ORI-- An Epic Poem Series (Part 3)

ORI

AN EPIC POEM

(Part 3)

The smoothest of sailing… Wave movements so precise within its own cadence, yet remarkably fluid in its delivery and intricate care, of the papyrus vessel of pure gold; transporting our shero, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress. The newness of the voyage to the Ancestral Realm, began to slacken in our shero’s slim body frame. She laid down comfortably and securely inside, as the steady and ever softening of her own heart cadence, rhythmically romanced rigorous reminders of resonance.

The interior of the vessel in which our shero lay, was also made of the purest gold that had been  spun into a fluffy mass, with a cotton ball like feel… Cumulus like clouds so bright in there lustrous being, that they reflected everything perfectly, without error, within its vision—Our shero in awe of such a comfort. The softness of the fibers had an arid healing balm, that oozed from them, and warmed at every stress point in our shero’s war torn body.

A border of the choicest flattened rubies lined the inside perimeter of the vessel… Smooth as fine glass, and densely concentrated. Engraved with glittery pure gold markings, that would have been foreign to Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress, before her eyes had been opened; natural and all seeing— Now deciphered and read easily. Every chiseled marking and word coming from various dispensations of time and calculations of time and modes of time… Time as calculated on Poisoned Mother is illusion, for it is but one of the many wheels that move us all.

Our shero was absolutely mesmerized by the most correct, and extensive history of all of her nuanced people: the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR… Double dipped in the holiness of Blackness. Our shero was filling with power as her gaze shifted to each intricate detail. Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress, being in this illuminated state, was able to fully to take in and grasp the vast his and her stories of: The Direct Reflections of the CREATOR, the Spiritual Beings of all sorts of renderings and reasons, THE ALL THAT IS, and the entire omniverse conjointly. Yes, it was all being downloaded back into her ancient soul, with her mind and heart readily able to understand. As our shero continued to lay and heal comfortably; reading the interior ruby panels of the papyrus vessel of pure gold, that were, unbeknownst to her, prepping her heart for her meeting with the  Ever Evolving Ancestors… It was then that our shero  learned that the papyrus vessel of pure gold had a name: Sh’mella… And she paused—Time is changing as the voyage continues.

In an intimate recall spark, and wanting to taste the words moving across her tongue; our shero said the name of the papyrus vessel of pure gold aloud, with an intense winding willing and wanting whisper… “Sh’mella!”—As soon as she had uttered its name, the vessel began to spin in rapid, course turbulence… Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress wondered if she had broke the gorgeous vessel that the Illustrious Nurturer and Valiant keeper had been so good to loan her. Our shero immediately began to reach for the panic and fear that were floating above her head in gelatinous form… To no avail, she grasped it not. Sh’mella began to slow down, and grow into an even more marvelous version of itself, with a full mast, and otherworldly intricate and precise designs. A command center deck with technology light years and light years more advanced than anything ever seen on Poisoned Mother, sprang up in our shero’s midst… She was awestruck, and being the curious type that the Ever Evolving Ancestors had always guided her to be; Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress reached out her hand to touch the console. Before her flesh could meet this esoteric structure, the structure spoke to her in a calming and metered non-robotic articulation.

Sh’mella:

 Hail, Hail Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress! I am the command center of Sh’mella, and anytime you say my name, I can assist you, or get you anything you need. Also, I can show you any place in the omniverse as we travel, help you communicate and receive communication, and above all I will protect you… I will always protect you. I am but a servant, and cannot make you do anything you do not want to, unless given orders by THE ALL THAT IS, Illustrious Nurturer, or Valiant keeper… I was constructed as a special gift and aid by THE ALL THAT IS for the Illustrious Nurturer and Valiant keeper’s work throughout realms… Their orders are the only ones that trump yours. I do have certain things programmed by them concerning you in my database… I am well acquainted, and I feel great love for you— You will always be taken great care of during our time together… Unlike limited technology on Poisoned Mother, I can feel, I can emote… I have depth. Dear one, I am to remind you to remember every warning you were given… Very soon we will be ascending higher, into the upper sweet waters, and exit your ocean of warm tears of healing that accumulated fast and vigorous, slow and concentrated— You will begin to see spiritual beings you have never encountered before… Remember, do not look them in the eye, do not make conversation. Only speak to the gatekeepers and give them your fare. I will re-simplify myself now, if ever you need me, just say my name.

Upon hearing the words of Sh’mella, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress felt the sun in her heart rise to midday, and she looked around herself for the first time since the voyage began… She was sitting up right, taking in all of the beauty of the multi-spectrum’s myriad of colors, that was so truthfully painted upon the surface of every tear drop, made ocean. She wanted to impress this image, this visual in her very being, as she would soon be leaving these waters for the upper sweet ones.

As our shero continued on, Sh’mella brought forth a golden tray encrusted with multitudinous precious and rare gems, found throughout the omniverse. On this tray was a splendid spread of the finest and most pleasantly palatable pastries… Fruits so sweet, and perfect… And a warm tea, that becomes hot in the belly; made with the leaves of the Most Sacred Tree… The fruit of that tree would be too potent for anyone still attached to their flesh.

Delighted by this array, and thankful for the provision, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress began to instinctively and hurriedly dig in. Each bite intoxicated her with a fullness that permanently fixed some of the pot holes in her heart… Her tongue sang to her a song of thanksgiving, because of the delicious, all encompassing flavors that were stirring her soul and demanding melodic harmonies in return; a taste of a longing.  Our shero thanked Sh’mella, and the vessel remained quiet… No response… She thought it odd, but she was delightfully distracted by the high she was climbing… It took her higher and higher and higher…

And When Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress was full to capacity, she fell asleep, which is normal for any of the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR… But this sleep was deep, and purposely done to her… Every illuminated part of her being was put into a deep, deep slumber by the warm tea that becomes hot in the belly… For her protection, and because of the sensitivity of her state. This was one of the instructions Sh’mella had been programmed to perform concerning her, of which she would not be allowed to be privy to beforehand. It was imperative that our shero not waste her elevation, by attempting to grab the part of fear that doesn’t benefit; it would bring her down if she by chance were able to grasp the gelatinous form it takes and taunts, above her illuminated head. If she knew that the source of the tea that she was drinking, was from the Most Sacred Tree, or that the pastries and fruits were rolled by the hands of the ALL THAT IS personally— It was important that she  not be tempted to reach for any of her lower nature, while her entire being was in preparation for transcendence into the upper sweet waters.

