all so suddenly my great works have disappeared, I glance at my phones, zoning out for a moment from my literary greatness and poof, where did she go, my wit and general gaiety and joyful mumblings all for nothing, like smoke.

I had beeen sharing remarkable insights and so on and so forth and now am humbled and in my lowereed esteem feel less able to share,

breath

better, genius survives the most testing of trials.

but I will pause again for light refreshment, watering and such and such.

x

The BBC documentary called 'The boys who killed Stephen Lawrence' will now be shown on Wednesday 26 July at 21:00.

Its easing and I'm getting a grip,
understanding the hell you're in
and the success of the drip drip drip
but

...walking away from the actions and words of people who engender this sort of anger within me ..thats the norm....every day.

Here in Blogland I can become almost fascinated by the shreiking and outrage, and still more fascinated by the futility of my attempts to share the root of my anger.

Britain has a complex system of prisons filled with angry brown people and its not working as a measure to help keep people feeling safe, perhaps an ability to interface with anger may be the only way forward for a positive future?

Perhaps , as suggested by many people who responded to the blogs, the answer is for people who feel like me to 'bottle' it up?

Yet, if I'm reporting it isn't working for me, for my sister, for a number of this tiny minority

and I believe me I am well skilled in keeping tabs on my own controlled and
balanced behaviour - well what can I say, let us all
enjoy the beauty of the 'peace' we currently enjoy and hope that we will
not live in a time when it all descends into either chaos or
dictatorship.

I am soooo hoping D, you will not be offended by this, after I'd PM'd you I read through some of the harrowing ranting continueing on other blogs and thought, that I wanted to share here an edited version of what I wrote to you.........

I miss your wit again today in a way I have not missed for years. Sorrow becomes such a constant companion, that it hardly registers and then the tiniest tiniest glint in the wall of my emotional dam and bam, flood gates, and the waters of my memory are muddied with every incident again. Injustice, from the micro to the global, to the individual to the genocidal, each clamour for a voice within my consciousness and if I am not screaming, my tightening muscles are churning ulcers and quarrelling with my sciatic nerve.

I am glad of the silence
Glad of a rising tide that will sudside and diappear as quickly as it rose
Glad when my muse will wreke her havoc on my prose and gift
me back my lyric and my verse
bridel my champion and let looose the reins
to chase the undemanded task from off my shoulders
back to the leaching gloom,
oh gentle voices.
I have called for all alone,
reunited gently by the lady
to a lovers tome.
 

Blessed,
wrapped his arms around me
my bear hugging son
and I knew the passing of
a hundred sorries
a thousand how y'doings
and a million I love yous.
from me to you from you to me
and I felt in that hug and kiss
the bliss
of you, my blessing
moving, shifting gear
a phase is passing.

you are relaxing
into manhood,
sensing the power of your achievement
facing the change
anxiety lifting and
you can
wrap your arms around me
and say a big bear hug
I love you,
once again.

Sorrow
and I
am so sorry for a mother who has
missed this with her son
, waited for him as
the sea change from boy to man
had hardly begun

Naked
and I am saddened, weeping for
so much that now is lost
not only in
translation
but also in the cost, your heart and mine

fallen by the way
beside the other and the me.

I'm trembling between this joy
and your  sadness
the love and the hate
shaken by the lack of empathy
or understanding.

Still stark and
naked in debate.

and I heard your voice
dinakararao
in amongst
the sound of my own teeth gnashing
thankyou
for the moment it took to talk to me,
as a person who has the right to listen.

Blogland is a community, but this is NOT the community that spawned the lad , that what I've just read courtesy of " bloglikesit [Member] 2006-07-10 @ 17:07" and

I didn't wanna, I really didn't wanna,

but I hope I will never fail to cross the road to offer comfort or bear witness and that my fear will never outgrow my courage nor make my feet flee from conflict.

I've had more than enough

but I've got to refute this one.

Of course Blogland is the community who gave birth and nurtured and loved this child, ( I don't get 'spawned' , is that a positive way to talk about this young man? I thought only the devil or fish spawned, have I missed somehing?)

Ain't I and Flamey members of blogland? and if we feel this child is ours, doesn't that make him yours too, isn't that the magic of this place, this place without the barrier of time or place?

I live nearly 300 miles from where this child was shot, many of you will live around the corner. Like you I have never seen his smile, nor heard his laugh nor seen the dance in his sepia eyes. I never held him when he fell or congratulated him when he got good marks in school. I never cooked his dinner nor had him bring me up a cup of tea on a Sunday morning and neither have any of you.

