man. Or are they?
 

One thing I know about bullies, idiots and con men is once confronted with a Bigger Bully, a Smarter Person, and the REAL PEOPLE IN POWER they become children and fearful and just follow the status quo. Does this type of LEADERSHIP SOUND FAMILIAR? -- Shazza Nikim on "The Wisdom of Power."

Back to the BLACK ON BLACK CRIME question, Black people already know what the long-term solutions are. The effort has to come from within without outside interference. Especially from those that represent the Republican Party today. Malcolm X said it perfectly, “WHITES CAN HELP US BUT THEY CAN'T JOIN US”. This might sound racist to those on the outside of the community but it is 100% true. You can’t love your brother until you first love yourself first. WHITES in America can take care of themselves, BLACKS on the other hand need to accept that WHITES don't, can't, shouldn't and will not take care of their communities. Generations have witnessed this and when Generation X wake into their consciousness, they too will find that they are disconnected from the American Reality. If there is any disconnect, first find out where that break is with yourself and then mend it. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but it doesn't have to be seamless, it just has to hold together. The Brother in a YouTube response I posted below made me applaud because he gets it and he knows that the amount of work it takes isn’t that much when dealing with "IDLE CRIME" in his community. In essence, if He Builds It, They Will Come.

Soulja Boy Pissin Off A Balcony

This is why it's important to practice an "Each One Teach One" philosophy in our communities, Soulja-Boy. The more I keep on top of what today's youth read or (or as teenagers and teenager wannabe's say) generation write and listen to (and that's almost laughable since kids are reading less and watching TV), we need to intervene with a sense of pro-active consciousness and responsibility. Now that TI is on a PATH TO PRISON, the new assault on youth behavior are in the actions of people like AKON, SEAN COMBS (ain't he almost 40?) and Soulja-Boy. Certain actions might look like fun and comedic but there lies actions that cross the line of inappropriateness and illegality.

Just the other day I was talking to an associate of mine whom I hadn't seen in a few years. We were discussing how the neighborhood had and is changing and why Whites, through gentrification and the politics behind it, were moving People of Color out especially since the kids on the street just don't care or respect enough to join in the fight their community. Within minutes, and I swear, as if on cue, I was in a Boondocks episode when a young Black kid no more than 16, walked down the street pissing straight out in front of himself, penis whipped out, just striding down the street talking on his cell phone as people and children approached in the opposite direction. There, just leaving a trail of urine as he sauntered to his destination. He had no care, no conscious, no modesty, no respect. JUST NASTY.

THAT'S NOT HIP-HOP NOR RAP OR EVEN BLACK

But, here I am working on a writing assignment when I get a piece of video from a writing buddy on Soulja-Boy and I am smacked in my Common Sense again. Yet another example of how not to represent ones power, influence or roll to model for our youth. Watch the Video first before continuing:

I DIVERT MY THOUGHTS FOR A SECOND

After watching a recent episode on The Boondocks (The Story of Thugnificent) where the show's premise was an infamous rapper "Thugnificent" moves to the neighborhood of Woodcrest, with his friend Macktastic and Flonominal, eventually leading to Granddad becoming annoyed with his new neighbours. Your basic older generation conflict of image control and respect vs the Niggaism of youth and just not giving a damn. After watching this episode, I took a second to examine if I was coming off too hard on Black youth because I am now moving into the point in my life where I am becoming my parents and envying my loss of youth. Then I later watched a program on PBS where teachers had gone into the slums of India and rescued children of prostitutes and sent them to school. All the while these children are learning, they are aspiring to become doctors, lawyers, engineers and business owners so they can come to America and become something greater than the children of the streets. There was common sense, a drive and a chance to capitalize on opportunity in each of them and that was when I said, FUCK NO !!! Regardless of their assistance, the help, the possible MOST FAVORITE IMMIGRANT STATUS, they would still have to put in the work to become what their goals are. With the amount of resources we have in the US; libraries, mentors, apprenticeships, community advocates, churches, libraries, sports and music programs (and I am not referring to Government Sponsored Programs), and even in the poorest academic settings, there are still outlets for additional resources if you actively seek them out, I can only say that our youth are just lazy, embarrassing ignorant and it's by choice.

Don't Call Me Uppity !!!

How I was raised worked out well for me. Now I know to some that might sound 'Uppity' but hear me out on this. I did not come from a fatherless family with a prostitute mother, my upbringing was not an easy story to read nor one traveled. My parents were not wealthy or anywhere close to wealthy. I wore all the stereotypical ghetto attribute labels but the one thing that divided me from my friends and family was that I did not want my conditions to define me. I made opportunities happen and I took advantage of all things that came my way. Not like a hustle but as distinct decisions that build upon the next as steps toward success. A sacrifice of what was "fun" verses what was "work". The payoff in the end was my goal(s). I made my progress on my own and not something community based. Because in the end, your successes and or your failures are your own. yes there are people who can and will help but you need to know where and when to ask for it or avoid those things that will pull you away from your growth. Do I have mansions and millions? No. But I do know where I came from and its a lot better than where I was. My choice.

When I look at my friends from my youth, we all had the same opportunities/possibilities and I can honestly say that in my desire to move toward my personal success, their choices were their own. Their decisions where based upon "fun" as oppose to "work" and now that we are all adults, when we speak, their thoughts often go back to the point in their lives where they step away from that path and walked in a different direction.

Who's Fault?

For these kids from India, the bastard children of prostitutes, it will work out well for them and they will be in America. The actions of that boy relieving himself in public like that, I'm not so sure. He was ignorant and nasty considering the fact that we live in a civilized nation with plumbing, running water and bathrooms. You can't tell me that no one ever taught this boy that what he was doing was wrong. He clearly just didn't give a damn. No excuses. Worst case, the boy could have crossed the street and walked into the park -- AH YEAH, THERE WAS A PARK ACROSS THE STREET. He could have relieved himself there. Then there were a number of shops with bathrooms along his walk. Hell, the shop that I stood in front of talking to my friend had a public restroom. How do you begin to address the "disconnect" when no one want to listen or even try?

The Soulja-Boy video, (outside of the fact that you have a 17 year old in a room unsupervised), the kid was in a hotel room. Last I checked, hotel rooms have bathrooms. WHY ARE YOU DROPPING URINE ON THE HEADS OF PEOPLE? Not to mention the balconies of the people below. THEN YOU VIDEO TAPE YOUR STUPIDITY??? Even more so, you are more concerned about having your tiny penis being filmed or having the stigma of being "gay" than being arrested and thrown out of the hotel? GO FIGURE?