Once Sh’mella realized that our shero was under the deep sleep needed for this transition, command center popped back up, and on its screen, a map of the coordinates to the Ancestral Realm came into full view. An invisible shield covered the sides and tops of the vessel, and a comfortable belt of protection looped itself around our shero, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress, as she lay peaceful and snoring. Sh’mella had a virtual hand made of the moons beams at high tide… Reaching over to place a blanket over our shero, and touching the bridge of her nose so that she could breathe without struggle.

Upon securing itself, Sh’mella began to radio in all the guardians of the north, south, east, and west in languages and tongues, not known to the inhabitants of Poisoned Mother. Every guardian responded swiftly; giving their approvals and instructions, and before you know it… Sh’mella, carrying our beloved shero, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress, was traveling faster than the sound of light… Breaking our shero from her ocean; warm tears of healing that accumulated fast and vigorous, slow and concentrated… Making way into the sweet and upper waters, full of complexity and splendor.

To be continued…

^{In Unashamed Négritude & Revolutionary Love,}

^ORIT

COPYRIGHT ©  ORIT 2016

All Rights Reserved

www.oritvibes.com

ORI-- An Epic Poem Series (Part 2)

ORI

AN EPIC POEM

(Part 2)

Shifting shadows of mind-altering colors, that can only be seen in the in-between… The state of being fully awake. Pigments so high vibing in and of themselves, that they enslumber and quiet the mortal nature, to the immortal realities steady; simultaneously rousing the innate Divine within. Our shero Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress is being illuminated in the midst of this delicate tango, and her eyes, both natural and all seeing; open and she conceptualizes, that she has never had vision as true; before this very moment.

Marveling at the change in the air she inhales, there is no pain, there is no fear; Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress feels no sadness, she feels nothing but she remembers… She remembers all of what she was just moments ago, when time could still be measured, yet she doesn’t feel anything tying her to its painful clutch—She realizes that she is experiencing all encompassing freedom for the very first time; memories of perpetuity, of “the previous” were being updated and restored back into their rightful place in her soul… All of this done in a twinkling of an eye… Time real, no longer an illusion… Such a powerful and transforming energy force; no need resides within to try to mark its course… All things circular.

Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress remembered the male member of the Caucasus People of Dangerously Low Frequency, and what he had just done to her. Our shero felt extremely odd reaching for her anger, which was floating around her like a gelatinous bubble. Every sweeping hand motion she made to grasp it, whilst still lying on her side, DNA oozing from her head… She kept trying to grab it and other emotions floating about her, but they kept slipping out of her hands… Each and every one that served her lower nature were inaccessible—The illumination now around her prevented their convergence.

Each and every emotion and feeling that would produce fruit that multiply; they were still one with her… She still had anger, but the unhelpful spectrum of it was gone. She still possessed sadness, but the destructive end of it was separated from her… She didn’t realize it at that moment, but she was sensing a high vibing frequency that she had never before experienced…. All things were new.

Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress began to sit up; getting up off of her left side… The side on which she fell, when she was assaulted in the head with that baseball size rock. As she came to her feet, the blood that oozed from her noble brow evaporated, and again, she felt no pain. Before being able to find stability in coming unto herself, or even having time to question all that was transpiring about her… Our shero felt a tap on her right shoulder. 

This impassioned syncopated touch, in slow and steady succession sent an electromagnetic wave throughout her form… Her vision cleared and sharpened all the more. Right away, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress realized she was in an otherworldly in-between state…She had not left her form, yet her form… Her shell… Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress soul was still in covenant with those parts of Poisoned Mother, that she herself embodied. Our shero was now experiencing Poisoned Mother in the perfected state that she once was in, before the alliance of tyranny and the contemptuous and putridly rancid aroma of hatred and greed, began to defile and deform her ethereal allure.

Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress had not yet turned around or acknowledged who or what was tapping in impassioned syncopated touch, slow and steady succession, on the staunch bridge of her right shoulder. She felt fear of the higher nature kind: reverence… It began to consume her to humility. The presence of THE ALL THAT IS was radiating throughout her body… She just had this understanding organically, alerting her that whoever was behind her; they were panoptic and whole. Our shero saw the gelatinous bubbles of unbalanced fear floating about her, and she tried, to no avail, to grab at them because they were familiar to her— She did not know how to respond to these heightened events. If our shero turned around, would THE ALL THAT IS be who she would see? As all of these thoughts began to consume Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress, the Valiant Keeper turned her around to him and embraced our shero tightly and lovingly:

Valiant Keeper:

Oh, not quite what you think… Not yet. It’s ok, dear, brave, and beloved one… No need to reach for unbalanced fear that is no longer one with you, embrace the reverential fear inside, and give honor as you remain humble…You have been heard, and you must come with me… I will take good, good care of you… You have  been summoned.

Warm tears of cleansing, relief, and soul hydration began to ferociously fall down the face of our shero, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress. She wasn’t sad, angry, or anything like that… She had never felt so much love in an embrace, so much comfort in such simple words.

 This Valiant Keeper dressed eloquently in a white so vibrant that it would surely stop the human heart… Gold & virescent accents so pure, they would surely blind the eyes of those not prepared for sight. His skin beautifully alluring in Blackness like the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR, being oppressed on Poisoned Mother…  The Valiant Keeper’s face appeared very masculine, but somehow it translated identical to our shero, who possesses very soft and feminine features. Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress marveled at how she could see her face in The Valiant Keeper, and how he could see his face in hers.

Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress’ tears of cleansing were not just for her, but for all of her people; the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR. Because of this, these tears were accumulating fast and vigorous, slow and concentrated… She tried to stop the weeping, but it was impossible—Her hearts flood gates had been opened wide and were unhindered.

