“Look up mommy”: speak a voice, looking up, in the night.
“I see the conjunction; do you remember the planets?”: speak an older voice, looking down at her daughter.
“umm yes, Mshtari and… and, don’t say it! Zohari”
“Very good… do you want to hear a story about them?”
“yes”
A blanket covers the two as a third sit down next to his wife in the blanket; he says nothing while looking up.
The mother clears her throat.
“Once many, many, moon turns ago the planets, who were young then, made forms to travel beyond their bodies and record experiences, Zohari chose a form and wanted to experience the ability to play find and seek with the Sun”
“While the avatar to Zohari was on a way to Ra, Mshtari made an avatar. ”
“Mshtari wanted to play shadow evasion with the Sun. And the avatar of Mshtari intercepted the avatar of Zohari.
The two avatars need not speak; they knew their intentions and they began to fight.
The avatar of Ra noticed the battle while waiting in its crown. ”
“The avatars fought with so much passion, they brightened all of space. That grabbed the attention of Hathor, of the old divinities. She appeared about Ra.”
“She spoke to Ra and suggested a solution. Since the two are fighting over hiding in the dark or staying in the light, why not make it where they both can have fun.
Ra did not know how. Hathor answered, what if you use a planet. With Zohari’s avatar on the side not facing you and Mshtari’s on the side facing you, you can search for Zohari while dance with Mshtari.
Ra liked the idea and flew to the fight. The two battling avatars agreed and their spirits soon separated, dimming the heavens. And all three ended up playing on every planet they can find.
Till they ran out of energy and needed to go back to their sources.”
And the two parents, sandwiching thier child, cuddled tighter and looked up to the old light.
If you enjoy my stories and want to read more consider the following
Illustrated fables, from a city near you
https://www.kobo.com/ebook/concrete-fables
The Goods News through the year- stories throughout the calendar
https://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/entry/261-december-solstice-art-or-text-craft-parade-good-news-blog/
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CONCRETE FABLES
Illustrations of moral lessons from the Urban Jungle. A contemporary set of fables as potent as Aesop's. A fun set of fantasies to read at your local park.
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I remember when I saw Hialeah after waking up. The members of the raiding band cautiously behind me. She was cooking food for all.
I knew few english words, my name being John; but she didn’t mind. I met her eyes and she already knew mine. We fell in love, and I joined her raiding party. We survived tons of gunfire as colonist numbers grew and grew. We even got through a pregnancy in a winter woods in the MicMaq lands now called New England. Aponi, our little treasure, skipping in the snow. Hialeah’s feet after the pregnancy always needed extra comfort. I had to make special shoes for her.
Then, the colonists in 1775 finally wanted to not be english. We talked about what we should do. She reminded all of us, her people were assaulted by the colonist and had to flee. The colonists fable of being aided is their version of saying they stole from native people. Her people of the Powhatan Confederacy had to protect our food from colonists, who eventually raided across the Tsenacommacah and made it Virginia. She will never forgive the colonists, whether they call themselves english or american. And the persistence of their myth of friendship, sickens her very soul.
I agreed, some others joined me and her, but most chose to go farther west. I didn’t know about my people across the great water, but I will never forgive the colonists, no matter what they call themselves either. And, we few went south. We were at the battle for Jersey. I even saw a flamboyant soldier defend against the colonists.
After meeting Richard Freeman, he told me that Ethiopia is a place across the big water. Since I never heard of a place across the great water where I came from before, I called myself John Ethiopia.
And then, the war got worse. My beautiful land was shot during a raid, I held our butterfly, as her mother sung her last song to her.
And, in 1783, the war ended. Me plus our daughter, the last of our band, were sent to Nova Scotia. The cold was too much for the little butterfly and she died.
Alone, cold, my memory of her with our little life losing color or definition in the last thoughts in my life.
My spirit now gives thanks not living under the colonists, as their kingdom grew. A kingdom full of thieves. I give thanks for being eternally free from its lies, side my loving wife and child. Beyond the confines or the reach of the eagle.
Thank you for reading, if you want to read more of my work read below
Poetry or More
https://www.kobo.com/ebook/poetry-or-more-1
Bookbub
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49
AALBC
https://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/blog/29-richard-murray-hearth/-
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It is an afternoon sun through calming clouds on the private catholic school Institution Marmoutier , along the Loire river. A boy take his lunch and go to his favorite riverside, alone.
He unfurl his mat and lay on it, placing his lunch beside his head, and look to the gentle clouds, tears budding at the corner of each eye. He sniff and take out an earbud to hear a Carl Sagan recording. His dad liked Carl Sagan alot, as a kid his dad listened to Sagan with his grandfather. The youth cover his face using the back of his hand while tears flow down cheeks.
Abrupt yelling interrupt his woe. He see a girl running from other girls, and he leave his food and mat yelling: "Arrete!"/"Stop!"
He chases them to the abbey; it is quiet cause most of the students are in their rooms or the game room or cafeteria.
He go inside the abbey and silence. He see the portrait of Saint Martin, third bishop of this abbey.
And he recall his father telling him on his first day at the school.
"Souvenez-vous, soyez altruiste, comme Saint Martins"/"Remember, be unselfish, like Saint Martins"
He prayed for days that his father will recover and come home, be a veteran. He is afraid of memorial day communication from relatives in New Orleans in the USA.
Sobbing interrupt his prayers and he go to it. Nestled in a small corner of a hall is a girl his age, by her dress pattern.
He ask: "Qui a fait ça?"/"Who did this?"
The girl do not reply but the boy notice blood from her inner right thigh. He take off his jacket and put it over her and rip part of his shirt and give it to her. She wrap her thigh. A chaplain arrive. The boy is nervous. The chaplain place a calm hand up and say: "Sois calme. J'ai vu ce que tu as fait."/"Be calm. I saw what you did."
