Tuesday 20 November 2012

Telephone


Ever felt like talking to someone and they were just not there to hang out with you or pick up the phone or simply too busy to be bothered really? If you were desperate, you probably left countless voicemail messages and later, much later you probably wished u had not left so many. Like I once heard someone say, if they don’t pick it up the first, second and third time they probably can’t or don’t want to so just stop already. I suppose in a way the traditional telephones before cell phones were much gentler on the soul in that if not picked you could easily comfort yourself by assuming there was no one available to pick it up. Now with your number flashing on the screen, call barring, call diverting you just never know what it could be.Ha!

 Anyway, all these telephone thoughts got me thinking how grateful i am for the gift of prayer and how easy it is to pray at any time, any place. I am glad i don’t have to wait to be called back or leave a voicemail message just because at that point God is not available. In my opinion if anyone should be too busy to take a moment to listen then it should be God , what with all the people of the world to listen to, birds to feed, wars to be stopped and a whole lot more,  yet he is the ever accessible to us or at least those of us who choose to get in touch with him. So next time before you frantically search for your friend on chat, text or call to share a problem, vent a frustration or share a joy just remember to send a prayer first. Telephone God. For too often we run to people that really can’t help us except by listening and sometimes make us regret even telling them whatever news we had in the first place whilst on the other hand God always has a plan, a good plan for your life.


Sunday 18 November 2012

Somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff


Ntozake Shange wrote this poem, it spoke to me in a lot of ways and i thought i would share with y'all,dont let anybody walk away with your stuff.
somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff 
not my poems or a dance i gave up in the street
 but somebody almost walked off wid alla my stuff
like a kleptomaniac workin hard & forgettin while stealin
 this is mine/this aint yr stuff/
now why don’t you put me back & let me hang out in my own self
somebody almost walked off wit alla my stuff 
& didn’t care enuf to send a note home sayin 
i was late for my solo conversation
 or two sizes to small for my own tacky skirts
what can anybody do wit somethin of no value on
a open market/ did you getta dime for my things/
hey man/ where are you goin wid alla my stuff/
to ohh & ahh abt/ daddy/ i gotta mainline number 
from my own shit/ now wontcha put me back/ & let
 me play this duet/ wit silver ring in my nose/
honest to god/
somebody almost run off wit alla my stuff/ 
& i didnt bring anythin but the kick & sway of it 
the perfect ass for my man & none of it is theirs 
this is mine/ ntozake ‘her own things’/ that’s my name
 now give me my stuff/ i see ya hidin my laugh/ & how i
s it wif my legs open sometimes/ to give me 
some sunlight/ & there goes my love my toes my chewed 
up finger nails/ niggah/ wif the curls in yr hair/
mr. louisiana hot link/
i want my stuff back/
my rhytums & my voice/ open my mouth/ & let me talk ya 
outta/ throwin my shit in the sewar/ this is some delicate 
leg & whimsical kiss/ i gotta have to give to my choice/
without you runnin off wit alla my shit/
now you cant have me less i give me away/ & i waz
doin all that/ til ya run off on a good thing/
who is this you left me wit/ some simple bitch 
widda bad attitude/ i wants my things/
i want my arm wit the hot iron scar/ & my leg wit the
 flea bite/ i want my calloused feet & quik language back
in my mouth/ fried plantains/ pineapple pear juice/ 
sun-ra & joseph & jules/ i want my own things/ how i lived them/
& give me my memories/ how i waz when i waz there/
you cant have them or do nothin wit them/
stealin my shit from me/ dont make it yrs/ makes it stolen/
somebody almost run off wit alla my stuff/ & i waz standin
 there/ lookin at myself/ the whole time 
& it waznt a spirit took my stuff/ waz a man whose 
ego walked round like Rodan’s shadow/ waz a man faster
n my innocence/
waz a lover/ i made too much 
room for/ almost run off wit alla my stuff/
& i didnt know i’d give it up so quik/ & the one runnin wit it/
don’t know he got it/ & i’m shoutin this is mine/ & he dont 
know he got it/ my stuff is the anonymous ripped off treasure
 of the year/
did you know somebody almost got away wit me/
me in a plastic bag under their arm/ me 
danglin on a string of personal carelessness/ i’m spattered wit
 mud & city rain/ & no i didnt get a chance to take a douche/
hey man/ this is not your perogative/ i gotta have me in my
 pocket/ to get round like a good woman shd/ & make the poem
in the pot or the chicken in the dance/
what i got to do/
i gotta get my stuff to do it to/
why dont ya find yr own things/ & leave this package 
of me for my destiny/ what ya got to get from me/
i’ll give it to ya/ yeh/ i’ll give it to ya/
round 5:00 in the winter/ when the sky is blue-red/
& Dew City is gettin pressed/ if it’s really my stuff/
ya gotta give it to me/ if ya really want it/ i’m 
the only one/ can handle it
-ntozake shange. “For coloured girls who have considered suicide when the rainbow is enuf”