The Valiant Keeper encouraged our shero to continue to let it all flow, as he held her tight and smiled with a clandestine knowing. All of the waters became higher and higher until Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress and the Valiant Keeper, were totally surrounded from top to bottom; they were not covered or wetted by these waters. The expanse even began to fill, transforming Poisoned Mother to her most ancient form… It was beautiful and awe inspiring. Creatures of the great deep were all about them, and as each one passed our shero and the Valiant Keeper, they bowed and saluted before them. Our shero was intrigued about how they all seemed so familiar with the Valiant Keeper, and how they seemed to even respect her… So many beautiful creations of THE ALL THAT IS, some our shero never knew existed; they continued to travel by in a wheel within a wheel type cyclone. One wheel seemed to be going the speed of light, and the other wheel seemed to be going slow enough for each creature of the deep to pay their respects properly.

The Valiant Keeper kept looking down at Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress as he was holding her close to him, in a loving and safe parental-like embrace… Enjoying the euphoria that he saw in her irradiated countenance; elated he could witness her carefree in this moment, since he knew how hard life on Poisoned Mother had always been for her—In this train of thought, he struggled to not weep for our shero… The waters would have been too much for even the restored and most ancient form of Poisoned Mother to contain.

As they continued to stand in the midst of this grand spectacle, the last of the creatures funneled past them, and then the waters began to part in their midst immediately. These waters of Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress’ tears now a great sea from top to bottom, with seemingly no beginning or ending.

From a far off, someone was making their way, on foot, toward Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress and the Valiant Keeper. The Valiant Keeper knew who it was, of course, and his smile morphed into a full waxing crescent moon. Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress asked over and over in a child-like manner, who this being was who was approaching them in such grace and authority… So much so, even the waters parted to make her paths plain. As this one became closer to where they were being suspended in the midst of all the waters, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress could see the irresistibly enchanting Illustrious Nurturer. Our shero was speechless at this magnitude of magnificence coming closer and closer, so she hid her face in the Valiant Keepers chest.

Both the Illustrious Nurturer and Valiant keeper were ever so warmed to such a deep place within themselves, at the kind and loving incense that wafted off Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress…A lightly smoldering offering they found acceptable and pleasing, touching and inspiring. The Illustrious Nurturer lovingly beckoned, with her hand gesture,  for our shero to come to her where she stood a little ways off. Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress head was still turned into the chest of the Valiant Keeper, and so she missed her cue. He had to physically turn our shero around so that she could see the Illustrious Nurturer standing in all her glory. As soon as Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress looked into the eyes of the Illustrious Nurturer, she saw her own almond shape eyes… She again saw her face was translating identical in a perplexing parallel. Our shero felt uninhibited and remarkably comfortable at this sight, and ran out to meet the Illustrious Nurturer were she gallantly stood strong; embracing knowingly they did.

Upon reaching the embrace of the Illustrious Nurturer, this radiant one remarked and scolded the Valiant Keeper for not fixing our shero’s head. Though the blood had stopped flowing the moment she got up from the ground, the gash was still very visible from being hit in the head with a rock, from a male member of the Caucasus People of Dangerously Low Frequency; she couldn’t feel the pain of it. The Illustrious Nurturer placed her hand on this wound caused by the member of the Caucasus People of Dangerously Low Frequency, and immediately it was made whole. Our shero felt a remarkable amount of clarity in this healing that she didn’t realize she needed…Things were even more clear for her; understanding and knowledge more available.

The Illustrious Nurturer clothed in the most elaborately gorgeous gown, made fresh for her from the tears of Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress, right before the Illustrious Nurturer’s grand entrance… Never before had our shero seen something like tears be transformed into such beauty, such splendor… She wondered how she could have something so magnificent inside of her. Our shero’s thoughts moving in a new ways now… Somehow questions and answers dwelling in the same whispers… The whispers, now turning full voice, into beautiful harmonies and melodies in a unison Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress had never encountered before. The Ever Evolving Ancestors… Were they near? Understanding and being aware of everything going through our shero’s mind, the Illustrious Nurturer begin to speak in waves and tides, full of love and intricate care…

Illustrious Nurturer:

How blessed and favored you are… How loved and adored you will always be… How selfless and enduring you have been. It isn’t very often that those upon Poisoned Mother get such a summons… So many inquire, and whispers are sent, but for you… For you, they want to see you before them, the Ever Evolving Ancestors— But understand, it is not yet your time to join them… No matter what, do not get sidetracked, and try to stay longer than you should; remember this warning… It is not yet your time! This is why the Valiant Keeper and I, he’s my husband you know, he and I will give you our vessel so that you can safely make this voyage, and be safely brought back to us. There are forces that do not want to see you get this opportunity… The Nefarious Thrones are livid, and that is why we are interceding to make sure you don’t have any trouble during this voyage.

 It’s very tricky when someone is not disconnected from their flesh form, so we must take precautions. Three things you must remember, for we cannot go with you. First thing you must remember and enact: Do not speak to any creatures except the gatekeepers, and to them only say: “round trip admission” and hand them a gold coin, which I will provide for you. Do not by any means, look at them in the eye or any other creature as you travel. Do not make conversation with anyone, no matter how enchanting they seem. The second thing you must remember and enact: Do not allow the time keeper try to reschedule your appointment… Do not let him trick your or get you to trade with someone else. It is very important, since you are still attached to your flesh, that you be swift. Once you are in the presence of the Ever Evolving Ancestors, you will be safe from these precautions.

 The last thing you must remember and enact: Speak honestly and listen to any and all instructions the Ever Evolving Ancestors give you. Do not deviate from their words, and don’t be too timid to reason with them either, they know you and expect you to be how they have trained you to be: Inquisitive, staunch, and not afraid to speak the truth—They heard you, you know… You wanted to know what was missing, preventing the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR, your people, from  free themselves from the oppression of the Caucasus People of Dangerously Low Frequency… Well, you will soon know cherished and beloved one, and I suspect that you, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress, you will have a great role to play in whatever must be done to find this missing piece… So prepare your heart during your journey. If things get too tough at any time, remember that we will do what we can, within the will of the ALL THAT IS to assist you whenever possible… Just call out to us. 