The girl rise and go to the chaplain. He whisper in her ear and she turn slightly, her hands on the jacket. The chaplain calmly dissuade her and she exits out the abbey.
"Avec moi"/"With me": gently demand the chaplain to the boy. They walk quietly through the halls and into the chapel.
"S'il vous plaît, priez avec moi, là où saint Martins a prié"/"Please, pray with me, where saint Martins did pray"
The boy at first kneel and close his eyes, peering slightly to see if the chaplain was doing similar. The chaplain smile while praying and the boy close his eyes. The silence made the boy dwell on his thoughts to his father, and he prayed in earnest after a while, and lost track of time, until.
A bell sound a new hour and he rise up.
"profiter de l'école, tout ira bien"/"profit from the schooling, all will be well"
The boy run to class, an official stand outside the classroom door he run to; his jacket is on a hanger.
"bein etudient, aller aller"/"good student, go go"
The boy put his jacket on and enter the classroom, and his day progress as most school days do.
But, in the evening at his dorm room, a knock on the door. He cut on the light and run to embrace his father.
"Vous avez laissé ça dehors"/"You left this outside "
The boy smile looking to his father and notice a wrapping; the right thigh of his father has a tight strapping.
"Oh, ma jambe, j'ai essayé de sauver la vie d'une fille, elle est morte plus tard d'une explosion, mais je jure, j'ai pensé à elle dans mon coma"/"Oh, my leg, I have tried to save the life of a girl, she is dead after an explosion, but I swear, I have thought to her in my coma"
"Merci , Saint Martins"
Thank you for reading, if you want to read more of my work read below
Poetry or More
https://www.kobo.com/ebook/poetry-or-more-1
Bookbub
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49
AALBC
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A teenage boy sit side his parents in a living room, surfing the net while eating breakfast, the quiet is nullifying. He see a trailer for a film.
“Black people in Mexico!… you hear this”: the teenager shout.
“yes, you didn’t know, Hakim”: pleasantly inquire his mother.
Hakim father chime in a vocal gesture, a nod, and words: “Black people live, all over, the earth, always have, always will”
“You guys didn’t tell me about that”
The parents look to each other, and the father speak: “now you know”: and the father laugh.
“Can either of you tell me more about them”
“I will go make muffins Sweets”: and the father begin to leave the living room.
“Ok Cowboy…You see that envelope Hakim… yes, open it and pass me the photo inside… thank you, this is your grandfather, he fought in what you were taught is called World War 2”
“it wasn’t called that”
“not to him, he said, Black folk all around the world been at war and still at war with whites for hundreds of years, no one called that a world war… you know, he died when I was a little older than you, I missed him a lot, you want to know how I saw him later, and how it relates to Black Mexicans”
Hakim give a nod and his mother tell a story.
A girl cry in her room unaware of, what she will do or be, where she can go. She look through a photograph book and see her mother side Aunty Bessie, when they served in world war 2.
https://todaysdocument.tumblr.com/post/189791629093/ltjg-harriet-ida-pickens-and-ens-frances
She remember her father telling her: “Never join the military Dulce, never, never serve another unless it is for your own safety, don’t let your enslavers sell you their lies till you can’t eat anything else, I was forced, like many, don’t do it unless they force you to”
Dulce’s mother was less clear; she suggested to Dulce: “I know your father’s ways but no matter what you do, I will accept it”
But Dulce want to uphold her father; she want to uphold his truth; her problem is few opportunities exist outside joining up. Dulce does not want to clean homes. Dulce does not want to open doors. Dulce does not want to be a secretary. Dulce want to play basketball; no female teams exist, even though she play side all her friends in South Essex.
Dulce continue to cry, nearly twenty and unsure. The rain pour over everything outside. Dulce hear droplets from the crack in the window; she has to close the window so the rain do not come in. At the window she see an odd member in the graffiti on the back side of Uncle Benny’s Ice Cream Parlor.
It wink at Dulce; and she go outside to take the trash; her mother call out her name at the back door; she reply, just taking out the trash ma, and get a simple affirmative.
In the back alley she approach the graffiti soldier. His eyes look to her, she shuffle backward and gasp, and he speak: “Glad you came out to see me, glad you got your hood, preparation is good for any soldier”
Dulce look about worried: “am I in the Twilight Zone or something”
“No need to worry young one, but your father told me all about you”
“My Daddy… but he”
“is dead? yes, but what most of you living folk don’t know is, when a soldier dies, part of their spirit is unrest till their country is found”
“my daddy was an american citizen”
“yes, he was, but…”
“he never loved the usa”
“thus, the part of his soul that is a soldier has no country, think of it, like a spiritual veterans day, you living folk honor the soldiers who live based on your rules of citizenship, but we spirits, honor the soldiers who died based on the countries they were fighting for, take my hand”
Dulce step back again.
“I want to take you to your father”
Dulce step forward, and again, and again, and take the outstretch hand of the graffiti soldier.
Dulce and the Graffiti Soldier begin to walk in the spirit world, hand in hand.
“Don’t worry, you are only in here because of me, if you let go my hand, you will be back in the rain, no problem”
The two walk about in the forever fading world and she see soldiers, who look like her daddy in uniform.
She see soldiers from other times
She see soldiers she think is from the war between the states
Dulce see soldiers that look like the Graffiti Soldier: “they look like you”
“yes, some from the Black Brigade, most of the Ethiopian Regiment”
Suddenly, the Graffiti Soldier grab her hand tight and say: “remember, you can’t leave me”
Dulce is excited as she see her father, sitting among other troops, about a fire.
Dulce father smile bright when he see her and break to only stand firm and salute the Graffiti Soldier:“ Thank you Colonel Tye”
“No problem soldier, I wish I could leave you two alone but”
“It is alright sir, thank you for this”
“Well little one, I will sit here and you can sit beside me while you two talk”
Dulce sit side her father while the Graffiti Soldier sit as arm far as possible.
