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I'm just a poor piece of cloth cut from my mistresses frock and
with a pattern that's seen better days, but Harriot Powers saw me, and said you look special to me.
She was born to a slave in a bygone age when injustice and servitude ruled.
One thing helped her stand tall and helped save her soul and that was her god given faith.
To show her respect she began to sew and to stitch, so as to tell her gods tale
Four quilts told the tale how god will prevail and goodness and truth win the day.
Who would have thought that making a quilt to keep warm, would make her famous today.
As one quilt now hangs with pride on the wall of a very famous hall for the people to see .
Harriott long ago passed by, but now uses her needle and thread with the angels instead
and Its heard often said that Gabriel himself uses one of her quilts on his bed .
Value only 4 quilts in the world one missing this one $1.000.000 to you
TRUE STORY LOL
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harriet_Powers#Work
comp entry 24022015
.
There’s an urgent
Need To collar
A Device. Humans
In politics In boardrooms
A Wearable Necktie
With Microchip
To sense lies
and beep
Is easy
doable.
Dress code
New Formal
A lie detector
It shall Sense
Nerve signals
& temperature
Breath pattern
Physiology etc.
Any aberration
Slightest twitch
Instrument will
Flash and Beep
No Deception In
The New Formal
This we just need
Serious not funny
Make it mandatory
For Accountability
At the highest level
Politics- Commerce
A fool- proof device
Is a billion collar plan
Shall Save The World
From Men in Authority
From Corrupt Humans’
Lies and Deception
A Mandatory
Wear
In New Normal
Hey, brother what’s goin on, like man wha’t happin, it’s what it is man;
Nothin, much Joe. Man it’s the world today man;
It’s what not happenin in this cruel cold cut world man…
What is it, what it is the problems of the peoples today;
It it to much talkin (it’s to much talkin) and not enough walkin;
But there is one man who knows where it’s at;
One man, brother now lay down your guns, your hat;
Talkin bout’ Ahunda,
Talkin bout’ Ahunda,
Talkin bout’ Ahunda;
This man over there with his gray flannel suit;
He’s over there with hiz mouth talkN trash laughN jivin thinkN he’s real cute;
And take that sister over there, yeah man I mean yea she’s cute and fine;
But she’s always wastin up some brothers money and talkin nothN all the time
Little dark beloved African Love Child
Talkin bout, talkin bout you know what
Ahunda
Talkin bout’ Ahunda,
Talkin bout’ Ahunda,
Talkin bout’ Ahunda;
But hey, Bobby take that dude standing around;
While everybody’s talkin bout Ahunda he’s just doesn’t hear a sound;
Bad action, shy talkin dark handsome man;
He’s got a better plan Peace and save the Land…
He’s the cutest of them all and he’s very, very tall;
Talkin bout Ahunda;
Now run tell that he knows where it’s at;
Born in America his mama was an African;
Talkin bout Ahunda, talkin bout Ahunda;
Talkin bout Ahunda, talkin bout Ahunda;
Talkin bout Ahunda;
Soon to be a Chieftain of his native tribe when he becomes a man
Talkin bout, talkin bout Ahunda
Say now brothers watch this cat’s sure is clean;
Talkin bout Ahunda;
He walks like talks like an inhuman cat;
He’s the badest Mother I’ve ever seen;
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©1971, 2019
12/27/71
Am I just supposed to forget
Or act as if I were only dreaming
That I somehow managed to imagine
This love that I'm feeling
Can you explain how it happened
Tell me every small detail
Do you want me to believe
It was all some fairy tale
The "once upon a time" girl
Has grown up quite a bit these days
And our "happily ever after"
Feels like we've parted ways
I know that I'm no princess
Except when you hold me near
Chasing away all my nightmares
My Prince, the monsters fear
Coming in to save the day
All with true love's kiss
But now you've gone far away
And I feel something's amiss
Cuz when we met
With love's first sight
And gave in to magic's destiny
Knowing every step felt right
Has my curse been lifted
Setting me free from despair
Has the spell been broken
Returning Glass Slippers to air
The Wicked World has enslaved us
Banishing all beauty and light
Yet the sweet, brief dance under glow of the moon
Will no doubt haunt my every long night
If that be the dream, please I beg let me sleep
For the nightmare upon waking, I weep
I'd rather live the fantasy dream
With your love as my cover
Than walk the reality of darkness
Without you forever
I received it in the mail…a card addressed to me!
I’m to meet some people for a luncheon…and this luncheon will be free!
The food pictures that grace the front of the card are, of course, a masquerade
for directly under these is this question:
Confused about hearing aids?
The luncheon might be free…but it’s hearing aids they’re trying to sell
They are assuming since I’m older now…that I don’t hear as well.
My hearing is just fine, thank you (I’m pretty sure my family agrees)
but I’ve noticed once I reached 65…I get a lot of these.
Emails, cards and letters asking me if I need things…
like an alert system in case I fall…
Am I getting the most from my Medicare?
Do I need to lower my cholesterol?
How is my sex life? Am I depressed? Am I too skinny, too bald, too fat?
not to worry if my correspondences are correct…there’s someone to help with that.
They’re concerned if I am healthy, depressed, their concerned about my heart…
apparently they think, at my age, everything’s falling all apart
I even receive messages asking if I’ve made my funeral arrangements…
or do I need to save
I guess they figure I’m further from the cradle and closer to the grave.
Now I’ve been blessed with good health and a wonderful life…each day is a happy day
So when I get these emails, cards and letters I usually delete them or throw them away…
But lately I’ve been thinking…some of these luncheons I might attend
some of these people I might have to meet….