After these wise words from the Illustrious Nurturer, the Valiant Keeper came to join them where they stood. They produced and pronounced a powerful blessing of protection around our shero, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress. They put all of their might into it, as they were particularly fond of our shero, and wanted her to have as much extra love as they could conjure. As the blessings were being evoked, a papyrus vessel of pure gold came up behind Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress, and the Valiant Keeper picked her up and placed her in securely. The Illustrious Nurturer kissed her on the forehead once she was safely situated, and an energy beam from the heavens began to move the vessel forward.

Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress felt so loved, she really didn’t want to leave the Valiant Keeper and Illustrious Nurturer… But she was also beaming and overjoyed that the Ever Evolving Ancestors had heard her, and wanted to talk to her face to face; soul to soul. For the first time in such a longtime, a genuine grin planted itself firmly on her delicate face, and she bowed in obeisance to its presence. 

Ever since Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress had opened all of her eyes in concert with the vibrant pigments that flashed upon her when first coming to, she was finding that her humility and desire to show reverence to everything and everyone worthy was becoming increasingly important to her. As our shero began to travel on the waters that she made from her warm tears of cleansing, relief, and soul hydration; she kept looking back to this great love she was leaving behind, but that she knew would stay with her somehow… Somehow. 

The distance our shero was making on this vessel, eventually separated her from the sight of where the Valiant Keeper and Illustrious Nurturer stood. For a brief moment, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress felt a bit depleted in that separation, her head lowering… But then, our shero grabbed the strength inside of her she had grabbed so many times in life, and held her head high—Again beginning to smile as she recalled all the beautiful things said about her, and remembering what the Illustrious Nurturer had just told her… Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress, began to prepare her heart.

To be continued…

^{In Unashamed Négritude & Revolutionary Love,}

^ORIT

COPYRIGHT ©  ORIT 2016

All Rights Reserved

www.oritvibes.com

ORI-- An Epic Poem Series

ORI

AN EPIC POEM

(Part 1)

Whisper loudly with determined and perpetual rasp, dear Ever Evolving Ancestors, residing in the bosom of THE ALL THAT IS. Perfect your sound, echoing against the steady resonance of ears drum….Or through the heart that resides in our minds. I beseech thee to engage the heart cadence of young Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress. She is in great travail, to no avail; yet she remains determined to lead your children, the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR… Double dipped in the holiness of Blackness—Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress strategizes, she wars, she fights, she hopes, she cries… And yes, part of her has died in this never ending fight. So Whisper ever so obtusely with laser beam precision, great host of Ever Evolving Ancestors, for if you roar, who can hear the richness of your timbre?

May you gently make every way open to her… May the  Nefarious Thrones not impede her way. I ask that you breathe fresh breaths of inspiration on Poisoned Mother, so that Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress can breathe and find a little enduring safety, creating air for all the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR, as she searches.

Teach her, prepare hard and soft lessons, dear Ever Evolving Ancestors, to correct and hone her so that she might become a greater conduit of Light… Yes, light her way that she may see; especially when it is the most utter of darkness; giving sight to others—Millions of specks of Light, that beam graciously through you… Shine them own our shero, Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress!

Dear Ever evolving Ancestors, created by and one with THE ALL THAT IS, in every Manifestation… I beseech thee, grant my request for our shero! Ashe’ O… And Blessings, yes reign them down upon her in due season. I invoke every righteous and revolutionary one of you, to hear my plea. Please help Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress find what is missing— What is it that is keeping the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR, her people, your children, from actualizing greatness and freedom from their oppression?

Poisoned Mother is choking as every part of her is filled with the contemptuous and putridly rancid aroma, of hatred and greed. Her brawny arms, her bold and impenetrable legs, her bountiful and alluring breasts, her gorgeously rolling and verdant kinky hair hills, her once illustrious sweet and salty life giving and life preserving waters, gushing from her sacred yoni temple, and her nurturing and regenerating innateness— Will she survive the draining of her vibe and energy at such steady rates? The worry for her, doesn’t trump the inaction toward her… Made worse by the lawlessness of the Caucasus People of Dangerously Low Frequency … Who have accepted, preserved, and benefitted from the oppressions and degradation set in place by their Evil Forbearers… So evil of beings; they are not allowed  in the presence of the dear Ever Evolving Ancestors.

All over Poisoned Mother’s tortured and long-suffering soul case, the Caucasus People of Dangerously Low Frequency, systematically wreak havoc on the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR… Blackness glistening, a people of peoples spread all across Poisoned Mother. Blessed were, and despite the great suffering blessed are, the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR, and their homeland in the heart chambers of Poisoned Mother… So great a people, Divine stands of DNA gleaming in everything they are; this caused, and causes still, great jealousy, great greed, and great hatred from the Caucasus People of Dangerously Low Frequency, their Evil Forbearers, and from the Insidious Thrones—Fallen Angels who were once higher in rank than arch angels, yet not as lifted up and lofty as the Orisha: the very Manifestations of THE ALL THAT IS.

The Insidious Thrones saw an opportunity to make an alliance of tyranny, which would wield them more power and control over Poisoned Mother… An insolent and hateful middle finger salute to THE ALL THAT IS. The Insidious Thrones made a proposition to the Evil Forbearers, promising them that they and there descendants would be empowered and enabled, to rule over and enslave, the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR. In exchange, the Evil Forbearers would have to fulfill the will of the Insidious Thrones and those they answer to at anytime… They would also have to relinquish their governing right to the use of their own bodies and energies; they gleefully accepted this multi-generationally damaging deal—Damning their own future generations, as this would apply to them as well. Can such an instinct passed down, be muted and overcome? I don’t know, for it has yet to be done.

Poisoned Mother, once healthy, whole, and the envy of the entire omniverse; she wept foreknowing that this alliance of tyranny would diminish her beauty. She accepted her test and trial from THE ALL THAT IS, valiantly… It hasn’t been easy for her, nor is she without feeling or complaint. She breaks down sometimes and quakes, causing dissimulation upon herself. THE ALL THAT IS, personally places balm on her wounds every time: She endures still.