Dulce and her father hug: “Daddy I miss you”
“I know, the part of me that is your father, your mother’s husband, feels your love all the time, thank you, but know a part of me has a timeless love for you”
“Can I help with finding a country”
“Well, I know some spirits have been waiting for, well, longer than I can explain, over there are Loyalists, who fought for the British, the country they fought for may never happen, the best stories come from the Black Seminoles, their oldest ones were actually descended from loyalists who are here, can you imagine a family reunion here, truly wild”
“Well, can I come back here”
“I am being helped by my comrades to do this, I wanted to show you some of those guys over there, Warriors who fought with Jonas Caballo. They died so that Florida could be its own country, where black or indigenous people could live free absent raids or any sort of attack from the usa, they said something special happened”
“what tell me please”
“well, they say, that the people must have found a home, cause no soldier joined them who said they died out, the last soldier said they were in mexico and were heading south”
“Black people in mexico”
“well now you know, though I have seen many soldiers, I tell you, Black people live, all over, the earth, always have, always will, just like whitey, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, the whole world has native black or white people, look a little different here or there, but everywhere has black or white people”
“Should I tell ma something?”
“No need, I see her in dreams… I want you to know, the country I fought for, has never existed, but if you need to sign up, even if you know about this place, do it”
“Thanks poppa!”: Dulce embrace her father very tightly: “I still miss you”
“I know, you get back in the house ok”
Dulce feel Colonel Tye releasing his grip; she try to grab him back but rain pour on her in the back alley, instead. She stand up and lean over to get the rain from falling on her face, and enter back into the house.
“Alright everybody! muffins are made”: speak Hakim’s father, entering the living room with a warm buttery smelling plate.
He sit down and Hakim ask him as his mother begin a needlepoint: “you know the story of when Ma met OldPa”
Hakim’s father laugh.
“Ma, is this your home? thank you”
Dulce put down her needlepoint: “Well… the home soldiers fight for, thank you… soldiers die for, soldiers return from war to, is not the home of the heart, like our little apartment, it is the home for their people”
“But why didn’t you try to find that home…for our people, the home where grandpa’s spirit can be at peace”
“I think … that is what your grandpa wanted to tell me, that he will be alright, part of him has eternity to wait and pretty good company, I need to find my home of the heart first, before I can find a home for the people”
“I will find the home grandpa’s spirit can return to”
Hakim’s father hand him another muffin: “I bet you will, but put some jelly on that first”
Thank you for reading, if you want to read more of my work read below
Poetry or More
https://www.kobo.com/ebook/poetry-or-more-1
Bookbub
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49
AALBC
https://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/blog/29-richard-murray-hearth/ -
It is the night when the season is between the equinox in September and the solstice in December. The woods are dark or cool. The spirits of indigenous warriors are allowed under the Hunters Moon to inhabit the crows. The march of the pumpkins always arrives through night mid-September equinox or December solstice; they are filled with spirits of children killed before born by the hand of fate. But, in this rare night, the crows found assistance in the crows.
Usually, pumpkins have to travel far in the night to get their inner souls released. Most humans these days don't allow pumpkins to be housed for souls, cutting shapes that the spirits can naturally induce. But the spirits in the crows under the Hunters Moons know. And they choose pumpkins to free their spirits; they choose based on how courageous a pumpkin is. One of the pumpkins selected was the first to reach the top of the hill, any hop forward and it will slide down.
It tried to help the crows break it free by glowing as much as possible. Eventually, it became free and then absent the pumpkin shell, became a light in the sky. Like all others who became free, it lifted high enough to be seen as a star in the sky by anyone on the ground. And, per fate, a young witch noted the spirit in the sky, like a star.
She flew up into the sky and met the spirit and asked it, in an ancient tongue: "young spirit, I lost my ability to have children in an accident but I will love to be your mom, if we work together, I can help you get a body"
The spirit reply: "Thank you, I didn't expect to be gathered by a human. I have been on the march for hundreds of years, since Wounded Knee"
The witch opened her mouth and the spirit came inside. She slowly descended on her broom with a brightness, and went into her home for a cup of coffee. After a bath in herbal salts, she leaves her home, and sits on the grasses outside her home with a cup of coffee. Butterflies flied about her solar brightness in the evening, a new mother with a child honored by the warriors.
The End
Thank you for reading, if you want to read more of my work read below Poetry or More https://www.kobo.com/ebook/poetry-or-more-1 Bookbub https://www.bookbub.com/profile/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49 AALBC https://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/blog/29-richard-murray-hearth/
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This was the party I planned for months to attend. You have to realize, this woman is so sexy, and is a star trek addict. So, I usually am weak in the knees when I am around her. But she talked about the Halloween Party of the year the second day we met, three month ago. I love Mr. Spock too, but I will be blunt. I never saw a Vulcan as sexy as her.
So, here I am. I am prepared to the party. I am dressed as a red shirt, willing to die tonight. I gave her a text and she said she was at the porch with friends. At the stairwell, I glanced at a Cheetara, not really complete; in truth she was more like Fairuza Balk, and I had an issue looking away from her cute face.
It didn’t help me that she had a healthiness around her heart. As a gentleman, I smiled and she spoke to me. She said: “hi, my name is Mikaela, will you tell me about your world?”
I replied, placing out my tricorder: “I come from earth in this collection of planets called the federation. But I arrived to this planet on a ship called the Enterprise”
“Do you want me to escort you around my planet?”
“why not, let’s try up there”
We walked up the stairs and guided through the collectives of various people. At the top of the stars, we saw a guardian.