But I love him. As I love the children and young people I have seen grow, the Alis, the Bens, the Lucys and the Fatimas, the Mikes and the Tatianas, the Millies , the Kwames, the Svens, the Ashoks, the Jesus, the Wannitahs and the Juanitas and this love has blessed me all my life and in the future our children will be brave and honest and selfless and true, but before that they will be very very angry.

there's a soreness tickling the back of my throat
the whisper of tears that did not burst
through the anger thats haunting my soul
and closing my eyes as I'm searching for peace

let it be

theres a harshness cricking my neck,
an adding to the ache of my swallow
theres a dryness in my eys where I'm
trying so hard not to crisis or let myself wallow.

let it be

my bodies absorbing it over and over again
like the sponge for humanities wrongs
I'm the daughter of an ancient world
and I'm missing,lost in action
and if you feel just a fraction

let it be

simple words slide passed and are gone
in a phuff of miscomprehension
evrything misread, though simply said
is't only my silence will ease your tension?

let it be

if I do not suffer my pain silently, if the effects of a racist world hurts just a little too much one day and I find myself hollering with grief, you do not have the right to tell me to be quiet and I will not stop because I am disturbing your peace.

and my sister writes

Thanks, sis for pasting my entry on your blog page. I've done my stint in blog land. I'm very shaken from the responses to what I wrote. A combination of anger, despair and shock at what those who responded and those who didn't. I guess my idealism and naivety got the better of me and i expected readers to connect with my message and respond with some empathy for the children. A dose of reality for sure. I see no point in challenging the likes of piney and fatalattraction. i firmly believe in the law of cause and effect. What goes around comes around: First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a communist; Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a socialist; Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out - because I was not a trade unionist; Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out - because I was not a Jew; Then they came for me - and there was no one left to speak out for me. (Niemoller) Paste this on blogland for their entertainment if you want. I';m sure it will inspire someone to make some witty, sarcastic comment at my/our/other's expense. xxxF.

An eye for an 'I'
by flamejoy @ 2006-06-30 - 23:07:23
A young boy called C, aged 12 sat on a wall near his home at about 4.30 this afternoon, chatting with friends of his age, sharing jokes etc from the week of school and goings-on in the local area. T goes off to do his homework, and M soon departs, he broke his arm last saturday and its still painful. The rest continue the banter, C feeling at ease, laughing, smiling. Just another friday after school. hanging out, still in uniform, watching the world pass by.

'Bam!' C all of a sudden collapses, his face covered in blood.
Within the hour he's undergoing surgery, trying to save his eye, his life, his future.
A 16 year old local boy is caught and arrested.

He walked up to C and shot him in the eye.

Another unprovoked act of violence on the streets of inner London. Don't hide behind the banter of street gangs, black-on-black violence, gun culture, drug culture, yardies etc. Stand naked in the ice cold facts. Two children met face to face. One shoots the other in the eye. It could have been any two children, on any street, in any city.

This happened today,

in South London,

by the side of a road busy with kids and parents still drifting home.

As you read this, sup your tea, much on your digestives etc. yet another mother, father, sisters, aunts, friends mothers of those friends who bore witness to this unprovoked act of violence, who know C and his beautiful dancing sepia eyes, all have had their lives shifted, violently shifted to another level.

In what way will they respond?

Whats your response?

Such acts surely demand a response.

We can all respond
in one way
or another

You may not feel able to respond

You may not feel response
ability

We are all able
to respond

We all have
response
ability

We all need to take responsibility

take action

and make some changes.

We are all connected.

We are all connected.

We are all connected.

We are all connected.

We are all connected.

We are all connected.

We are all connected.

I can't take away my story or yours
from the cyberlinked pages we weave

I cant give a hoot for the ignorant bliss
in the foolishness some people choose

I can't reach out and touch you
to slap or caress you,
I can't make you
or force you
nor love nor divorce you

you ignorant lurkers
thus left to devices,
and sheltered by liars
defended and consoled
deluded, desired
they're bankers, and polis, they're teachers, and landlords
investing their time in displaying and testing
endlessly

humanity divesting
yourself from your sisters and brothers
and leaving themselves in the barren
and blistered
smooth away the wrinkles and everything twinkles
you're decidely silly

silly and evil

theres a star in the corner
of the pc
at my work
made of
blue tac,
safety pins and my endeavour
and the star in the corner is winking at my
efforts as I
try to
understand the words that I am reading
and writing
making sense and sentences
from tenses and tension
reaching out and touching verses
feel the thought my
longing nurses

theres a man without his clothes on
on the flyer beneath my keyboard
and his muscles are defying me to work
I have curled the flex the phone has
and changed the ring tone
on my mobile
and I am hungry now I come to think of it.

I'm rather disconcerted by the lil lack of passion
by the simple and the easy way
distraction take my mind away from copulating rhyming couplets
or the two backed beast of coupling

a different coversation
on a very different track
showing I'm not knowing
what I lack

boom boom

so if twinkling be lovely and the chest be still
unhairy
not for years a bloody mary or a nose
I'll take the rose with thorns on
and the grassy knoll with horns on
and depart and fly again to reach the south before the summer

hey man
aint that a bummer?