Take reverent and reflective heed, Poisoned Mother was not always her name, but alas, as she became more and more envenomed by the alliance of tyranny, she could no longer carry the sacred name that is not permitted for flesh and blood to know any longer; it can only be remembered in the secret chambers of each primordial soul.

Her once exalted name, taken from her by matter of Omniversal Law and Jurisdiction; this shamed her immensely. And despite her personal tragedy, she still holds on, she is waiting still. Poisoned Mother could have never predicted the depths that her suffering would reach… Never could she imagine that her long-suffering would overshadow her power, yet she still holds on waiting for her redemption—Waiting also for the absolute justice and retribution, to be enforced on behalf of, the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR… Her first born, dust of her dust; the children that regulate her heart cadence, and suckle at her breast still.

The alliance of tyranny that rules Poisoned Mother, is one concocted of the Insidious Thrones vicious imaginations, and the Evil Forbearers thirst for greed and hunger for blood… Continued to this day through the Caucasus People of Dangerously Low Frequency; heirs and beneficiaries to this alliance of tyranny. Let it be remembered in the presence of THE ALL THAT IS, and the Ever Evolving Ancestors that are conduits of this great Light, that some of the Caucasus People are not of dangerously low frequency. Yet, they are a minority’s minority amongst their own, and even they have many shadows of turning within them, because of the pickled privilege, that they have unlimited jars of, in the pantries of their minds.

This alliance of tyranny began long ago, and the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR have struggled to transcend its quicksand like grip, all over Poisoned Mother’s form… Many transitioning to Ever Evolving Ancestry in the process, as they have fought back, rightfully combatting to loose themselves of this unnatural stronghold. “Why has THE ALL THAT IS allowed this?”— A resounding and collective heart murmur; Poisoned Mother grabs her chest and places a pill under her tongue to soothe the turmoil as best she can, but it isn’t enough… A heart murmur heard between the perpetual rasp of the whispers chanted by the Ever Evolving Ancestors to their progeny; those double dipped in Blackness holy.

The Divine DNA within, would not keep the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR from rising early for every battle waged and initiated by the alliance of tyranny… Winning some, losing many…Always remembering, defaulting intrinsically to who they are, with an intense sense of where they are going to match… A true saving grace… An energy in recollection that has driven many to continue to push, and remind Poisoned Mother that she can surely make it, if her first born can. 

But alas, alas, it has been circular and unsteady… Many rises, and many collapses… Miraculous victories and devastating losses… Great warriors and leaders arising, and detrimental opportunists setting them back. Decades of quiet and complacent mirages of faux equality… Myriads of snares and traps from the alliance of tyranny… How long can Poisoned Mother hold up the weight of this infirmity? This system, initiated by the alliance of tyranny still persists… 

And then our shero, from the bosom of THE ALL THAT IS… Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress was born afresh, cultivated in the embryonic fluid of struggle… And such a deep struggle it has been, she has waged through relentlessly all her days; revolutionary love transcribed and etched deeply into her ancient soul in a young body. She descended, was crafted and brought forth from Poisoned Mother, for such a time as this… Time an allusion. Will the Ever Evolving Ancestors be able to help her fulfill her days, so deeply intertwined with pattern and design? Ever Evolving Ancestors, I call on all of you in right standing and heart… Focus your energy nigh.

Cries to the Sky, all over Poisoned Mother have reached great intensity… And again, the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR have heard the raspy, loud whispers of the Ever Evolving Ancestors—Beckoning them to fight back with might and strength… Time is illusion.

Too much Divine DNA has been spilled all over Poisoned Mother; specifically by the swine battalions; they kill a speck of G-D, yes every time a Direct Reflection of the CREATOR is forced into the Bosom of THE ALL THAT IS because of the hatred, the greed, and the jealously of the solemnity of Blackness. These swine battalions are under the rule of the alliance of tyranny… They have been around for centuries, changing form to suit the day… Time is illusion.

Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress is depleted by the invisible, seeping, and gangrene soul and heart wounds of being war torn; that her strength and determination hide from all who encounter her. On the steps of the Ohio State Courthouse, right where a Young Benevolent Freedom General spilled his blood so soon ago, sending chills through all who felt his winds blow by, as he set sail for the bosom of THE ALL THAT IS… He wanted to help the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR, get further along in their emancipation from the alliance of tyranny… It is heart-wrenching that he felt he had to go, he is so deeply missed.

Poisoned Mother quaked, her anger and sorrow could not be held in. She shed ubiquitous tears for the Young Benevolent Freedom General, and those waters, distinct from all others; they still flow and fall to this very day. The bravest of the brave, the Young Benevolent Freedom General became an Ever Evolving Ancestor, in order to bring first hand account, and in order to lobby face to face, soul to soul, for more aid—The war is being lost. And this is love, if ever anyone wonders… This is love. But behold, though noble and selfless his sacrifice, hitchhiking to the bosom of THE ALL THAT IS; this is not required or expedient. 

Stay here you who read these words, we need your speck of love and light in this utter and complete darkness, and if you need something real, have huge wars defeating you from within… Reach out, and you will be sent someone who will grab you; you do not have to fight alone.

Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress is in deep sorrow and regret, pondering how to proceed. She sits on the steps, near the faded blood spot of the Young Benevolent Freedom General and cries out—Always she is left alone, to try to soothe her internal unrest. She’s always serving, always loving, always fighting… Always weary. She has but a few who care for her outside of what she can do for them, and still, her heartbeat is set on freedom for  all of her people.

Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress:

What can be said now? What more can we do? My people, the Direct Reflections of the CREATOR… We are oppressed on every side. We need help…We’re too scattered…Too Cast aside. We don’t even now how to relate to, and demonstrate love for each other. We have been forcibly dispersed across Poisoned Mother, and told incestuous lies about each other… Even though we face the same alliance of tyranny. Poisoned Mother wails for us and herself… What a sight we have become. What is missing in us that we have been so mesmerized by these mirages; tricks of the alliance of tyranny? It seems that we once knew who we were in a way that focuses and unites, but we are so divided as we try to convince others that our Divine DNA matters… But do we believe it? Pftt! How can we, really?  Why can’t we do what needs to be done to get the Caucasus People of Dangerously Low Frequency off of our necks ? What am I missing here? What am I missing here!— We once had love for one another that caused us to act and amend, never were we perfect, and yes we have fallen short greatly at times… But something important has left us… What is it? We once had a truer sense of who we are as a people, despite the alliance of tyranny… Have we lost a since of our innate Divinity? Something is terribly wrong… Something is terribly out of order… I feel we are forsaken, and I am scared… Yeah, I admit it… Abandonment is an eternal death my soul could never abide. Ever Evolving Ancestors, you blew this wind on us that woke us up, but why are you not helping us maneuver; we are in such disarray and unprepared. We need help… Something is missi…Where are you?

As Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress spoke to herself aloud, getting up, sitting back down… Pacing up and down those courthouse stairs… Becoming louder and louder. One of the Caucasus People of Dangerously Low Frequency, who had been watching her intently, having recognized her from the earlier congregation of Cries to the Sky that day… Cries that she felt were to no avail, and without fire hot enough to summon the help needed… This one, watching her intently, broke her trance-like and unsteadily steady gait with “Hey Nigger!” As Obsidian the Enduring Warrioress turned to look back at him, he hurled a baseball size rock at our shero’s head… Rendering her unconscious; a spiritual passport to sojourn between realms… She had been summoned.

To Be Continued…

^{In Unashamed Négritude & Revolutionary Love,}

^ORIT

COPYRIGHT ©  ORIT 2016

All Rights Reserved

www.oritvibes.com

“For Colored Girls Who’re Considering Giving Up, When Black People Don’t Give a Fuck!”

I have no preconceived ideals about what I am going to write this week. I was searching my heart, my SPIRIT on what I should bring forth…I’m hella late even beginning this blog entry, according to my personal timetable. Nonetheless, I am here. I am here because the title that you just read that reeled you in; it has also reeled me in when it silently screamed in my inward counsel: ”PICK ME!” So reluctantly, yes not too thrillingly, I began this intention of language as if to answer back: “Ok, ok, you have been chosen!”

I have been obedient to this nudging, and so much is coming into my heart and head as I write these very words. I am realizing I need to write honestly, though I always do… But right this very moment, I am sensing there is resistance in me today, that doesn’t want to reveal everything that needs to be revealed. I am kind of forcing myself to flow right now… The flow is easy, and so is putting a plug on that flow, when I don’t feel like emptying out. In any case, I must be forthright in this post as much as for me, as for any person, no matter how you may identify—There is importance in this space, in these words, and the words that will continue to come forth…Every single character and line that will hit this screen; purpose.

I think I am what one might a call, an optimistic melachonist… A realistic dreamer… A long-suffering agitator… A beautiful warrioress not stopped by fear… A prophetic omen who is too sensitive… A short-tempered unflappable… I’m proud (sometimes unbalanced), full of love, annoyed easily & not with the shit, whilst remarkably strategic; reluctantly patient… I am all of these things and more…Complex and full of revolutionary love. I am sure that many of you are just as colorful in your own distinct ways… Only you can properly describe your truth.

My truth right now is that I am so sick of my own people. I love y’all, all of y’all in ways that causes action… RELENTLESSLY -UNCONDITIONALLY-ENDURINGLY. But let’s be honest, some of our people don’t want to be better (character wise), than the foulest shit in the tank; this is exhausting AF! I and a host in this realm and the other realms… Many have risked a lot for our collective good. Truth is, I am confused on how to continue to proceed, and this makes me feel guilty, ashamed, sad, worthless… I don’t know how to help us anymore—Besides artistic expression… Maybe that is all I can do? I’ve already risked my very life a few times, and had I transitioned on; it wouldn’t have helped the struggle. We just aren’t in the place we need to be for sustaining tangible victories. This is sad, especially for every genuine soul who has been on this battlefield, some longer than I have been on this earth.

I am willing to do more, as I have always previously done. However, we are not really ready for more, nor are we really ready for revolution… Let’s keep it real! So…How do I, or anyone else who feels like me… How do we maintain, watch over, and participate in the righteous radical tradition passed down to us, when there is very little air, and very little space in which to move? We can’t go backwards, and become a willingly soul-blinded, “go along to get a long” type of participant  in this corrupt and racist system. At the same time, lack of unity is preventing us from truly actualizing what we could if we were one in spirit—Maybe it’s my job, and the job of others,  to be a place holder and preserver of truth, for those who will be able to actualize liberation in real and lasting ways in the future? I dunno, I really don’t.

As the movie about one of my favorite Ancestors( Nat Turner) has finally been made available, the unapologetically rapey history of the writers of the screenplay, and the concern that the movie has more historical inaccuracies, than realities about Nat Turner’s actual life…Those of us who bring up these facts (Visit: NAT TURNER PROJECT to read original and authenticated documents) have been the subject of ridicule from many of our people, who question how dare we “diminish” this movie and be “saboteurs” *cue scary music* of it… ‘Cause apparently, only BLACK movies matter to so many of our people, right? SMDH! Too many insensitive people in our community, have decided to turn off their hearts in knowing that rape victims and sympathizer’s feel some sort of way about all of this… Understandably conflicted. So many of our own people have not been willing, on any level, to understand how the revelations about these two men could create angst, and how much seeing a slave rebellion on screen (in historical context); how that could have meant even more to a BLACK Person affected by rape, if the writers hadn’t gotten off for participation in rape acts. And no, ignorance would NOT have been bliss…Only dishonest, uncouth, ignorant ass people think like that… All this was revealed for a reason…I will get more into that later in this blog.

So many of our people have shirked the responsibility of thoughtfully engaging the subject of rape culture within the BLACK Community, an ongoing up-mountain battle… Maybe this is why it was easier for so many to choose defending a movie, over choosing to understand our sisters and brothers who have experienced soul death in the form of rape. Folks acting like they don’t understand why people could boycott this film, when we attempt (because most won’t participate) boycott’s all the time against anything that is racist. Instead, many have chosen ways to canonize Nate Parker, and blame the victim who killed her self a few years after “that night.” It wasn’t/isn’t a problem, to me at least,  that you went to see the movie. The problem is so many of you have decided to show that we don’t understand our duty to one another… That willful ignorance is the chosen form of pseudo black liberation for way too many in our community.