I have been told that I sound like Bill Cosby ranting about the poor. I really don't know how to take that. I mean I do believe in a lot of what he has to say yet I am also part of the community he is talking about as well. In being that, and having an open mind, much of what he preaches is true and behind closed doors, inner city parents, clergy, educators, small business owners, and others agree whole heatedly. It just seems that those whom scream the loudest opposing Bill are those who capitalize on the disenfranchisement and perpetuation of Niggaism in the poor as it relates to People of Color.

Bill Cosby has a book out entitled, "BLACK PEOPLE, COME ON", which should be the focus of Black People for the next ten years. Say what you want about the man, he has a serious point to make and we are missing it because all we only see is Bill Cosby as a comedian when he is a man who wants to re-connect the disconnect in all of us by keeping our youth from pissing on the path which lies before them.

Eve's Rib

She cuts onions and cried
camouflaged tears of lying bliss
in a home of golden pastures
and dancing dreams
created from vows of soul searched passions,
the evidence of an evening of euphoria.
Bellowed as grandfather clocks do
when scheduled needs and desires
are amiss and not met late yesterday,
she cuts,
slices,
and dices
from cookie molds
shaped like innocent pre-forged icons
and baked sugary tart meals of Cimmerian delight.
Betrothed into the domain of Sisyphean
shamed and saddened to have looked away from Agamemnon,
her hidden silence became too profane for copious people.
When day became night
only the stitch in her side,
the irony in her laughter,
became the only joy in life
in her dreamless world.

Eve’s Rib by Shazza Nakim
Copyright © by Peace of Mind Publishings and with permission by Shazza Nakim

America's Disconnect With The Noose

The hanging of The Nooses is not a new thing, its just the new NEWS REPORTING HIGH of American media. High meaning when News breaks from its formula for concentrating on what editors perceive what the Public needs to know or what will keep ratings HIGH, occasionally will pull its lenses just so far back enough to report on events that sheds light on the real America. Malcolm X stated it best when he said, "Pulling the skirt up on American and showing her privates to the world". Since I was a child, I have always pulled on America's skirt and often gotten my hands smacked. I like that feeling but like all things, there are consequences to challenging the establishment.

I had posted a picture on Yahoo not that long ago which displayed a photo of the lynching of a Black man highlighting an article entitled, "Why I Am Not Your Nigga". I received from Yahoo an e-mail stating that my article as well as picture was being censored. I responded back that Yahoo had no right and I re-posted it. I knew then that the idea and practices of Noose hangings were happening as well did Black People in America. And even though the events in Jena, La. was common and the News were draggged kicking and screaming to cover and evolve into recent events, the knowledge that it is ongoing then and now doesn't make an impact on American White Society because as each "hanging noose" is found, the notion that they are perceived as "pranks" become the common theme and not hate crimes.

It amazes me that if one defaces a church, its a Hate Crime. Draw swastikas on a synagogue, its a Hate Crime. Chase, bash or tie up a Gay people? A Hate Crime. Hang a noose from a tree or on someone front steps .... its a Prank. America has a serious disconnect.

Amanda

"Come on. Just get me two more miles and I'll love you forever.", he said to his 1989 Plymouth. This car was one of many cars he had had and was probably one of many more to come. Stroking his gray rust machine as gently as a newborn, he sensually said, "Come now baby, I can get you that gas. You can drink all you want, but you gotta work with me baby."

The road, winding in an uneven spiral, made his car work for every inch traveled. And you heard it. Whining and wheezing like and asthmatic, it tried to no avail in its pursuit to make it, but that last hill was too much. She died. Hard.

"No Goddamn it! Don't do this shit to me! Not here! Not now!", you heard his plea even over the wind blowing. Hard. Did I forget to tell you, it was winter and very cold? Coldest day of the entire year, at least that’s what the local AM news reported.

The man looked down at his tank gage as if to search for a mirac le or at least a mistake in judgment on his part. He looked out of his front window and could barely see more than a mile ahead. The same for his rear window. After sitting for a while he began to wrap himself in layers of clothing. The rest was obvious. He was going to brave the elements.

The door slammed with finality as he walked along the highway. He thought of how he should have taken better care of his car and how much he hated people who could afford new ones. He even thought how much he hated people who had working cars period. The world was not his oyster.

The weather, unforgiving, ripped across the man in all directions. It was only a matter of minutes before he felt the cold gnawing at his limbs. In what seemed like hours of walking, a car approached. He waved it down and it stopped. Slipping and sliding he struggled toward it.
"Hey Guy! Oh sorry my Bad, I mean Miss, can you help me?"

She was beautiful he said to himself. Bunched in her car. No make-up, her hair plain, contrasting the world outside. Not a blemish to detract from her natural look, she was and angel. She was perfect.

"I need a ride to the nearest exit or gas station."
"That your car back there?", she asked.
"Yeah. She just couldn't make the trip."
With a smile that showed her teeth, as white as the heavily falling snow, she said, "Hop in. Its pretty bad out there."

Without hesitation the man shuffled to the passenger's side of this royal green vehicle. Just as he reached for the door to open, his feet flew out from under him. Embarrassed, you heard a muffled, "Fuck!", as he tried to stand. Once inside of the car, snow covered an ego broken and the door closed. Then they moved slowly, careful not to slide and spin.
A few minutes passed when the man said, "Its OK to laugh now."
And with that the woman exhaled with a howl of laughter that cut deep into the air. The man, knowing the situation, could only but join in the hysterics.

"What's your name?", the woman asked.
"Walt. Walt Collins"
"Walt, as in Walter?"
"No just Walt, its not short for anything. So where you coming from? If I may ask?"
"I'm not coming from anywhere, I'm going", as she looked at Walt with a smile.
"You sure have a pretty smile", Walt said with a grin. "What's your name?"
"What do you think?", she responded.
"Hell, I don't know, its why I asked."
"What do I look like?"
Perplexed by her question, "What?"
"I mean, if you had seen me for the first time, and you have, what would you say I look like if you had to give me a name."
Walt paused and being quite unsure of what to say or do, tried not to cause any friction as he strained to find a name. It had to be a name both beautiful and playful. Looking deep into her eyes, he said, "Amanda".
"You must like that name.", she said.
"No. Yeah. It's a name that I find alluring yet compassionate."
Smiling a bit," So you must find me alluring and compassionate."
"Very beautifully too."
"Why thank you Mr. Walt Collins you just made my day."
"So what's your name?"
"Believe it or not, it is Amanda."
"No fuckin way!"
"It is."
"Get the fuck out of here! You shitin me?"
"No, seriously, it is. Look in my glove compartment and take out one of my letters. The name is on the front.
With quickness, Walt opened the glove compartment and found an envelope only to find that the letterhead read, "Amanda Dru."
"Fuckin A, I don't believe this. What are the odds of this happening?", holding his head in his hand in total disbelief.
"Probably better than craps in Vegas.", she added.
"You ain't lying."
“You a gambling man Walt?”
“Sometimes, some poker occasional blackjack.”
“So you are a thinking strategy man. You like to see all the cards on the table.”
Walt looks at Amanda with admiration and says, “Wouldn’t anybody?”
“No. Most people don’t, Amanda answers. “Just think, if you knew everything all the time, saw all the cards, even if you counted all the cards, you’d be cheating. Where’s the excitement, what’s the purpose if you can fix the game?”
“Having a shit load of money! “, Walt laughs out.
“But not in Vegas. I’ve been there many times. People tend to disappear like that”, Amanda says as cold as the wind blowing outside the car.
Walt’s laugher killed, “True.”

