What's up to the planet. Sending love out to the universe. 
I decided to change my page a tad--for those who actually take the time to read pages, I'm still 48 years of age until later this year.
I'm a laid back real sista residing in Colorado. What I mean by "Real" is that I don't feel I need to work to impress anyone. I allow my spirit to flow naturally. I am who I am, you either feel me or you don't. When I'm signed onto BP I am either responding to notes, or in the 40's chatroom.
I'm there for entertainment purposes ONLY...I love to laugh, act silly and read the madness that other people say. I don't take this seriously because to me...it's not. I know some other people feel differently and that's ok for them. How can I take someone serious that I have never met and probably will never meet? How can I become insulted online when I am not insulted by people offline? People are people..some good..some bad...some are like a bag of mixed nuts...you never know what you're gonna get. lol
However, I must admit, I've learned that too much of the chatroom can feel like being locked up in a room with someone intoxicated and you're sober. If you don't know what that feels like...try it sometime. lol
Ok.....enough of that blah blah...I'm out!
Tag made by FearlessDiva...thanks fearless for sharing ur talent
Tag made by Jenn (EthnicFlava) thanks sis!
A Brave and Startling Truth
Maya Angelou
American Poet, Author and Actress
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth
And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms
When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil
When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze
When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse
When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets
Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world
When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe
We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear
When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it
Young people tend to enjoy calling others "OLD"...what you don't know is that each day hangs by a thread. If you think for one second you are invincible, you might want to think again. This Denver Bronco cornerback was killed during the early morning hours of the New Year. It doesn't matter who the bullet was actually intended for...try explaining that to his mother, grandmother, children and all of his family that weeps in disbelief. My point is, think before you speak because not everyone lives to an "OLD" age.
"Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which were overcome while trying to succeed. . . ."
--Booker T. Washington |
| "If someone shows you who they are, believe them. - Maya Angelou |
