Feminist Papers 2: Illumi-Not Them

Situation Report: Illumi-Not Them

Their handy-work goes by society, the elite—decision-makers; the real players—the payers, the beyond pay—the eternity seekers. They have been described as the crabs in a barrel pulling them back as if that were the same thing as helping them escape if they wanted such. Keeping them that way ensures they pose no threat to their own success and the legacy for their like. They square the root of evil for power so it neither falls on their watch nor advances without their thumbprint. They are often called haters, card-holders, king-makers and deck-stackers– to sway beliefs and preferences—unsatisfied, they seek to better calculate and predict them- to stay aligned with their comforts, traditions, and desires. They were there first; they were born first; they thought of it first; they were slighted first; their pain and story are more important—any justification works. Continue reading

Open Letter: Love Mekanism Preview Book

Daily Prompt: Open Letter

Dear Lovely Community,

As I have immersed myself into Part 2: Challenge to Finish a Project, I told you of dual projects (one mandatory) but I’m aware that I have written fewer letters these days as I have practiced writing for fiction characters. and other shorter poems, but I read a quote on a blog for writers that keeps returning to me, and I’ll post a link when I think of it or find it again- (or if you read it too, send me a link). It’s about how one should write the book you have- not the one you want. Have you ever seen something that you liked at the time but becomes LOUDER to you later. So loud that you’re nudged to feel that there’s something important to be learned from it? Well, that quote was like that to me… Here are chapter excerpts from the book I “have“. And it’s non-fiction so far. I hope you enjoy the preview. It’s about a question we have when we start or pick up enough pieces- how in the heck does one arrive where they are– so many factors that make a person who he or she is- our ethnocentrism (somewhere an Anthropologist is smiling). I noticed earlier that there are at least three regular posts in draft O_O and I said I wouldn’t do that! So Ya know what that means? to fix it 😀 I’m getting there haha! Thank you so much for following with me on this journey. Enjoy!

If you are also working on this Challenge, feel free to post your updates.

Click “More” to Preview the Excerpt

Love Mekanism Project: “Growing Up Super-Angel-Mother-Nature-Human

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Love Mekanism Project

“…but for me, it has become a respectful understanding of credit unduly assigned to limitations of my humanity, and the comparison is awfully pale… for shivering in the enormous cold shadow on the other side of love. Love as a profile of life and an attribute of one’s spirit- not a condition…” -Meka, Love Mekanism Project

Nerd Words: Literal Arts

Nerd World

That’s a post-secondary area of study, right? The study of trying to find a job with it -ology? Noooo. I literally don’t feel that way. Every egghead, non-prescription-spectacle-wearin’-geek-wanna-be-with-a-mouse, or nerd-stalkin’-senior-year-opportunist who has accidentally glanced at a ripped note BEFORE crushing it into enough saliva to make a “spitball” with enough density to propel it at the angle available using the perfect air pressure to reach the velocity required to adhere it to the classroom CEILING…. Knows:

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Poem 13: …and Be Very Specific

Who wakes to be a fool

But a distant lover to:

“I dreamt of you”- whose

Foolish heart becomes

Whole another day whether

She wishes it. In a whisper

“Talk slowly babe…and be very

Very specific”

Poem 12: Something. Look. Say.

Something

Freshly plastered imprints of fist-prints on a wall

A grown child grips her tattered book, while

Split lips mouth a prayer she memorized from it

Brown hair even looks just like her mother’s- perfect

For concealing a belt buckle cut- from neck

To shoulder, but she knows to cover her face

Unbeknownst they showed her long ago

“I was a bastard”. He says as he knelt;

Open hands toward her neck…clasped her

New gold crucifix; it’s just above her covered chest

Look.

Cold eyes warm as he hugs her– tells her he loves

Her. Through melted eyes, he looked just like…

When he took her hand to hold and adorned it

With gold from fingertips to her sliced wrists

As her sadness evaporates in a child- like bliss

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Screaming Loud in Deafening Silence

Fiction #2 by Meka

A fictional short story of love. A woman and her daughter locked in a battle of wills–struggling to be heard. Who will win?

Didn’t I tell you not to scream inside? Must I chide you for screaming inside. This is a place of peace and quiet, so respect it. No screaming inside!

Child, have you no pride? People can hear you screaming outside. What will they say? You’ll be a lady someday, and ladies don’t scream outside!

One of several versions of the painting

One of several versions of the painting “The Scream”. The National Gallery, Oslo, Norway. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Find your respect this moment young lady, or take cover. You can NEVER again scream at your mother. You should only obey and love her, it seems– but never ever ever scream!

…are all I wished to say, but the contortion of your face as it pressed out the weighty matters of selfish cookie-hoarding monsters or the taunting manner in which he’s “lookin’ at you” are not quite the same today, so I’ll wait.

You look more like me because “if you were you” you would have sought my guidance. I know you cannot see clearly because I saw your clarity streaming down your cheeks and to your dark painting

As I gently scraped stray streaks of blue paint from her yellow to look busy, she barely says hello anymore. I just tell her anyway what I think she needs to know- in case my baby is in there listening someplace.