After a while of small talk, Walt asked Amanda, "So, you got family?"
"No, don't have time."
"What, you some executive or something?"
"Just a collector."
"IRS?"
She turned her head slightly and said, " No, but we both have a lot in common."
"I'm unemployed. Been that way since the Bush got in offices."
"I been getting most of my best work during these years."
"Shit you ain't foolin me, you are one of those corporate types. Real Estate? Flippin’ Houses. Just look at this car. What is it? A Lexus? A Catty? Mercedes? I ain't seen a car like this before."

"Its not on the market."
"A demo?"
"For now. Its servers a purpose."
"And that being?"
"Getting me to where I have to go."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Where you have to go?"
"Tannersville."
"Oh ho ho ho, this is too spooky. That's where I'm goin. My mom lives there and that's who I gonna see. Hell that reminds me, I have to play the Pick- for her today. She said she had a dream about hittin’ the numbers.”, Walt tells Amanda as he digs for the paper with the numbers.
Focused upon the road ahead, Amanda doesn't respond.
The two ride some more until an exit comes along. It is not long before the two see a service station and settle.

"Do you want anything Amanda?"
"No thank you. I'm fine."
Closing the door Walt walked into the service station. Inside he saw a gawky looking man in oil socked blue jeans and a red and green flannel shirt. Walking towards Walt as if his workman boots were too tight he asked, "So, how may I help you?"
"I'm outta gas and my car is stalled up the road. I want to buy some gas.", Walt told the man.
"You got anything to put it in? Canteen? Bottle or something?", the man asked straining to see the car Walt had arrived in behind him.
Confused as to what the man was trying to do, Walt said, "No. I was hoping you might have something to put it in."
"Nope. Don't have anything like that. How about your blond friend?"
I don't know. I'll check. Be right back."

Walt walked back to the car but was a bit bothered because the man thought that Amanda had blond hair. Thinking the man was nearsighted or the snow was just playing with his eyes, Walt ignored the man's comment and thought of it as him being very nosy.
At the car Walt tapped on the window. Amanda with a smile lowered the window and asked, "Is everything OK?"
"I guess. I was wondering if you had something to put gas in?"
"That's all. Sure. Let me look in the back.
Amanda popped open the trunk of her car. Getting out she walked to the rear of it and opened the trunk all the way.
"Hey Amanda, aren't you kinda cold?", Walt asked in wonderment.
"No.", and she continued to move items around until see found a gallon jug. "Will this do?"
"Sure would. Thanks. I'll be back."
Walt jogged back into the station more for its warmth that his urgency. The man in the back saw him re-enter and met him half way.

Hey guy, will this do?"
"If you can get some gas in it, it'll do. Go inside there. That's the back entrance of the store. My little girl will ring it up for you."
"Thanks sir." Walking in the direction of the store Walt turned, "Excuse me again but can you tell me if you can give me a ride back to my car?"
"You not with that little lady out there?"
"Naw, but I wish."
"Yeah she is a looker. No problem. How far are you?"
"About four, maybe five miles."
The man nodded and walked toward the back of the station. Walt entered the store where a young woman was looking outside of the storefront. Dreamy eyed and focused, she never heard Walt come in through the back.

"Excuse me?"
Jumping with a startle, the woman knocked over a rack of candy and potato chips. Holding her heart, she fumbled upon the floor to pick up the fallen items. In total embarrassment, she looked at the floor to avoid looking into Walt's face. Walt, feeling a bit of humor in the situation, helped her clean up the mess.
"Oh my Lord! You done scared me half to death. I didn't hear you come in."
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that but the man told me to come this way."
"Oh no problem. It was the only bit of excitement I got all day with this weather and all."
"Yeah I know it."
"If I wasn't standing here looking at your friend I might have heard you. Very good-looking. Where yous from?"
"I'm from outside Pittsburgh. Baden."
"Heard of it. So yous two been friends long?",asked very investigative like.
"Just met about a few miles back. Lucky me though."
"Yeah, lucky you."
As Walt began to pay for the gas, the woman looked in the direction of the car outside. Still caught up in her fascination, she missed Walt giving her his money.
"Three dollars?", Walt reminded the woman.
"Oh yeah, three dollars."
She fumbled in the cash register draw and took out his change.
"Your change sir, now have a good day and good luck to you."
"Yeah I'm gonna need it. My mothers home really sick and is expecting me."
Sympathetically, "Well I'm sorry to hear that.", the woman said.

As Walt walked out of the door, the woman called, "Sir! Sir!"
Walt turned confused as the woman waved for him to return.
The woman, a bit embarrassed, " I know that this isn't right but can you do me a favor. Can you give this to your friend." The woman scribbled her name and number on apiece of recipe paper gave it to Walt. "Tell him to call anytime."
"Him?"
"Yeah him.", and she smiled.
Dumbfounded, he could only say, "Whatever."

Walt walked outside and tapped on the hood of Amanda's car. Again she lowered her window.
"So you're set handsome?"
"Very much so. Thanks for all your help."
"No problem."
"Here. This if for you. Its from the girl inside.", Walt motioned with his head in the direction of the store. " I think she wants you."
Turning to get a better look at the woman, Amanda chuckled and bit her lip. Turning to look at Walt she returned, "Well, I just will have to consider this one proposal at a later date." And with that she placed the number on the dashboard.
"Well since we are on the subject of telephone numbers, how about we do a little exchanging ourselves?"
"Sorry. I can't, but it was a pleasure."
Making puppy dog eyes at Amanda, "Now after all we have been through together, why not?"
"Work. I do it all the time. I don't get a break and I rarely mix the two."
"You know what they say about work?"
"I know. I was the one who patented it."
"You know, I can make you laugh."
"True, you were the only one in years who have made me laugh."
"It felt good didn't it."
Amanda nodded in agreement.
"So whenever you want to laugh, you can call me."
"No. But thanks anyway."
Amanda began to roll up her window when Walt shouted, "Wait! What about your container?"
Amanda retorted, "Keep it. Its not important."
Amanda began to place her car in gear when Walt stopped her again.
A bit insistent Amanda responded, " Yes Walt?"
"Where in Tannersville are you gonna be and how long?"
A bit hesitant, Amanda glanced at Walt and said, "Chadham Creek Lane and I'll only be there for a minute." And with that Amanda drove away.

