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
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