“Control yourself…you’ll learn…have to pay attention…just one thing…and instincts…aware… image… grow and evolve….spirit… when you’re older…anticipate…in case of danger… think…yes you’re the same…. never forget… unexpected….but dust yourself off…distant memory, so remember…be..better…bigger… individual…yes, I’m aware..but true friends… pray…trust..don’t ask so many… no, snitching is..You are beautiful…smile!..only once….ever you want to be… melody…lovely painting”

Eye rolls, lip smacks, and occasional grunts are all I ever notice anymore, yet her silence is the most deafening like a barrage of discomforting nothingness followed by a hanging high-five as she disappears right in front of me. “If that’s all…” she says politely in a tone so perfect I would’ve dismissed it easily if I weren’t her mom.

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Commentary from Interact: May as Well Tell You Now: A Poem

Continued Commentary from Interact with Me: 2) I discuss the comments I picked about  Treyvon Martin

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  • I like by Jacquelyn’s comment a lot because it’s concise, to the point, and I could only hope to do that. She was actually responding specifically to one of the points that Dy made but specifically to him- acknowledging and validating his feelings. This part for some reason was reminiscent of criticisms of another race, and it made me understand how they must have felt because those things- crimes literally break my heart, and everyone is doing the best he or she can. Forget race, as a human being, mindful of what we know about psychology, teaching an infant who grow up a child to be kind and accommodating while everyone’s scared to death of him is quite the task: watching, following, condescending tones as if he can’t hear or perceive, sometimes failing to remember his age, consider that perhaps he’s sick, or any other human emotion. He must be perfect. Perfection is tossed out extra quickly when you look like an adult seemingly overnight– that’ll change your life. One day you’re Trey, and the next, you’re 6′ Mr. Martin. Ever ask a kid not to internalize or ask him to manage or control the emotions of around you? Oh he’d probably put his head down or put his hood up. Hiding– I can relate to that. Anyone could if they wanted to…
  • “Unfortunately, we have all been trained to not say these things in public especially on our FB pages because then we come off as always bringing up the “race card”. I don’t like gangs and senseless violence of ANY race.” – Jacquelyn Kuykendall (excerpt)

  • Dy’s passage is a stirring defense of the teen girl who testified on behalf of her friend Treyvon, in spite of the onslaught of painful racist and class-ist ridicule she endured in social media from all around. I didn’t know her before because I did not follow the trial, but after reading this, I am proud of her bravery because I know what it’s like to overcome a fear, and it is not easy for an adult. My quick little search  revealed what I would characterize as cyber-bullying. The gunman’s supporters attacked her deleted tweets to friends– not because she implicated guilt but for her perceived lack of education as judged by the articulation of her texts. This is important because as Dy says, English is not her first language, but most of us only know one language– broken, wrong, or not. She passionately calls on others to lift this young lady in support.  Dy discusses qualities that made this young lady  a target of ridicule within the racial community with passion- not ridicule but support, offer help, or say nothing about her .
  • This makes me appreciate being raised as a person and not as a color. Different types of people were always around- no mention because it didn’t matter. Every once in a while, I would encounter someone who didn’t know any better, but not often! In that sense, I knew who I wasn’t, and that “my place” was no different– not as a conscious thought, but just that it is. It’s easy to focus on what ya didn’t have, what  happened, or who I might’ve become if, but sometimes it’s good to be thankful for what didn’t happen and what I didn’t become. Because something you just don’t want to be.

Thank you for reading! We need some cheer honey!!

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May as Well Tell You Now: A Poem.

May as Well Tell You Now: A Poem

-Poem 8: Inspired by the family and those grieving Treyvon Martin

If I could ever shield you from darkness and injustice, I would shield you now

What was wrong with believing everything seen on tv about freedom, justice, and being

Wild-eyed innocence—like a child beaming at Santa…or the President- you can do anything!

Who could tell you? I know how they felt comforting me as a child who had seen the King beating on TV

A paroled construction worker and the violence that ensured, I would rather forget

But it happens too often, so I can’t- hoped against disappointment months ago sensing no good end

Maybe that’s the reason your broken heart now calls my pen…

Raindrops in your coffee; these words are bitter to taste but there’s a lot of truth

Dear loves, I wouldn’t waste my “me space” just to bullsh-t you

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About Poem 5 and Having Tables Turned

Photographers, artists, poets: show us DISCOMFORT.

Poem 5: Tremble, Monologue, Bass

Is about how I felt preparing for my first time posting a video image of myself online for the challenge: Act Out “What’s Clearly Bothering Me” Monologue for a prompt called Tables Turned.

Daily Prompt: Tables Turned. Are as comfortable in front of a camera as behind one?

No— not even close. I’m an admirer and observer, so being behind the camera is fun! On the contrary, I hate holding a smile. For the longest, I didn’t “get” taking photos as I love moments too much to waste. Now I do, but not for me…. the munchkins and loved ones I can’t see as much as I’d like, they adore them, so I go ahead and get them outta the way and get on with it. I take a photo ahead of events for the purposes of damage-control… because the most awkward ones seem circulate fast and wide. Couple times I thought I was lookin’ like a delectable caramel pie all around–ready to be tagged, but nope-just pi! 😉

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