I spoke in shock to my guide: “who is this, the tricorder says she is full of diakente energy”
The guardian twirls and said: “I am Sailor Andromeda, can I be of assistance"
I reply: "I have a guide from this world, escorting me around. I am trying to get to the porch, see what the mountains are like”
Sailor Andromeda replied: “I will help, follow me”
So, we three went to the porch. And I saw my chocolate Vulcan, kissing a male Vulcan. It occurred to me, I never asked her about her private life. I assumed because she never said. I tried to usher my party away but she saw me, and waved. So, I used my tricorder and ventured to her party. I must admit, the greetings didn’t help me. And, I recall little of the Vulcan I wanted’s smile or the smiles of the two other guys that joined us, one to embrace Sailor Andromeda, or the other to embrace my original guide. We ate food, under the moon. We moved our clocks back. And at the end, I hugged all three beautiful women. And went home alone. But I remember the night well because I saw my new neighbor for the first time. And, she happened to want someone to watch her star trek collection.
Thank you for reading, if you want to read more of my work read below
Poetry or More
https://www.kobo.com/ebook/poetry-or-more-1
Bookbub
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49
AALBC
https://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/blog/29-richard-murray-hearth/ -
Happy 20th anniversary Deviantart , the black and white version is my style, but I chose to color it to fit the invitational from deviantart . Do you like the Black and white or the colored?
Black and white version- my favorite
https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/art/20th-anniversary-deviantart-Black-and-White-856152910
Color version
https://www.deviantart.com/hddeviant/art/20th-Anniversary-Deviantart-856152306 -
Thank you @rosa yes, alone is not the best, not desired:) your right
haha your right @Troy I didn't think about the forest fires, los angeles, look red from above, have you seen those photos:)
ahh florida, equatorial life:) is a blessing at times:) always green, nice. Glad to see another season with you troy
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An autumn wind speak this morning. It speak that the autumn is here for good, until the winter wind come. Let me boil some syrup. I need to get the wood, give me a moment. <Sniffle> I remember when I came here. The tantalum rush was amazing. Can you imagine a stream of automated vessels, frozen bodies inside , risking fate, between harvested body parts to raided goods to slavery on an A.B. hideaway , streaming from the spaceport in Addis Abeba to Beijing2 on Europa. I recall viewing it,nightly, with my ElectronMacroscope, from here on Titan. Few of those brave travelers made it here; the terraforming of this moon was the last initiative of the United Nations before the fall. But, millions came to this moon for the Tantalum. I worked my way here: a labor ticket to the moon from Earth, thirty years serving Senor Quetza who is still a lunar lord, paid my way to the graneries of mars for thirty years of overseering the self-automates, then enough money to take a long arc frozen trip around the AB and the battles of Jupiter. From out of my mother's womb to Titan took ninety one years. At seventy-eight I was content. I never found a woman on the way who wanted eternity with me or likewise. I helped a few people become mature. But, I just wanted to reach this place. Took me five years but I found this little enclave between mountains, no Tantalum, but everything I truly wanted. Some place to rest after a life lived.
I hear something. I am getting dressed to go out. Sometimes my fellow minors lose themselves in their depression. <creeeeek> I don't see anyone. ... I hear it again. Let me check the river. Ahh....
The Autumn Deer is looking at me from the frozen mist down the mountain in the nearby wood. Amazing how the deer evolved here. "Hello Friend!" Ahh, he is going into the ice blue mist. Enjoy life my friend, as I have. If anyone find my audiorecordings this land is in your caretaking. The tantalum can not be mined forever. And the beauty here can not outlast the dying sun, but will last longer.
Thank you for reading, if you want to read more of my work read below
Poetry or More
https://www.kobo.com/ebook/poetry-or-more-1
Bookbub
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49
AALBC
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I remember the autumn gatherings when I was a girl; sparkling gala’s where my parents dressed me plus my siblings in glittering attire. I loved it. I felt always like a princess.
The pumpkin pie, the cranberrry sauce, the rice pudding, the apple custard, the watermelon slices, the corn bread … I loved it all. A peaceful rearing for me, the magic was in merely being alive; I had no need of unicorns from mystical worlds gated in forests or aliens from beyond the sky or anything unearthly.
I had a brilliant summer, and now my Autumn.
My autumn is simple and in continuity, a life from a woman alone. My job I like to do while it pay the bills, allow me to save, and give me time off. I am unmarried, but I have all sorts of comforts: masculine,friendly,inhuman; I am not alone. I am the autumn, and I am at peace as when I was the summer.
Thank you for reading, if you want to read more of my work read below
Poetry or More
https://www.kobo.com/ebook/poetry-or-more-1
Bookbub
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49
AALBC
https://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/blog/29-richard-murray-hearth/-
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International Day of Peace story
A man one day thought to himself, I will disturb nothing else, while laying in a bed, formerly his. He pee on the bed, defacate on the bed, so that he will not disturb the floor, the door, the world outside. His body hurt when he become hungry and he shake in the bed, stirring in the odor.
Finally, he realize he has to disturb where he lay. He can never be completely peaceful, and gets off his bed at peace.
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9/11 2020
9/11 has two lessons,
first, don't lie to yourself
The tragedy in 9/11 is that most people in NYC have accepted a lie as the narrative of that day. I was near those buildings. I heard/felt both planes collide into skyscrapers. If I ever find my 9/11 diary, a set of writings of all I experienced that day, I will publish it. But my memory provides enough detail to know the end of lying to self is the first lesson from 9/11.
People in NYC during that day asked why, why this happen? as if, they didn't know what the empire that the USA is does every day to places all over the world. People in NYC during that day blamed all sorts of people absent proof. I heard china/Russia/Puerto Rico/native Americans/CIA/illuminati all sorts of people uttered, proof to none, and yet, the people in NYC uttered this.
Some will say, people under duress must be forgiven the things they say or do. I oppose that view.
Hiding your negative biases or ignorance behind fear or impotency in moments of weakness is the greatest sign of a liar.