 By the way, in case you are fuzzy about the facts: These two men who wrote Birth of a Nation ( Nate Parker & Jean McGianni Celestin) admitted to having forced sex with an unconscious girl, and the fact that they put a rape scene in the movie… A scene that doesn’t line up with Cherry’s (Nat Turner’s wife) actual life—Setting the intention for the rebellion on Nat wanting to avenge her, when that wasn’t his motivation because it didn’t happen like that… That… All of that; it was just a fantasy of Nate Parker. 

Lawd, if we can’t be meticulous enough to at least make sure Nat Turner’s motivations are truthfully depicted… Then WTF are we doing here? Depicting a slave REBELLION is hella important work… Seeing our people fight back instead of being degraded and mauled…. This radical BLACK Womban wanted to see it too! But check this out, just because it is important work and long overdue, that does not mean it should be done haphazardly, or that other issues  blown up in the winds should be disregarded. Dr. Alexander who is an expert on African American History & Movie Accuracy wrote on all of this in great detail here… Please check it out.

The problem is we know that white people lie, misappropriate, erase, and diminish our stories all  of the time; mostly as a form of psychological warfare and control. Not only do we have this white erasure occurring, we also have BLACK People who do not have integrity in telling our stories, when we know how dire it is for our people. Look at that horrible Nina Simone Biopic that came out this past Spring. We all agreed that we weren’t with the shit, and though there was a white director, it was the Nigerian-Brit who Played Dr. King in Selma who was the executive producer… Yes, a BLACK man who should’ve known and wanted to do better…Ugh! Why he would decide to allow Nina to be done like trash is such a deep subject, one that will need its own blog entry! He gave zero cares, fucks, or fly-by’s; refusing to hold sacred space and integrity in maintaining our very revered and precious to us, Nina Simone. 

Movies are often the 1st impression many will have with a subject matter, if they aren’t readers… And let’s be honest, most people don’t read, or can’t read for a myriad of legit reasons. Yes, movies are important. They are great ways to bring forth truth, help connect the dots between the imagination and reality…They can be beacons of light or darkness… It all depends on the storyteller and their integrity level— And BLACK People, we should know this more than anybody, and this is why we are without excuse when we don’t take care with our own history…Why put out misinformation about the pillars of our struggle and existence, when white people are already doing it perpetually? How does that empower? How does that educate? Seeing BLACK People on the screen is important, and likewise, never should our narratives be sacrificed, especially not by us.

Yes, it is WONDERFUL that our Ancestor’s name, the great Nat Turner is ringing throughout the land. He deserves to be fully known, and for us not to place anything on him that isn’t true, or that misleads the very fabric of his part in our his & her story… His life’s work is too important to our self-determination and peoplehood, even in present times. We understand that no movie is 100% accurate, but it is not asking too much, and should be understood, that movies must be mostly accurate when telling historical stories, or they miseducate… Do you want folks to be miseducated about BLACK History when the oppressor works hard to do that daily? I don’t!  Regardless, a positive is that some will still be intrigued enough by the movie to go study the subject matter more in depth, unfortunately most won’t. We praise the CREATOR for Nat Turner, so why should he be reduced to fiction when his reality is breathtaking and soul stirring? Why? And why are so many of y’all ok with it?

So… I bring up this issue( the movie & Nate & Nat) because it is fresh and still evolving… It isn’t, in and of itself… It isn’t why I feel ”confused” about how to proceed with us( BLACK People) and our fight toward more BLACK Liberation, or how all of this makes me feel just plain ole’ sad. The turmoil of trying to stay afloat and not succumb to the quicksand-like cognitive dissonance all about us, whilst trying to keep everyone around me from sinking too… It’s a lot to handle. I think what is bothering me at the core is that my people and I aren’t free, because we won’t unite, and because we avoid the pruning needed for our collective development.

See, what is really getting to me is that we continue to allow every opportunity we are given, to hold dialogue and spring forth ways we can help eradicate rape/molestation culture in our community, better preserve and protect our stories, our narratives, and so many other issues… Every damn time it seems we group-sabotage the process with avoidance culture. I am not sure if avoidance culture is a term coined by anyone in particular, but this is how I am describing what I see in our community at this moment. It is much like other sub-cultures within our community, that have a negative and growth stunting effect on us as a people. It intersects bad character, respecter of persons aka “celeb/notable person getting free passes to be destructive”, rape/molestation, mutual intergenerational disrespect, misogynoir, etc…All of these issues are really so complex that they are sub-cultures within our community with lives of their own; preventing us from getting further along.

All of this is particularly  disheartening to me… Why, some of y’all may ask? Well, it’s disheartening because it has been like this for so many years, and we will stay stuck like this, traveling in the wilderness perpetually in circles, until it matters to the majority of us… Right now, it simply doesn’t. We are in desperate need to unite in order to fight the Amerikkkan Terrorism that is suffocating us as a people—Sadly, we aren’t even getting in the ring in this fight… Not really like we could if we changed our hearts and way of thinking. The possibilities are endless with renewed and culturally educated minds, realigned and high-vibing hearts and spirits. This is really the key that would open all doors for us… Would and could, but… We are… Here.

And what’s worse… Those genuine efforts amongst us are drowned out by the majority in our community, who’d rather not do the tough inward work we must ALL do…Collectively and individually, in order to attain the greatness we once had, and then surpass even that.