After all, I am on a fixed income…
and even old and healthy people have to eat.
we bob in high seas
of discontent
like Melville's atonement voyage
we ask ourselves if waves we breach
can ever be tamed in time
for women like you and men like me, Ahab and Ishmael are we
is there time to save this world?
the ending we know is clear
we've seen it all before you sailed
man's greed has turned to fear
there's one last chance we dare to take
before the end is near
cast myopic spectacles
from hedonistic face...... join in the last
true worthy cruise
to
save
the
human
race
-from the perspective of an Israelite slave during the Exodus from Egypt-
Tell me; what could freedom be?
Soon I’ll know, for soon I’ll see
Tell me; what could freedom mean?
It’s a thing I’ve never seen
Once my fathers were free
Long ago, as for me
I remember the word
That the ancestors heard
We’d be lost, be enslaved
Then Yah said we’d be saved
We’d return to that land
And that promise will stand
Tell me; what does freedom mean?
Does it mean I serve a King
Who is gracious and just–
Who’s a King I can trust?
Would the whips and the wrong
That I’ve known all along
Somehow leave, somehow cease
Would I somehow know peace?
Does it mean I have food?
Does it mean I have drink?
Does it mean no more work
In the mud where I sink?
Tell me; what could freedom be?
Does it mean You answer me?
That Yehovah, King of all
Came to save us–heard our call?
Does it mean Yah would take
Us and battle to make
Us His people to bless
And to rule and possess?
Does it mean He would give
Us a land where we’ll live?
In that land shall we see
What it means to be free?
Does it mean that You know
What we do, where we go?
And if so, is it true
That You notice me too?
Can I dare to suppose
That if us, Yah, you chose
And we’re precious to You
Maybe I’m precious too?
Tell me; what could freedom be?
Does it mean You care for me?
I was twelve years old, on my way to school
We had winter blizzard conditions but of course in those days no cancellation existed;
I was at a cross walk. I slipped on a patch of black ice and slid under the wheels of a big truck. The light changed to green and I heard the
rumble of the engine readying to move forward. In a state of panic I didn't know what to do until I heard a voice,
"Quick, roll over " it whispered in my ear and jolted me to action.
I rolled over just in time as the truck moved forward. I felt the contact of the rubber tire brush my arm. I got up, brushed my winter coat off and went inside the school. I was in shock but didn't know it. I had come so close to
dying that day.
Until this day I wonder who that Angel was that saved my life when I was twelve.
I never doubted the ability of Divine Intervention to change a life or save it.
Not a day goes by that I don't thank my Angels for all the guidance they gave
me in this lifetime.
(True Story, Happened in in 1971 )
January 2, 2021
Among the lessons I have learned,
At the edge of blacktop,
Near bridges, some burned
I see the hesitant whisper of life
Warm hearts, so concerned
Knowing the pavement will end
One day soon, my soul will be returned
Returned to the Master, the One
Whose still writing my story
He’s the light, God’s only Son
Writing with ink from His own blood
He fought the devil without a gun
Whispered hope to the hurting
I hope to hear Him say, “Well done”
Well done, the words I long to hear
When I leave this troubled world
Reach my home where love is so sincere
Touch the hands who saved me
From the darkness and all my fear
Battled the sins that pursued
With love that will never disappear
Disappear from the heart who believes
His love is a rock, foundation of the free
He’s still writing, with blood that relieves
My heart and soul, saving me from me
Destroying the shadow who grieves
Inspiring my story to sing of God’s peace
He is the One who can save even thieves
Thieves hung on either side of Him
As He warred on the cross, my Savior
It looked so much like He’d lost, all was grim
Until that third day at the tomb
When He arose to prove, when it’s sink or swim
We have One who works wonders within
Within my heart, where I sometimes see
There is the promise from One I believe
He’s writing my story – He’s set me free
So I know, when those potholes come about
In the pavement of my soul, I bow my knee
And reach out to the hand that bore the nails
So that I might know Him who holds the key
Key to being better than I was, because I believe
In the One who writes my story,
with ink of pure blood, His gift I’ll receive
One who tells of glory, on streets paved in gold
Where the pavement, my soul will relieve
Because I’ve met the One who chose me
To walk the streets of gold, where I’ll never grieve
Pondering the pavement – gold as gold can be
Walking on that trail more beautiful than any dream
It is here in heaven, that I see
The wonders of everlasting, the song of belief
And I’ll never forget what He did for me
Its written on the pavement, each step breathed
My spirit on fire, for Him who set me free
The memory span of the average sprout
Means he forgets why the light is out
If life in a fridge will be life without end
Never forget that the dark is your friend
*
And hidden away in a refrigerator
A brave little sprout needs no invigilator
He’d tucked himself between some beans and a leek
And went undiscovered throughout Christmas week
But now that the trifle and cheeses aren’t there
The fridge is beginning to feel rather bare
The spaces within have become wide agape
With few nooks and crannies in which to escape
He’s watched as his friends were all taken and eaten
But this little sprout was too brave to be beaten
He may be just one single sprout, small and green
But he can be ruthless and ever so mean
He knew that the sound of the footsteps nearby
Meant somebody sharing his fridge could soon die
But he’ll stop at nothing for self preservation
He pushed the leek forward without hesitation
It’s dark in the fridge which should aid his concealment
And save him the sight of leftovers congealment
He thought he’d be safe in the darkness inside…
But screamed like a bean when the door opened wide!