Looking at the car move into a flurry of swirling snowflakes, Walt could only think again, "Three coincidences in a row? My mother lives on that street." And he smiled in amazement.

Walking back, Walt noticed that Amanda's car left no track marks in the snow. Nor did it leave a print where it had rested for nearly ten minutes. “Wait a minute?, he thought to himself, “Where are the foot prints?” A rush of fear hit Walt. A fear as real and as cold as the very winter chill itself and the only thing he could do was scream after Amanda because he had tried to make a date with Death.

Black Wealth

It's waking up in the morning.
Again.
Having heat unexpectedly
on the coldest day in winter.
Washing in the sink
and not seeing roaches
falling from the ceiling
or from the walls.
Having more than just one bowl of cereal,
with fresh, unshared milk,
and then going to school
with a piece of new clothing
harvested just at the peak of Lay-A-Way season
and not belong to someone else.

It's to be able to know your father's name
or even a face,
To receive a government check
barely enough to cover the rent
in a multi-leveled
multi-family
tenement.
It's to live somewhat safe
with four or more locks on a door
made of metal and hollowed steel.

It's sharing a single bed
with only one cousin, one brother, and a sister,
and having drive by bullets miss you.
While you sleep.
Again.
It's being home alone,
unlike a movie,
when your mother works the triple shift
at the factory, and the bar, and the hospital
cleaning toilets and bed pans.
Scrubbing like her mother, and her mother before her.

It's having the telephone work
just enough to pretend no one is home.
Or it's to eat all of your meals in the kitchen
which is the living room
and the guest room,
and the bed room,
and the recreation center
for everyone's child that stops by
for a piece of family.

It's having Christmas
where Santa is charity
and birthday gifts, sacrifices.
Road trips to the corner store
for penny candy and frozen koolaide
while watching live entertainment
where bad guys are Black
and the good guys are in uniform
-- according to TV.

It's strolling with strollers
and hearing a choir of crying babies
sucking on bottles of Simulac
and wearing half taped Pampers
sagging from neglect.
Being able to say No
when rocks are thrown your way
or being able to walk away from a fight
and not lose your breath
and your heart.
It's rapping your way to popularity
snappin' your friends' mothers
and being good
started all because
you're bored.
It's helping an old lady up from her knees,
knocked over
for her purse,
with nothing in it.
The same old lady who knows and loves us all
because that is all she now has.
Only the love.

It's watching suited men
on corners
bald and loud
singing praises to Allah
or selling newspapers of unity speaks,
bean pies and carrot cake, and bow ties
preparing me for the war.
Those same corners where the night time car riders go.
It's having a friend stop by
to visit.
Again.
Staying all because no one is at his home
and he has no other place to go,
to eat,
to sleep,
to dream.

It's having a mother come home
too tired to ask
"how you survived?"
Again.
It's the cashing in the day's worth,
the both of you,
and having enough spare change for
another day.
It's the love that is the worth.
A wealth that comes from
love.


Black Wealth by Shazza Nakim
Copyright © by Peace of Mind Publishings and with permission by Shazza Nakim

Only Great Leaders Die (.... for the Cause)

Exhausted by the labors of the day
I became a physical casualty of a reality war.
My body ached.
My head pounding.
Visibly tired,
Too weak to continue,
I desired to release my burdens upon an angry world.
On someone.
Anyone.
Dump them into a box
Deep and wide,
One capable of withstanding the years.
A box to stand the tests of time.
To house excess baggage.
To drop my brother into
for he is heavy.
I want to be free enough not to ask the question often asked.
Is there life after death?

I see no evidence of such a thing,
The living dead.
I know because I wake and walk the Earth daily.
Talking, and not saying anything.
Working, and not making anything.
And praying, and I getting
Nothing.
So tired am I that its effect bring me full circle.
Circle into rings,
Rings into links of chain,
Chains fastened at the ankle
-- Balled and chained.
Weighted down by the human condition .
I struggle and pull for freedom.
Tugging away for just an inch ,
Until I can only ask but for one thing ,
"Sleep".

So they say
To sleep is to give up,
And to give up, is to die.
As a result I cheat,
and slave.

More and more,
Harder and harder,
Until the skin that is on my hands
Rip free from each finger.
And bones snap under pressure.
The pain from my shoulders arch into my back
Causing my knees to buckle from the stress,
Allowing my foot to tear free from its shackles.
Giving my all
To you.
My people.
My cause.
Sacrificing
Life and limb.


Only Great Leaders Die by Shazza Nakim
Copyright © by Peace of Mind Publishings and with permission by Shazza Nakim

Where are the ANGERY BLACK PEOPLE ??

You know I truly think at some point in the past eight years I had fallen asleep, and when I awoke, I was in the 1950's and 60's. Between all the hanging of nooses and Black men being corralled and or imprisoned in high numbers with those that are able to escape those statistics are then placed with those that rank Black men in a category of high unemployment and or underemployment. I fancy myself a historian often searching text, video, lectures and now the modern Internet for those insightful details on the past and yet, the more I find from the past, the more I witness that only the dates have changed, all the events and actions seem to be exactly the same. Even more disturbing is that some of the major and minor bit players then, in their youth, are still around calling the shots in their twilight of their years.

I had turned on my television for my early morning shot of CNN to see as the Hot Topic: 8 Acquitted of Manslaughter in Bootcamp Case. If you are not familiar with this case, let me update you.

8 Acquitted of Manslaughter in Bootcamp Case

PANAMA CITY, Fla. (AP) — Eight former boot camp workers were acquitted of manslaughter Friday in the death of a 14-year-old boy who was videotaped being punched and kicked. The scene sparked outrage and changes in the juvenile system, but it jurors took just 90 minutes to decide it was not a crime.

Anger over the verdict was obvious outside the courtroom, where bystanders screamed "murderer" at former guard Henry Dickens as he described his relief at the verdict.