Everyone, next time any issue you care about is being discussed in your home, ask yourself, what is the truth? Not what is right or wrong, what you want or oppose, ask yourself what is the truth. The truth tends to show us, not what we want, or what we oppose, not what is right or wrong. The truth tends to show us, what needs to be done to get what we want in the most difficult way, absent lying. Now if you choose an easier path afterword, you are free to as a human, but know that it is a lie that base your actions.
second, don't think you can live outside the reach of the problems you make. It is a simple truth that the negativity one causes come back to them or those connected to them eventually.
Every black person that swore nonviolence was correct while black pregnant women were being hanged by a white mob didn't accept their lie will cause the death of many of their kin long after their dead. and the tragedy is, their latter kin maintaining said lie, haven't accepted the constant lesson of history from all the generations before that accepted said lie.
The truth is, all the people in the USA made the terrorist act in 9/11. The citizens or civilians in it who were too busy to vote quality leaders who wouldn't let a Statian imperial war machine be on the rampage, too focused on their money to chastise absent reprieve the military for killing unarmed people outside the USA. The elected officials, sitting pretty in seats of power in the municipal government of an empire to challenge how that empire maintains power or wealth off the death of people outside the USA. The security agencies like the CIA/FBI or similar, who do the most negative acts on a daily basis absent any scrutiny but always known through whispers everywhere in the USA. The fiscal firms that live as individuals above the law trading in the pains of the world for fiscal profit, whose shepherds evade the horror they engender.
The people of the USA made the terrorist act in 9/11 and still are not able to accept that simple truth.
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A Seventeenth Witch
It was a quiet morning, in an eighth seventeenth
Miss Sarah, a witch, had a really long day
A witch, that she is, that she is
The clouds full from night dings, all seem calm underneath
Miss Sarah, wait an encounter, in the street
A witch, that she is, that she is
A tree crack begin a sing, mashes like titans teeth
Miss Sarah, now no human feet, but purring
A witch, that she is, that she is
A girl cry, I am falling! shouts from anger bequeath
Miss Sarah, know hands weave cruel from the lightning
A witch, that she is, that she is
Cat shade, spells from lightning cling, in nights eighth seventeenth
Miss Sarah, four legged, know where the light land
A witch, that she is, that she is
Through parks, dodge wild cans, running, past bright cars underneath
Miss Sarah, absorb the cruelty fore the street
A witch, that she is, that she is
Boom! she leap side hot white bling, she fall on concrete teeth
Miss Sarah... feel wet licks and a quiet warmth
A witch, that she is, that she is
Eyes open to soeur earrings, We Won! now eighth eighteenth
Miss Sarah, in the pawed coven, knew the price
A witch, that she is, that she is
A teen wait for a purring, cause her mother bequeath
Miss Sarah, in her daughter's arms, now home, safe
A witch, that she is, that she is
No image through tweet will bring, witch pride last seventeenth
Miss Sarah, side sisters, saved all, quietly
A witch, that each is, that each is
If you see a black, purring, rubbing, please don't seethe
Miss Sarah, or sister maybe, just friendly
A witch, that she is, that she is
from
Richard MurrayIf you want to enjoy more poetry from me, consider the following work
Poetry or More - Audiobook seriesPoetry or More- complete text only
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Catholic saint day for dominicus, patron saint of astronomers
August Skylights
Aug 3 Full Moon at noon
Aug 4 Moon, Saturn, Jupiter and Spica line up around 10 PM looking south
Aug 8 Mars, Moon, Saturn, and Jupiter line up around midnight looking southeast
Aug 9 Moon at apogee (251,400 miles away)
Aug 12 Perseid meteor shower peaks, pre-dawn
Aug 11 Third Quarter Moon at 12:45 PM
Aug 18 New Moon at 10:40 PM
Aug 21 Moon at perigee (225,900 miles away)
Aug 25 First Quarter Moon at 1:57 PM
Aug 29 Saturn, Jupiter, Moon form a small triangle, under the big Summer Triangle, midnight
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The world seem dark, stepping hooves are still audible. A hand lift the veil of unending night into a day aside a rodeo troop.
“What did I tell you about walkin around when the horses are about with your hat down?” : speak a visibly mature female in an honest rodeo rider gown, gentle while luscious smile absent lipstick, smooth chocolate skin reflecting the light in the day; the little girl she is speaking to shrug her shoulders.
“Come on Candace”: speak another female troop member. The little girl, a third candace height or width with hair in a bun while some mud is in her face, look about the troop getting ready.
“hey, Emae , be good ok and when we finish the afternoon show I will tell you a story from any card you want”: and Candace get on her horse, in front of the troop. Emae look to Candace horse.
“Jambalaya, please take care of Candace”
The horse look down to Emae and winkle both nostril. Emae walk around the march and take something from her back pocket; it seem to be a card set. Suddenly, Emae drop the card set with a shimmy.
“Beebee!”: Emae shake her head while picking up the remaining fallen card. Beebee sit in the railing and Emae eventually join her.
“Why do you take your cards out Em, I keep mine safe”
“Cause Candace always gives good information on any one I choose in various times, I must be ready”
“I don’t have that one, who is that”
“This is Nat Love, my sister said he once jumped off of the Rio Grande Western Railway to catch a horse that was possessed by a vengeful spirit.”
“you and your stories”: but Beebee listen.
“All are true!, the train was taking magical native american items from Mesa Verde, Colorada to Salt Lake, and from there to New York and go cross an ocean to Finnyland”
“Well that explain the horse’s anger”
“Yep, the horse was trying to cause an avalanche on the mountain side, but Love waited for it, climbing outside the train cars to the front of the train, and jumped on it, using his years of experience. No one in the company saw him wrassle a horse before. And he and horse tumbled aside the mountain. He was so tough. He saw the spirits in the horse and asked them what was wrong as he rode the bucking beast. GO CANDACE!”
Beebee cheer. And, Emae continue talking as they watch.