In a previous blog a few months back, I wrote about the Nate Parker situation at length… Check it out by clicking the word “blog” in the first sentence of this paragraph. I can’t speak for anyone else, but let me help you better understand what is irking the hell out of me, like I promised I would. It isn’t that people are going to see the movie per se… Maybe that is only 10% of my angst at most, honestly speaking… Understandably people had to make this complex decision on their own…. These were at least my sentiments before finding out the movie wasn’t really telling Nat’s story, that brought on a whole other set of issues as I have already elaborated on… 

My problem is that Mr Belafonte, Jesse WIlliams, and a host of BLACK men and women who may not be well known, but matter just as much…They made seeing this film and promoting it an obligation of BLACKNESS, and actually have pushed for us to avoid discussing  the rape… Throwing it to the infamous hush culture so prevalent in our community. BLACK People know exactly what I am taking about when I say hush culture… Ask a question that surrounded something you didn’t know was a secret in your family, and it was hush…Question wrongdoing by prominent people, the community as a whole wanted you to hush… Hush hush hush—Well damn it, I will not hush!

Men, women… It doesn’t matter. So many continue this sickness in our community… Aways sacrificing the most vulnerable, the victims, and the most affected to the winds… In order to maintain an image to whom though? I say, if you do participate in these harmful subcultures, I declare you are not doing it to protect our people, but rather you are doing this to maintain an image for white people. I get the tactic of not airing all of our business before the enemy, and still, we have to rightly fix issues, even if others get front row seats because we let it go on too long… It is what it is… We’ll be all the better for properly healing our own community.

I’m not gonna mince words, because I never do… I don’t care how militant and pro-BLACK you say you are—Why are too many of y’all always throwing some of us away like bath water that’s been used by 5 people, just to maintain the facade of one amongst us, who is in the spotlight? Why? Answer me, damn it! This is pure and utter trash can! This is called community destroying, and for every step we take forward, this avoidance culture and every subculture it intersects; it’s killing us. I get that we as BLACK people have had to work so hard to achieve everything… I get why people want to protect achievements. I am here to say that achievements are not more important than the holistic health of the people in our community, and how we deal with one another.

And oh, let’s talk about this real quick… I am “Fannie Lou Hamer-ed” to the bones… Sick and tired of being sick and tired of those in our midst, who want to explain away the wrong doing of Nate Parker, Bill Cosby, R-Kelly, and so many others—Doing so by invoking the name of a white person(s) who does/is doing the same crimes… Boy o’ boy, If y’all don’t get! I am so tired of y’all talking all this BLACK Liberation theory, when it's proven to be devoid in your soul, when all you do, all the live long day, is compare our people to white people, and what they are getting away with. There is no community building without integrity and standard… Our standards have to far surpass that of the oppressor, or we won’t ever be shit! Why have people actually defended Nate by saying, “Well Bill Clinton is a rapist and got away with it…” Ok, what the fuck does that have to do with our people, and building ourselves up? Oh, so you want BLACK Men to be able to rape and get away with it, because Bill Clinton did… Is that what you’re saying? Is that the freedom you are fighting for? ‘Cause real talk, that’s really what you are saying when such filth comes from your mouth…WHITE 👏🏿PEOPLE👏🏿 DO👏🏿NOT👏🏿SET👏🏿OUR👏🏿STANDARDS👏🏿—————So stop this, now! 

Timing or no timing, had Nate and the co-writer of the screenplay not forced themselves on an unconscious girl; there would be no case to surface. What they did to this girl is not at all comparable to the many BLACK men who have truly been falsely accused of rape or other crimes. Both Nate and Jean admitted to what happened, claiming they didn’t know it was wrong? o_0  Jean was found guilty, and Nate only got off because he could prove he had sex with her before, when she was conscious and willing…Ain’t that some shit?

It would have been oh so clutch to not feel like, for the umpteenth time, that only prestige &/or money matters to the people in our community…That prestige &/or money can be used as tools to silence victims and those facing oppression from the people in our community. I believe this  whole Nate Parker/ Birth of a Nation situation was a test, and an attention grabber by our Ancestors; chiefly Nat Turner himself—We have failed this test AGAIN, and we have had the opportunity to take it over and over throughout the years. BLACK women and girls, victims of all sorts and kinds… Of every gender and orientation… We all gotta matter in the BLACK community, or none of us will be here; we’ll be too divided to protect one another. And BLACK men, I love you. Please understand that this bro culture shit is like a bullet being shot through the fabric of our collective quilt… You have a powerful say in putting your wayward bro’s in check… BE silent, no more!

And like I said previous, so many of us are reading the tea leaves wrong… My Ancestor Nat Turner was a righteous man… Making a film about him is an invocation. Oh… I get it. Many ain’t think he was gonna show up, seeing his children not getting his heart set quite right, something that would seem to be very important to our Ancestor. Do you really think Ancestor Nat Turner  wants us to continue to not deal with the rape, hush and avoidance cultures that continue to plague our community? Do you think our Ancestor Nat was gonna let his son Nate Parker get away with some bullshit, and not deal with his inner demons and “so what-isms” concerning his actions? Especially by Nate portraying him… Come on now! You must gotta know better, and if not, I respectfully say you may have the Ancestors all the way fucked up then! Pftttttt!

Ancestral energy has been strong concerning all of this, baby cakes— This energy has been misinterpreted in my humble estimation! I totally believe everything resurfaced about what Nate & Jean did; it all came up for many reasons, and he( Nat Turner) wanted things set right. But alas, silly us…We haven’t enough spiritual desire for deeper insight on most days… To know when we are being attacked, or when we are being chastised… To know when we are being harassed, or  when we being asked to get ourselves together… Ancestors don’t just bless, they correct us too! They love us… All of us… Nate Parker too!

So… This realization, using this current situation with Nate Parker and all things concerning the Nat Turner Movie as an example of the mindset of our people… All of this just exemplifies that I just don't know what to do or say anymore. I mean, I will continue to speak truth, and create art that lifts and teaches my people wherever the destination height or depth…I am afraid even with doing that, if we do not hear the alarm being sounded, and do more to fix our heart set; we’ll be doomed. I feel like with all the truth that any one of us can provide to our people; what will it do if it isn’t able to penetrate the walls of stone… Walls that prevent us from truly loving and caring and protecting one another…Walls that prevent us from seeing each other as an extension of ourselves, therefore not willing anyone or anything to hurt or destroy who we are… I dunno y’all… It just makes me wonder…

^{In Unashamed Négritude & Revolutionary Love,}

^ORIT

COPYRIGHT ©  ORIT 2016

All Rights Reserved

www.oritvibes.com