Martin Lee Anderson died a day after being hit and kicked by Dickens and six other guards as a nurse watched, a 30-minute confrontation that drew protests in the state capital and spelled the end of Florida's system of juvenile boot camps.

"I am truly, truly sorry this happened. Myself, I love kids," said Dickens, 60. He added that Anderson "wasn't beaten. Those techniques were taught to us and used for a purpose."

The defendants testified that they followed the rules at a get-tough facility where young offenders often feigned illness to avoid exercise. Their attorneys said that Anderson died not from rough treatment, but from a previously undiagnosed blood disorder.

An initial autopsy by Dr. Charles Siebert, the medical examiner for Bay County, found Anderson died of natural causes from sickle cell trait. A second autopsy was ordered and another doctor concluded that the guards suffocated Anderson through their repeated use of ammonia capsules and by covering his mouth.

The boy's mother, Gina Jones, stormed out of the courtroom. "I cannot see my son no more. Everybody see their family members. It's wrong," she screamed.

"You kill a dog, you go to jail," said her lawyer, Benjamin Crump. "You kill a little black boy and nothing happens." He spoke outside court, which is across the street from the now-closed Bay County boot camp.

Anderson's family repeatedly sat through the painful video as it played during testimony. They had long sought a trial, claiming local officials tried to cover up the case. The conservative Florida Panhandle county is surrounded by military bases and residents are known for their respect for law and order.

The guards, who are white, black and Asian, stood quietly as the judge read the verdicts. The all-white jury was escorted away from the courthouse and did not comment.

Special prosecutor Mark Ober said in a statement he was "extremely disappointed," but added, "In spite of these verdicts, Martin Lee Anderson did not die in vain. This case brought needed attention and reform to our juvenile justice system."

Then-Gov. Jeb Bush had been a strong supporter of the juvenile boot camps, but after Anderson's death he backed the Legislature's move to shut down the system and put more money into a less militaristic program.

Bush appointed Mark Ober, state attorney for Hillsborough County, as special prosecutor in the case. Bush also scolded Tunnell for exchanging e-mails with current Bay County Sheriff Frank McKeithen, in which he criticized those who questioned the effectiveness of the boot camp concept. He also made light of the protesters in the state capital.

Copyright 2007 The Associated Press 10/13/07

Watch the video of the beating and think about it. Not in terms of what happened but substitute your son, daughter, brother, sister, mother or father and allow yourself to let all the people involved off with no responsibility.

--------

If you notice, I highlighted specific words in this article. The key is to read between the lines. I did not add or edit, I just brought to the front what the people involved actually think and feel. I especially like what the attorney had to say on the subject of a seven (7) one (1) woman beating and eventual death of a 14 year old boy; the murdered Martin Lee Anderson, "You kill a dog, you go to jail. You kill a little black boy and nothing happens."

Surprise! Surprise! That was the rule when slavery was the norm in America, it was the norm after slavery and the rise of the Klan, it was the norm during the civil rights movement where dogs and fire hoses were turned on peace Black Protesters of racism, and in 2007 where men can be draged to death, nooses can be hanged in public and government places and Black Children can be beat to death. With statements, sentiments and reality as it is, we might want to re-examine Michael Vick's dog-fighting charges. Seems like he should have gotten a slap on the wrist if dog lives hold a higher value than a black boys.

When Rodney King was beaten by the Los Angles Police department, the results were massive riots, violent and looting in the streets. With this verdict the parents just get money and an agreement to not push the matter beyondthe final decision.

I guess Black people are more civilized and settled in their continued oppression?

An Herbal Delight of Vanilla and Maple Blend

Rubbing gently across my brow
a stone cut cup
holding tea of a vanilla and maple blend.
Hot
I part lips and kiss the wind
blowing heat and steam to create
mists that drift into an open sky
bitter and chilled.
Autumn
dry leaves
shriveled and blacked
lifeless from the cold.
I rest.
Seated before a painted horizon
as brilliant as it is somber.

Third wall to a triangle
oblong and unequal,
Sip
I burn my tongue
one which tasted you from head to toe
now numbed by my herbal delight.
Silence
like the air
I sit
knowing that you lie above
in darkness
no longer a creature of the light.
Now demoted to a non-fictional character
drawn out of proportion,
much like the triangle.
Drawn from tension
unable to be released.
We all --
one lying,
one running,
the other sitting,
wait for winter's touch
and another cup of herbal delight.

Passion hurts when you give it freely
from the doorstep,
to the bedroom,
and into the heart
where it seeds,
and grows,
placing all that it is
in shadow.
And I cut it down
into chips of kindle
to burn
heating everything
in you,
in me,
and in the other.
No longer equal and strong,
forever numbed by the burning.
Forever drinking herbal tea
of a vanilla and maple blend.



An Herbal Delight of Vanilla and Maple Blend by Shazza Nakim
Copyright © by Peace of Mind Publishings and with permission by Shazza Nakim

What Is Sexy

I took this young woman to dinner just the other day. It wasn't a date, just something that I wanted to do because I really liked her company. I do this occasionally when I meet people who interest me. While dining, the conversation was on a variety of different topics, much of which were on the current state of Black people in the United States, Reparations and the War on Terrorisms. As dinner came to its conclusion with both of us laughing because we were trying not to look too greedy by scraping the dessert plates for extra chocolate frosting, our eye caught for a moment and there was a moment of silence. Out of the blue my friend said to me, "You know, you are a sexy man." Now this took me back for a moment, this came from a associate, just a friend who's company I liked and vice versa. My smile soon turned into a blush and all I could say was, “Naw, I’m just an average looking man. Nothing special about me.” We got up and decided to walk off the BBQ Ribs through Central Park all the while I'm thinking about what my friend said.

She thought I was sexy. “Not Phine”, “the Bomb” or “All That”, but sexy. In my humble way I said thanks and played down the complement to place myself on the same level as the average person yet in the past I have been told this before.

As we exited the restaurant walking toward Central Park, we continued to laugh and take an interest in what the other had to say and I couldn’t help but recall that Jill Scott song of walking through a park, talking, and holding hands. We ended the evening on a positive note, instead of letting my friend take the train, I hailed a caband paid for the fair in advance, gave her a kiss on the cheek and thanked her for a good time and dinner. later that evening I called to thank my friend for spending the time with me again and for sharing. As the night ended into day, that one comment stayed alive and burning into my conscious. What then was a simple complement became an irresistible thought in my head. I was told I was sexy. Now why was this a big deal? It wasn't the first time someone had told me this. Yet at that moment, of all moments, the idea that I might have been sexy or at least the practice of sex appeal was a part of the way I carried myself, it became a notion which I needed to understand about myself.