“… backflip it Sara!… well, the spirits spoke to Love and they said, they don’t want to leave thier home. Love realized what needed to be done. The ancient spirits needed another vessel. But with so many spirits in need, the horse wasn’t enough, so Love made a bargain with the spirits. He will offer his body if he fail to return all the spirits to their ancestral home… eventually the train reached Salt Lake and with the spirits help, he acquired a set of horses, more than enough to hold all the spirits with room to spare and he escorted them back to Mesa. My sister said she will tell me how he fought the ghost panther, an ancient enemy of the spirits who tried to stop them from going home”
“hmm, I got to get him, I like that one, Ohhh! I love that one”
“You got a boyfriend!”
Beebee punch Emae on the arm and continue: “My pa always dress up as him for harvest. Do you know about him?”
EMae shake her head negatively.
“Ned Huddlestone, later Isome Dart, was a thief of the range. He stole thousands of cattle in his lifetime, selling them illegally”
“A real dangerous one”
“Yes, but his early years proved he had a bright future ahead. During the War Between States, he aided hungry Confederate soldiers while freeing enslaved blacks in Arkansas. What whites didn’t know was he was a double agent, thus the two guns he always sported the rest of his life, one for the northerners and one for the southerners. One time, a wicked whitey named Nathaniel Price tried to undo his plan. He was a union soldier whose family once owned Ned. So he tried to stop his switches of food for people. Whenever Ned got boxes of food, he would organize with the Whispers Road”
“Oh I love tales of the Whispers Road”
“As you know, the Whispers Roads communicate by marks on trees or homes, but only the members know the places that are meant to be, but after the slaves reached Ned’s location he placed them in the boxes and prepared them for their journey. That is when Nathaniel Price came. He thought with Ned’s back turned he couldn’t attack him. But, Ned both guns ready, but unsure to which could hit, had to try both. He was in front of a old unused hearth in the shed and waited. Nathanial said to him- I got you know nigger, I will take these messages to the union back to their southern masters and their agent will be undone.”
Beebee then got off the rail and took a pose facing it and continue: “agent, I am no agent to the north or south, my only goal is freeing my people, by any means necessary- and Ned faster than lightning, took a half step forward with one foot, half step backward with another , turned his torso ninety degrees and unleashed both guns and shot them, the two bullets hit off the old hearth, the southern bullet hit a wooden wall somewhere, but the northern bullet reflected straight on to Nathanial Price and through his scheming heart. ”
Beebee then start to walk slow or bowlegged like and continue: “well well, said Ned, it seems you are union after all, well no matter”, and Beebee made gestures with her hands like guns spinning before being holstered and then made a stylish pose. Emae clapped, shaking her legs in the rail. Beebee joined her back on the rail smiling at her successful telling.
They both then cheered seeing a trick and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon show.
Later, Candace is refresh after the afternoon show and meet Emae at a table: “How is Beebee?”
“She’s fine, you were great out there, we will be better than you and Sara one day”
“of course you will, you better”: and Candace smile at Emae, and hand her a breakfast.
“Thank you … ”
“I know, I know, ok, pull the one you want me to talk about… ok… yes, this guy was Bass Reeves”: and Candace give the photo back to Emae.
Candace continue, while she sit and eat an apple: “I never told you about him, well, Bass Reeves was a student of a Black Seminole family, led by their matriarch, Llorando Camino, she was a granddaughter to Osceola and chose to lead the Black Seminoles”
“I know about them”
“yes”: Candace smile:“… the Black Seminoles who were allowed to stay in the territory, while, as you know, the majority of the Black Seminoles followed Jonas Caballo to Mexico and true freedom. Anyway! She taught Bass many things, which she learned in a life fighting US army, bandits, drunkards or any in between, in close combat or the range. After the thirteenth amendment, he left since he didn’t have to worry about being enslaved again, with his skills first and the law second… you want more, well , you better eat and not just look at me talk… he eventually became a us marshall, you see, in the indian territories, many criminals tried to hide and murdered many native americans over the years. Bass never forgot his teacher and helped protect the lands from vile outsiders, one was called Jimmy the Breaker Stone. He came from a family of murderers for hire in europe, known for using their hands to murder people. Jimmy Stone escaped from law enforcers and went into the territory. He was in a cave, only one way in or out, but it had a small break of light inside where it was under a mountain and had a garden in it alongside a stream of water, allowing for food or survival. No one dared go into the Stone Cave as it was known. In the dark, who could face this raw killer. But, Bass Reeves was trained to fight absent the light. He went into the cave with a rope and no gun and three hours later, Jimmy Stone was being dragged out, hogtied. The other law enforcers never forget the face Stone gave Bass, but the words were more potent, The Justice of the Dark… good, nearly finished eating, well I will get ready for my evening show, do you want to wait for me or go back home with grandpa?”
“You please”: say Emae with sandwich in the mouth. Candace shake her head and continue: “alright… have another card ready for the road”: and Candace leave Emae at a table.
Later in the evening, Emae is playing a game on her mobile video game player in the passenger side of the truck while Candace drive them home, smiling.
Emae react to something outside.
“Just thunder and lightning Emae”: calmly say Candace.
“Its so big”
“Ahhh , so you are afraid of thunder and lightning like that”
Emae shake her head in confirmation. Candace pull out a card from her shirt pocket and Emae interest rise. Emae take a flashlight out of her carry bag.
“This is a luxury edition card”
“yes, and who is that”
“Will Pickett, bill pickett bill pickett”
“good… do you know how he bull dogged the white buffalo?”
Emae shake her head in ignorance while smiling.
Candace continue: “do you even know the white buffalo? ”
Emae ask: “Is it a buffalo with white skin?”
