People that know me..know I try to live life as simple as possible. I try to not stress and let others change the way I live my life. I’ve learn that life is so short and only you are responsible for your happiness. So, I learn to keep it simple. I avoid negative people and situations. I learn that I am not in control of my life and allow God to guide me in the direction where I need to be. I may have all that I WANT. But, I know I have what I NEED.
Today’s guest blogger is someone that is very special to me. She makes the best kool aid and chocolate chip cookies in the world. Also, Byranna is one talented young lady. When I first read this poem I was blown away by the content. As adults we seem to forget what some many young women are going through in their lives. Thanks Brye Brye for the great poem and for the record…I only love you when you bake me cookies. ~ Uncle K
Big Bad Wolf
Not long ago..
In a land where problems don’t exist and everything is a musical number
They called me..
He followed me through the woods of the hood
Merely because he craved for goodies
Just wanted to dip his tongue in the milk and cookies
And he watched me walk to grandma’s house
Now who’s really afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?
He walks down the street and it makes mothers grab the hands of their adult daughters
Not supposed to be near school because the risk of someone’s innocence he could slaughter
Completely perverted, he stared at the behinds young ones
Just a little something to give him some unsatisfactory satisfaction
Every two minutes one Lil Red is assaulted
When he talked to me I panicked
My heart stopped
Shook in my boots
Became hysterical and tried to run
But he grabbed my arm and said
“Hey…can I talk to you for a minute? Where you goin?”
Words and letters had difficulty going from my head to my mouth
And began to shout out
“I’m goin to my sick grandma’s house”
He already knew my route.
44% of the Big Bad Wolf’s victims are under the age of 18
15% are under the age of 12
The Big Bad Wolf walked behind me waiting to pounce
Lured me into bush behind some house and I went
He opened his arms and held me down
How could I be so naïve?
And I bled red
Bruises purple from struggle
His eyes green
I could feel my heart beat right through the tips of my toes and fingers
I felt like I was about to explode
And I screamed but no one could hear me
93% know exactly
who the Big Bad Wolf is
Where’s my knight and shining armor
Where’s freaking fairy godmother
My genie in a bottle?!
Where the hell are they?
Well the only I’m sure they’re not
My legs were still wide open from the penetration
But his train had already left my destination
He was gone
And it hurt to walk when I got up…
I bled red
My bruises purple
The sky blue
My purity black
His conscience clean
All the way to Grandma’s house
Now you tell me…
Who’s really afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?
My friend Roy Parks AKA “My Ninja” told me I needed to check this video out today. This is a very powerful poem. Big ups to Poet Karness for writing & performing a great piece.
Today, I know so many women who are pissed about Valentine’s Day. It will be over soon. So, then you can focus on why nobody loves you for the rest of the year.
Today’s Guest Blooger is Samantha Ivee. I’ve known Sam for a couple of months now. She has a great future ahead of her. I know she will have a major impact on people lives. Enjoy. ~ K
Black Vs. African American
My mother was born and raised in Chicago IL the south side to be specific, my grandmother born in Mississippi, so I ask you how that makes me African American.
A few weeks ago I was leaving my school campus racing to the brown line in hopes to make it on time for dinner with a close friend of mine. Sweat dripping from my brow I leap for the train. My heart attempts to catch up, as I plop down in the seat. A young woman who appeared to be of Middle Eastern decent behind me, taps my shoulder. I slowly turn around and look at her in curiosity.
“I’m from Egypt I just moved here, and I want to know what products you use to put in your hair” she asks.
“Eco Styler Gel” I respond with a smile.
“Are you biracial” she asks confused.
“No both my parents are Black,” I say.
“You shouldn’t call yourself Black, your African American” she said angrily.
I have never been a person who has referred to myself as African American because I feel the correct definition of an African American is a person who was born in the continent of Africa and moved to America, those people should be called African American in my opinion. My grandmother was from this country and my mother as well, as much as I hate to say it I am just a plain American born and raised. My skin color is Black and that is how I choose to describe myself.
Just in time for Valentine’s Day. Please support my latest project. I am selling my “One Night Stand Kit” to give women after a night of hot monkey love making. The kit includes a prepaid bus or train pass, a toothbrush, and a Pop Tart. As an extra bonus i am throwing in ‘The Morning After Pill’ for free. All for the low price of $14.99. Hit up Keith-Harris.com for details.