In the mirror, I began looking at myself. Examining my ears, my mouth, my lips, my jaw line and eyes. I smiled, checked my hair line, I even tried to look at my butt, but all I saw was a simple Black Man, no more special than the next. I didn't look like an NFL Running Back. I didn't stand eye to eye with the NBA's best, my twin wasn’t Denzel Washington or a Morris Chestnut, I have an intellect but I was not the next Cornell West, all that I was , I was. Most of the time, I can be very critical as to how I look, sometimes all out harsh but as I found out, that was one of the reasons why sex appeal appears in the Black Man. Releasing one’s self to the World and dealing with everything it has to offer, you really can’t worry about how you looks. Not that vanity doesn’t have its place in society, but I guess those that live oblivious for it, stand out. Angie Stone knows this. She sings songs about it. Call it the Baby Theory. They don’t know how cute they are, they’re just babies and do what babies do by nature.

Over the next few days, I sat down with some people to ask what was sexy. I even asked those people who suggested I was sexy to tell me why (although most of the comments got a little racy, and yet I kept the "P" in professionalism and continued to take notes.) From what I learned, the comments were very enlightening and gave me much food for thought.

Here is what I found

Honesty. That was the most direct thing that I heard. Now this wasn’t rocket science to me but it is a rare quality in men and women. Now I'm not saying that I've never lied because Lord knows that I have learned over the years, it's too much stress to keep it real with everyone. It saves your peace of mind in every situation. Honesty and living without regret for what you say and do is considered clean living when dealing with one’s character. People like that. Especially in relationships. To be able to express yourself with confidence and clarity, to anyone about anything at any time is a genuine quality. It’s this type of energy that is generated and shines brightly for everyone to see. So bright that it attracts people like a moth to a flame. Anyone near will get a sense of comfort and safety, which no matter how you look at it, there will be a sense of attraction and or curiosity.

Compassion. People hate selfish people. That covers a lot of area. Financially, socially, spiritually, intellectually in conversation, even in sex. You have to be willing to allow others to be themselves. To do that you allow for a sense of freedom to be who you are. When I'm with people, and we talk, I want to know what's their deal. What is on their active minds? How do they think? Their basic dreams and deeply rooted fears. This also includes sex. Not the dirty talk, but the real talk. The honest talk about sex. The honest sex talk that your Church won't allow you to talk about for fear of burning enternally in Hell talk. It’s not like, “I do this and I'm gonna do that and the rules state you are to only want that and I only do this”, but a,” what do you get out of sex” and “what do you feel spiritually during and after sex”. The dimensions that come with understanding allow you to exploit your own unique ways and a sense of confidence in everything that you do.

Take for example, Men (Black and Latino Men in particular) do not like to perform oral sex on females yet will accept it from women in a heartbeat. For women, that makes them feel like men look down upon them or makes them feel dirty. Now take notes, this is where intellect and conversations comes in to play. Ask a Brother why he doesn’t like to perform oral sex and usually you won't get a straightforward answer or the answer is that it is nasty. So they are willing to force a one sided sexual encounter as long as they are not challenged in bed. Breaking it down, the nasty part is an issue of a woman's menstrual cycle or talk that has warped their minds from youth to adulthood. The fact that the area where a woman wants to be stimulated is also the same area where she urinates is not a coincident. The fact that Men, much like Boys, are just ignorant to Women’s bodies and their needs sexually as well as spiritually don’t matter as long as he get that nut. What amazes me is that when you challenge the sexual parts issue of the male penis and it also being the same area for the female in regards to sexual stimulation and for urination, the argument becomes moot once you open up to except that.

How does this apply to intellect in relation to sexy? A man who takes the time to relate, understand the woman's perspective, and attempts to meet her half way or the middle, will most likely have a better rapport sexually and become more attractive to her. Women know this and will be attracted to whoever possesses these qualities or whom she feels know. So Brothers, who just don't have sex one-sided, understand it and give up the whole body. It’s only as nasty as you want it to be and last I checked, sex was not nasty but a beautiful part of human relationships. At least that’s what my parents told me when we had the Sex Talk.

Conversation is another aspect of being sexy. If you can listen to a woman, you are golden. Now I'm not just saying you have to be attentive to every word that is said but you have to know when her words are important and when they aren't. That means you gotta ignore your “Boy’s” philosophy on women. My rule of thumb, "Unless you have written a book on the subject and made the best sellers list or married for at least 10 years or more, I don't pay it much mind." It’s strange that Brothers, who give the most advice on women, can't keep one more that 6 months.

When a woman wants to talk, she tells you. Directly ("Baby we talk?") or in-directly (Body Language). What can happen (and this comes with being honest) is tell or establish with your partner is that when there is a need to talk you can talk. Not debate or argue but relate and share. You can ask any question and get an honest answer without hesitation or emotional response. If you get a woman to that point, she'll do the same for you without establishing boundaries. You or her can not only start a conversation while in the middle of a board meeting or funeral but your quiet times at home or on a walk without being intrusive or inconsiderate. its all bout "hearing" and not "listening". When the person talks, the other person will hear beyond your words, they will hear your soul, your true intensions. Respond when asked to respond, and not give advice but direct issues toward a solution. Note, solutions sometimes take hours, days and weeks which is why communication and respect is a constant in relationships romantic and plutonic. This is the framework for friendship and the better you are at it, the more irresistible you become. Even to your friends. It’s the perfect balance of common sense of initiative.

Sexy is Body Language. It's in how you move, how you say things, how you look, even in the way you dress. This is not to be confused with grabbing your crouch, vulgar comments, or wearing revealing or tight clothing or your pants hanging off your ass. Nor is it having a perfect body, being nude or rumored to possessing the best piece of meat in the community. A man or woman covered walking down a street will attract the same kind of penis and vigina (Notice I didn't say man or woman but the physical representation of one) then if they were wearing little or nothing. The person’s whole attitude will generate a hormonal reaction as deep and fulfilling as a physical one. This is why you often hear that heavy people are sexy when they move and dance, men getting sexier with age, and the girl next door being the Playboy Pet of the Year over the local hoochie on the corner.

Lastly there is just being a Gentleman. I was told this was the standard of being a good man. Not conforming to the changes of society but doing the right thing as a man. Simply put, it’s the standard of being responsible for what one says and what one does. Committing to maleness and the principles of the male spirit.

I walked away from this a little wiser that I did going in. All the words that had floated around like “Dime Piece”, “On Point” and “Show Piece” were all designated to physical traits and character flaws of people. To be honest, to be referred in the physical is somewhat offensive when you think about it and women have known this for centuries. It’s almost like being called a “Dumb Blond”, ‘Thugnificant” or “White Trash”. Overall, if I had a choice to being called a “Dime” as oppose to Sexy, give me SEXY.