“You haven’t been reading the legends book… well, The White Buffalo is not white, it is a buffalo from the spirit world that comes through a gateway made through storms, whenever a storm occurs over these lands, The White Buffalo can come through, all electric”
“Like Storm of the Xmen”
“Right, but with a body made of electricity and the legends say, if he can get through the gateway a storm will persists until he returns… well, one day, all the ranchers heard of a brewing storm. It was growing between Oklahoma, texas, arkansas and louisiana. Every day getting bigger and bigger. Natives said the White Buffalo is free, he must return to his world. But they were prepared to move as they always have been from ancient times. Ranchers complained about the growing storm destroying their livelihoods. Pickett knew as a ranchhand, he will lose pay and didn’t have anywhere to go. So asked a friend Sam Tootall, to help him speak to the Elders and see if he can help. The Elders agreed to see him and told him that The White Buffalo must agree to go back into its world. With so many of the native people murdered they are unwilling to risk their strongest and will leave as in the past. Pickett comprehended and rode a horse to the center of the storm. While the thunder and lightning was a vibrant symphony, the wind was relatively still, at first Pickett thought it wasn’t there but after patiently waiting he cognized a buffalo shape that will appear at times. He had no weapon but he galloped on his horse in a circle within a white brilliance and when he finally caught a moment where his stride, the buffalo’s motion were in synch, he leaped off his horse and grabbed The White Buffalo by the horns. Pickett’s horse immediately left and the Buffalo bucked upwards as if any piece of sky could be its ground and Pickett held on in the clouds and back near the ground again and again, some Natives recall their forebears saying they saw him in the sky russling lightning. Pickett was getting tired and The White Buffalo seemed to have no end of energy. Pickett then noticed inside the mouth of the White Buffalo seemed more solid and he chose to bite on its tongue. The White Buffalo spent wildly but Pickett held on and rasstled him to the ground. The eyes of The White Buffalo were incredulous. Pickett merely smiled and met his gaze, they seemed to speak without words, and pickett let go of the legendary life form and watched as it went through the gateway, and ”
Emae yawn with sleepy eyes.
Candace continue: “you like the story… yeah, good, well, Pickett watched the White Buffalo go past its gate and I will tell you how Pickett was given a task by The White Buffalo later to save its child from the Red Cougar later, pleasant dreams”
Candace watch Emae nodding while sleep, and drove home.
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Sunshine bath Emae in her bed. Suddenly, she get up and exit her room, and run down stairs.
“They are gone for today, Candace said she will bring you to another show later, but she is proud you spent all day with her yesterday”: say an elder female voice in a kitchen, sounds of frying food reverberating. Emae look downward. A male elder speak: “Get washed up Em, and come down for your morning meal”
“ok Grampie”: Emae walk slowly up the stairs.
Fresh, Emae sit down reverse her grandparents. She look to a younger photo of her grandfather.
Emae grandfather turn to the wall and smile:“ are you looking at me Em?”
Emae shake her head in confirmation and say: “yes Grampie”
“Good times, good times”: and he look back to the wall and see another photo.
He continue while looking at his wife: “your grandmothers, father did not like me you know Em”
“Here we go!”: say the Grandmother.
“I am telling it like it is”
Emae smile while eating porridge with fruit in it.
“I wish I could persuade you to not listen to him Em, but I am fully aware that his storytelling ways is part of the myth telling gene in this house”
The Grandfather wink at Emae and say:“Em knows truth when she hear it”
“ok, Hector, convince me, of your truthtelling”: and the Grandmother smile, arms in a fold.
“See it all began when I first met Mr Lemon, I thought it was funny, calling Mr Lemon, Mr Lime when he got angry, but I didn’t realize that his experiences with various citrus were on the adventurous or personal side because of his father Bob Lemon…”
And, Emae sat eating her fruit porridge listening to her Grandfather tell a story to her side her Grandmother.
…Thank you for reading, if you want to read more of my work read below
Bookbub
https://www.bookbub.com/profile/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49
AALBC
https://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/blog/29-richard-murray-hearth/
Poetry or More Audiobook
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/search?query=Poetry%20or%20More&fcsearchfield=Series&seriesId=06baba96-5af5-5d24-9b8a-f06360287dc9
Visasiki Audiobook
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/search?query=Visasiki%20Series&fcsearchfield=Series&seriesId=965aea81-4e13-53fe-8bc8-22fcb6d28a39
Short Story Collection
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/search?query=Richard%20Murray%20Short%20Story%20Collection&fcsearchfield=Series&seriesId=014c67c4-d29d-584e-ada0-62c0fa015714 -
Enjoy my radical racer entry. Click the link to see the wee story behind it.
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Mary Magdalene a little after dawn, in a simple road in the roman empire, recalls her life, and her love.
https://www.deviantart.com/tlacuilopilo/art/Mary-Magdalene-portrait-Maria-Magdalena-333225591
She remembers being the daughter of a craftsman, who was also a successful merchant. People from Egypt to Phrygia sought the wares of Magdala. But while most Jewish girls with her fortune thought of marriage. She sought betterment, she sought activity, she sought a better world.
https://www.deviantart.com/maoliquiao/art/In-suo-nome-528460920
And then her awakening when mercury, the ancient spirit of messages was furthest from the sun in the sky or closest to humanity, she went into the synagogue and proclaimed to the men, standing where women do not, breaking the mechitza barrier. The men felt humiliated, felt belittled, felt they had been dirtied by her presence. The men did not try to listen to her words, try to listen to her wisdom. They only saw a woman who was wrong, and cast her out of the synagogue and threw stones. But she did not die. She was not killed.
https://www.deviantart.com/riekiedp/art/Mary-Magdalene-121544723
Some did not throw stones because they knew her father, some did not throw stones because they knew her, and a strong body was enough to crawl back to her home. Her father was worried. He knew the village will look on her suspiciously and will want to control her life. He told her she must go, to be free, from the eventual persecutions that will come toward her. He knew fully well; he could not protect her when he was away from all harms. And so, she left Magdala. On the road, she met another Mary, many jewish women were named Mary, but this woman was quiet. Her husband was a craftsman and she was delivering a craft to a friend. She saw the Mary from Magdala and her spirit seemed familiar. The older Mary went over to the younger and they talked. The younger Mary talked about a vision she had of a future without boundaries, absent the shackles that bind humanity. The elder Mary asked the younger Mary if she wants to talk to others who may listen. The younger Mary said yes, as they embraced.
