Loyal readers: Haiti desperately needs tents. I would like to encourage all of you to join me in texting SUPPORT SHELTER to 20222 to donate $5 or donating directly to ShelterBox at http://www.shelterboxusa.org which will help send Haiti boxes w/ 10-person tents, cooking utensils, and water purifiers. ShelterBox is already mobilized and on the ground and could use our unified support. Please see the attached videos:
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After the Writer`s conference it was time for me to relax. So I went to the Lakers game six playoff game versus the Spurs (they won). I took a trip to Malibu and ate a bucket of seafood on the beach. I partied with my best friend Steve. Good times were had by all.
I learned by reading her blog that Tananarive Due (author of the African Immortals Series: My Soul to Keep, The Living Blood, and Blood Colony) would be speaking at a black book fair in L.A. She and her husband Steve Barnes were speaking in tribute to the late Octavia Butler. I arrived a little late, but I thought that Tananarive had noticed me. My hands immediately starting sweating and my anxiety tripled. I knew this moment would be intense, but my reaction surprised me.
I discovered Tananarive back in 2005 while in Barnes & Nobles working on my own novel One Blood. Her novel The Between was in one of those special paperback racks and I was immediatley drawn to the cover. Upon reading the back cover, I knew I had to read the book. I read it in one sitting and immediately headed to Barnes and Nobles to buy everything else she had written. Tananarive writes in the same genre as myself and I knew I had found a kindred spirit in writing. Over the last three years we had even been in contact over e-mail. She has always been exceptionally encouraging, even offering to provide me with a blurb for my book once it is published!
After their emotional dialogue on Octavia Butler’s significance and legacy, Tananarive and Steve headed across the street for a book signing. I was one of the first people in line and got to take this beautiful photo with my writing hero! If you are a fan of supernatural suspense, you have to pick up her books, she is the best in the business.
The following morning I boarded a plane to Charlotte, NC. My parents live in South Carolina and I had planned a surprise visit. Needless to say my folks were thrilled. My Mom made my favorite foods – cabbage and sausage, cornbread, and potato salad. We went to the movies to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (great movie!). The best part of my visit happened on Tuesday night, June 3rd, 2008.
As my parents and I watched, Barack Obama effectively clinched the democratic presidential nomination. It was an emotional moment. My parents had lived through the civil rights movement, the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Malcolm X, the beginnings of affirmative action, and the ascension of Barack Obama. As I watched Obama’s acceptance speech, I was filled with pride and a bit of fear as well. Any body who has seen the zeitgeist (http://zeitgestmovie.com) knows why I might be scared for Barack. But we focused on the positive. The amazing. The inprobable. The inevitable. Change.
I shared a poem I had written on the subject of Barack with my folks:
The restless are resting less
Because there is less assurance
Yet increased uncertainty
These are dark days
But sun rays travel light years to illuminate the way
So who are we to lie idling by
Letting time pass us by
What will it take to make us try
Harder tomorrow than we did today
Will it take more calamities
More slain Iraqui’s and Afghani’s
Higher death counts of our troops
Higher amounts of toxins in our food
In our air
Why don’t we care about any of these things?
Why do we put so much value on diamond rings
While everyday we divorce from nature
Is it our basic nature to destroy
Or can we employ our strengths to create
What are we waiting for
We don’t have to be restless anymore
Just like we don’t need wings to soar
We just need to sweat
We need to get behind a common cause
If we can applaud our sports teams
Can we also collectively dream
Of a world community
Where only necessary resources are divided
Can we decide it’s time to stop laying blame
Shouldn’t we be so ashamed of the state of our home
That we hone in on each problem
And then take the necessary actions to solve them
This moment is not about the them’s and they’s
Nor is it about the concerns that mask our way
It’s about making history
And to make history we have to create a new majority
A new society built on the solid bricks of change
A new golden age where people are no longer afraid
A world where games are not played with people’s lives
A place where survival does not rival education
A nation of people chasing self actualization
Now is not the time for patience
Now is the time of freedom
Now is the time to get the job done
Now is the time for one nation
Now is the moment we’ve waited for a lifetime
But we can’t allow anymore time to slip away
We must embrace positive change for our children’s sake
Let us take on this new challenge
Let us all join hands
We must change the world
And together, yes we can
The next morning I boarded a plane from Charlotte to Tallahassee, FL. Tallahassee holds a very special place in my heart. I spent five wonderful years there during college and grad school. There I became a man. There I developed into an accomplished spoken word artist. There I gained the confidence to pursue my dreams of becoming a writer.
I was back in town after a four year hiatus to attend the 16th Annual Southern Fried Poetry Slam being hosted by my very own Black on Black Rhyme family. Black on black rhyme is a poetry collective that has been going strong since 1998.
Black On Black Rhyme consists of over 35 dynamic poets, lyricists, songwriters, DJs and artists. Much like a large family, members maintain an ever open line of communication with one another which is essential to the maintenance of their creative essence and constant exchange of energies. Being in a room full of these poet artists has been described as “electric”, as each one is as diverse as the many origins they hail from. From as far away as Nigeria, West Africa, to exotic Trinidad on the Caribbean Islands, to the busy streets of Washinton DC, New York City, Minneapolis, Minnesota and of course, “the Dirty South”, Florida. Each and every one of these poet artists bring their own unique style and flavor, and while some members hold down Federal Government positions, others are full-time college students, one is even a college professor, but all are Family.
The Southern Fried Poetry Slam is the premier showcase for poets from all over looking for their entry pass to the National Poetry slam. More than 200 poets and 40teams embarked to Tallahassee looking for fellowship and a shot at glory.
In both the early rounds and the final competition, individual poets and teams squared off to compete. The audience acted as judge. I was participating in the slam as a volunteer although I did get to spit one poem.
A slam is part spoken-word performance, part storytelling session, part improvisational theater and part motivational speech. Poets competing in the Southern Fried Poetry Slam brought their best. There were other exciting events going on as well: a youth slam, a haiku slam, a beauty vs. brawn competition, an erotica open mic, among many.
I was very proud of my poetry troupe for the organization of the event. Everything went off without a hitch and the poetry was off the chain. In the end the team competition was won by The Minoriteam from Tampa. The indie champ was Big Mike (he was original and hilarious!)
On Saturday afternoon, I boarded yet another plane and headed back to Sao Paulo. I was juiced like I had been pumped full of Growth Hormone. And in a way I had been. My mind had grown in different directions on this trip. I had been surrounded by passionate artists, some of whom live off of spoken word. I had been reinfected by their spirit!
As I closed my eyes for some well-deserved shut-eye, I knew that this trip had changed me for the better! I had traveled from coast to coast and had seen some of the best people that America has to offer. God, I miss home…
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