COMMON SENSE

Sweet.
Tart.
Vibrant.
It’s the state of my mind in the state of my world

I can’t keep at peace because somewhere
where some void in logic was beneath us
Common made Sense
And Sense made hast
and left.
Out and over there.
East and West
Leaving me in the middle where all eyes are suppose to see. (mind)

God use to talk to me
As clear as a Sunday sermon
But in Sense’s hast
Sunday sermons became Monday through Friday
Village voices
Trains, planes and automobile sounds
Information overload (hearing)
That became the organized noise of political ignorance
Static that kicked me down to the ground
Feeding upon sugar frosted spoonfuls of dirt and grim
Filling me into a diabetic delirium
So high
The pressure behind my eyes push folds that cover my eyes
That Common helped to secure. (sight)

But since Common defied Sense
Taking half my soul
Half my life
On knees with hands stretched out
blind.
Folded over,
that dark moving mist
touched the Earth softly like hot ice in summer.
Harden Black skin evolved to embrace the light
Until it felt warmth no more. (touch)

But this was no special effect

Hands begin to cover my wide and big nose,
Erasing another sense
Preventing me from smelling acid rain drenched shrubs and Bush
Tied down by blond headed girls calling my restraints their little Chainy
Held cold by that Nine Eleven winds that blew North uptown.
Three made two down to one. (smell)
The exact numbers of strikes without the proper tools to play hardball.
Sense.

In my blindness my mind’s eye work
And I know GOD, I am surrounded by Angels of servitude.
Angel’s without Will or Want
Because that was what they were created to do,
all they can ever do.
And with out Sense
Like GOD I can use them to answer, serve and deliver
Abuse and amuse those whom know they have no power
Those whom have no knowledge to control Angels.

And like that dark mist that moved
like the Nine Eleven winds
a modern tablet of commandments wrote across my mind
Hard and complete.

“Control what people think and control what people do.”

The beginning of a new Doctrine
ending with stone words

And Angels whispered to me,
“Age and Treachery will always out do Youth and Skill”.
Unto Man
Create minions
ending with stone words

and 1 stayed 1
deaf dumb and blind.
For living thus my crime.
Thus the state of my mind in the state of my world
I have become.

But I can still taste the
Sweet.
Tart.
Vibrant.
A balance.
A thought.
The life experience of Common plus Sense
And my Faith.

Common Sense by Shazza Nakim
Copyright © by Peace of Mind Publishings and with permission by Shazza Nakim

Body Searched

shot and stabbed in the back
execution style
strapped and handcuffed
rolled and locked within a house of illusion
i was told I had violated the limits of evolution.
for that I am punished.
born Black and Jewish,
female and gay
i contradicted and contrasted
the American Dream
when I decided to stay awake and act in my world
as it moved by.
like fruit and vegetables in the eyes of a hungry crowd
i was prepared for a succulent feast
in my night gown without a back
and told to bend over for tenderizing.
and at my juiciest
i was told to take off my clothes
to be photographed for future cook books
and quick recipes.

touched and pulled
my privates exposed,
violated,
contaminated,
and interjected by deep voices
pushing for answers
behind two-way mirrors and tinted glass doors,
bobbed wired fences and stone cold walls
i shed not one tear.
a virgin from the start
i spat on the spots on my body
to hide the shame
of imprisonment.
the charge,
evolving too fast
in a slow world
flat like yesterday
nowhere near circular.
they told me this
over and over
until it rang like church bells
on the day of the saints.

rotting from the inside out
i spoke sweet words to calm the stench
that stuck to my body like semen from unwanted sex.
the pain building in waves
at every turn
contorting my face with lines
that intersected with three distant points.
a point of freedom to hope to despair.
heart filled
joy lost within me,
i clutch my breasts
to slow the pumping of my blood
as it overflowed wine glasses toasted to a victory well met
and honored,
because all in all,
the day was not a waste
but a job well done.
for in the end
i now sleep
complacently and passively
waiting for the Sandman to come
to bring me that American Dream.

Body Searched by Shazza Nakim
Copyright © by Peace of Mind Publishings and with permission by Shazza Nakim

Why I Am Not Your Nigga

Why I am not your Nigga ....... What is interesting about the whole phenomenon of the usage of the word "Nigga" in dialogue is that as People of Color (specifically African-Americans, not excluding Americanized Caribbean and Africans) use the word and consider it as a "term of endearment". It’s meaning in the new millennium transformed into a word of love, respect and unity. Blacks not accepting to be referred to as Nigga is, in a growing movement, being considered 'Uppity' or not a part of the 'Accepted Community' or even as low as to be considered ‘Acting White’. Regardless of their reasons for not wanting to be addressed as such, Black people's validation for self-identity is negated by the numbers that feel the N word’s past association is over and its new association should now be embraced.

What is understood, regardless of one's intelligence or ignorance is that Whites, when speaking, say what they mean. Irrefutable, if Whites are naive and or in absolute understanding of their immediate environment, in the choice of their words, Whites are very exacting in their meaning. Whites socially either like or dislike you, it is expressed not only in action, but also in their choice of words. So when Whites use the word "Nigger" or "Nigga", it is understood by history that it is a word that was, is, and will forever be an American word used to epitomize the "disenfranchisement of Africa", the dismemberment of the infrastructure of Africa, the experiences of the Middle Passage, the barter and selling of African slaves on the auction block, slavery within the Americas, the erasure of Black identity, the fight for civil liberties in the Americas, lynchings, church fires, bombings, and the assassination of Black leaders just to name a few atrocities. So when People of Color use the word "Nigga" or "Nigger", we interject that which we want to use it for. A unifying sub-culture of disenfranchised peoples. There is an association difference when Whites use the word Nigger, and Blacks. When Whites use it, they want it for its historical connotation and social merits where as Blacks use the word for its social experience and inclusion. Last examined, Whites were never included in the attrucities of the Black American experience and yet they all were benefactors of it active or passive.

With the logic that social perception is a representation of social reality, Whites will interpret African-American’s use of the word Nigger (Nigga) as Black people on a people, not to be taken seriously for their philosophy of the Nigger usage isn’t genuine and an obvious double standard. This meaning that Blacks can refer to each other as Nigger (Nigga) but Whites can not. Whites then see this inconsistency as African-Americans not being able to say what we mean and as such should not be taken seriously which is the one thing African-Americans have fought for since the auction block. The communicating of this concept has now become part of the Black political, cultural, and social frustration for validity in solidifying existence in America. The African-American fight for injustice and double standards in society, in regards to the word Nigger (Nigga), is a self imposed social prison where the walls of cultural and historical respect is regulated to non-existence. Ultimately, Blacks place upon themselves the double standard of respect vs. disrespect in communicating ‘endearment’ through the word Nigger.

Contemporary leaders of the modern generation argue that “Nigger” is just a word. It has no power, no sting, nor a place in current social standards. Still others say that by embracing the word “Nigger”, it becomes transformed into something that people will understand as endearment and or social frustration. The reality is, the word and its history can not be re-invented because it makes some people feel good, or sell records and films, or it makes Black Men more masculine or loved. Peoples' support of the word "Nigger" such as Whoopie Goldberg, Michael Eric Dyson, Nelly, Isiah Thompson, Eddie Griffin, just to name a few would argue the later and feel that to embrace the New-Nigger is only to move away from the pain and into a future of true acceptance. But acceptance by whom? Closely examining the “N” word, it would seem that Blacks are the only culture that allows for the World to be comfortable to use Nigger as a social norm when referring to BLACKS as well as other non-Blacks.

The word "Nigger” is a word of historical and ethnic disrespect for more than 400 years or more. Anyone knowing basic World, American, or Black history can not refute that fact. It's a reality. It doesn't matter if you colorize it as "Jigga" or "Nikka" or "Nicca", it’s still the same disrespect that people were dying for to over-come in America’s dark past. It’s as obvious as the color of skin that labels it a Black word. A word not to do or re-define, but to keep from the lips from every individual that wants to use it as a label for anyone regardless of Color or Creed, National Origin and Religion as a catch phrase for cool. This thus becomes a cultural responsibility. A Black Legacy. Black Responsibility.

It simply amazes advocates against the usage of the word “Nigger” that African-Americans feel more disrespect when Americans resist to accept Dr. Martin Luther King Jr's Birthday as a National Holiday yet not acknowledge that millions of dollars in Rap, R&B, and Hip Hop music has entrenched the word "Nigga" as a label of Blackness on a Global level. Jay-Z, an award winning rapper and business-man, in an interview stated it surprised him that he had gone to Japan, where no one spoke English, yet knew all the words to his songs. As amazing as it was for him, it never occurred to him, that even though the people didn’t speak English, they did know how to say “Nigger” and the fact that he taught it to them. Jay-Z, a Black man, from America, whom had no history behind the words to his lyrics, is now seen as a messiah for new language and social teachings for a people no more attached to Black history and the African-American experience than Whites.

This responsibility isn't just an African-American issue alone. Jews, Asians, Indigenous People to the Americas and others share in the responsibility of keeping their harmful and hateful words from entering America's daily vernacular. African-Americans, unfortunately allowed “Nigger” to flourish and take root for all to see systematically, the levels of disrespect that has historically been fought against yet negated for each and ever individual Black person. Now African-Americans can only now react with apathy because the problem is now on a global level where all of Black culture is inundated with its effects. No other ethnic group allows this to happen to their communities accept African-Americans.

A word cannot be re-invented to give specific people its own special meaning. That defeats the whole concept of language and communication. Granted words do evolve such as the word “silly”. Once considered a word meaning holy, now it's closely referred to as immature or one without focus; childlike. This evolution did not take place within one or two generations but hundreds of years. Slang however does have the same lines of historical evolution as most language and far inbetween as a word of negative connotation been transformed unilateraly into a word of acceptence, love and or spiritual meaning. truth of the matter, the word,, how ever used in the American lexicon, “Nigger” isn’t slang, a fad nor a recent cultural phenomenon. Nigger is a word as significant to the English language as grammatical structure is important to comprehension. The "Us" feel better about ourselves notion does not and cannot work when using the “N” word because millions of Blacks have died because of the intent and meaning of it. Ultimately it’s a lie, a deception, and pure fantasy to think that Nigger can be used as a word of endearment. Even more so, if it is/was possible, we dismiss the very history, the very nature of who Blacks were, are and will evolve into being.

The word "Nigga" is not a European concept or an African word, nor is it an American word but it is a conception disrespect. Whites do not use or even try to re-invent vulgar words demeaning themselves as words of Power or Endearment. This can also be said for other ethnic groups. Why is this so? Because other ethnic groups recognize and respect words that exist to remove people of their power.

Recently, the word "Nigger" has become one great privilege some desire to use again without retribution since the 1960's. To legitimize calling someone Black a "Nigger" has been dancing the tightrope of vicious slang to proper English since its "artistic" non-constraints of the 60's until now. Today, by right, Nigger is a proper word with significant meaning. So now we are faced with Nigger (Nigga) and having the stigma of "intent" behind it duel or singular, bias or impartial how does one poll the true desire to speak the N-World as endearment? At its core Blacks have to intellectualize the definition and then psycho analyze the person saying "Nigger" (that is if you are Non-Black because if you are Black, you get a pass). By the way, did anyone ever poll the African, the Caribbean or the South American on his or her desire to be included in this fraternity of disrespect? Do African-Americans even care?

Being part of the English (a standard language spoke internationally) as a word recognized within the legal text of our American language, it isnow a free-for-all for whomever wants to direct it’s many meanings. Whites now have that right, at any time and any place, to have it freely flow from their lips and not hide behind the legal "shield of intent" backed by The Freedom of Speech thus bypassing any speculation of a Hate Crime. So until a court case is brought before the public where a corporate executive refers to one of its (Black) employees as a 'Nigga' and the case is dropped because the word is not considered offense by definition, then and only then will the real debate begin?

Why I Am Not Your Nigga by Shazza NakimCopyright © by Peace of Mind Publishings and with permission by Shazza Nakim

nig·ger - The term nigger is now probably the most offensive word in English. Its degree of offensiveness has increased markedly in recent years, although it has been used in a derogatory manner since at least the Revolutionary War. Definitions 1a, 1b, and 2 represent meanings that are deeply disparaging and are used when the speaker deliberately wishes to cause great offense. Definition 1a, however, is sometimes used among African-Americans in a neutral or familiar way. Definition 3 is not normally considered disparaging—as in “The Irish are the niggers of Europe” from Roddy Doyle's The Commitments—but the other uses are considered contemptuous and hostile.

–noun

1. Slang: Extremely Disparaging and Offensive.
a. black person.
b. a member of any dark-skinned people.

2. Slang: Extremely Disparaging and Offensive. a person of any race or origin regarded as contemptible, inferior, ignorant, etc.

3. A victim of prejudice similar to that suffered by blacks; a person who is economically, politically, or socially disenfranchised.