https://www.deviantart.com/rmarwdraws/art/Mary-and-Mary-Magdalene-847094143
The elder Mary spoke to the inn keep who knew her husband and said to tell her husband she will not be back, but she is safe. Over the next few weeks, Mary Magdalene became well known amongst the disenfranchised or abused women of Palestine. She even was able to communicate to her father who supported her quietly. One day a woman asked, what will all this talk do when we have to go back to the men who abuse us. Mary Magdalene asked elder Mary, is it possible, these women can go to her home on the way south, free from the Jewish rules, in Egypt or beyond. The elder Mary agreed. When the two Mary arrived at the elder Mary's home, they were accompanied by forty women, and a sunlight. A sunlight that can waken anyone from any sleep. Mary bathed in the light, still, and saw a man.
https://www.deviantart.com/springergirl07/art/Mary-Magdalene-172730760
He did not need to speak, but his walk seemed so gentle. The elder Mary told Mary Magdalene, this man is her son, Jesus. Mary Magdalene knew this man's calling. She realized what he can do. In a world where men cannot accept leadership from a woman, she saw a man who can, while giving men the face they need to be led a better way. And she gathered the woman in the sunlight with Jesus as the elder Mary watched, and her husband, Joseph, beamed with pride. From town to town, the women of Mary Magdalene spread the gospel or good news of Jesus. Where lepers were isolated, Mary and her women healed or comforted and Jesus was said to do it. Where people were said to be dead, Mary and her women tended them back to life and Jesus was said to do it. When men did not fish properly, Mary and her women, worked the nearby seas aiding the fisherman, and Jesus was said to do it. Mary had watched her movement grow. From one woman, to two women, to a group that threatened the order of things for the Jewish priests. Over time, men like Judas, became part of Mary's apostles, telling the other women, let those without sin cast the first stone. But other men came, at the behest of the jewish priest. Twelve of them came, who knew Jesus was not the miracle worker gossiped or rumored, but it was Mary Magdalene who needed to be stopped. Mary spoke with Jesus and told him, if he rejects these men it will destroy his image and all the work they have done. Thus, Jesus accepted these new apostles and though they tried to corrupt Jesus with gold or positions, he never wavered from the path Mary gave him, for he and Mary were already one in spirit, done beyond a temple/synagogue or place of worship. A simple ceremony under the sun. In desperation the twelve agents of the Jewish Priest, abducted Jesus and put him in the position of a Jewish murderer paying the roman guard to allow the switch. Mary tried to find him; her network unable to access the roman prisons. And then she heard a rumor that a jewish murderer had boasted he was freed for Jesus in a bar. Mary then realized what had happened. But it was too late. When she saw Jesus crucified for another man's crimes, she knew it was a sign.
https://www.deviantart.com/dinahmite64/art/The-Eternal-Salvation-Through-His-Passion-598224678
She thought a caring, honest, loving man could be the face of a movement of women. But as she watched his bleeding body, she knew, that asked too much of him. Her father's kindness saved her from stoning the first time. Jesus's love saved her from death the second time. She must have cried all night. The next morning, Jesus's mother woke her. She wanted to know where her son was buried. The two Mary's went to the tomb and Mary Magdalene held her stomach and touched the stone covering the tomb. Suddenly, she had a feeling. And when she turned, she saw her husband. It was like the first time she met him. His mother cried and Mary Magdalene hand embraced his, and she had an epiphany.
https://www.deviantart.com/eldidechabo/art/Jesus-Mary-Magdalene-MSPaint-135772731
The two Mary's went back to Nazareth and spread the final gospel, that Jesus was resurrected. The twelve spies weeks later, checked to see if the tomb was empty... and it was. They went to Nazareth to confront either Mary or Joseph but none were there. They had left. The twelve searched and searched and eventually found the male member Judas. He tried to find a woman like Mary to start a new group, with him in the role of Jesus, but was unsuccessful. The twelve tortured Judas but he either did not know or was strong enough to not say the location to any member of Mary Magdalene's sect. The twelve eventually became the originators of Christianity, using remnants of what they experienced, pieces of a true movement to create another, all the while in awe to what they knew.
... while Mary seeing the child between her and Jesus running to her end her remembering
https://www.deviantart.com/tlacuilopilo/art/Mary-Magdalene-portrait-Maria-Magdalena-333225591
And, she smiles, in a new town, far from palestine, or the twelve spies, in the outskirts of the roman empire.
... today, few know the truth of Mary Magdalene, the movement she started, or its times. But, the children of her enemies cannot even deny, she was gifted, she had spirit. And, for now, that is enough, for tomorrow will be brighter, and it will shatter all lies with truth.
...
...
Hope you enjoyed reading
If you like more of my stories check out the gospel of joseph
https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/gospel-of-joseph
or other stories in my Short story collection series
Or poetry in my poetry or more series
And I am on Bookbub
https://www.bookbub.com/authors/richard-murray-16885e64-6c28-459e-bf5f-45c7d458ce49
My blog
https://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/blog/29-richard-murray-hearth/
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I love your cute graphic:) will share:)
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On 7/14/2020 at 10:38 AM, Mel Hopkins said:
Sheets tremor as the phone left on the bed beckons attention.
thanks @Mel Hopkins I am not receiving notifications on the webpage here, only through the email
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The database in the mind define: harmony as a positive fit, harmonies as two or more positive fit, harmonic as an attribute given to a thing if it make two or more fit pleasantly or have harmonies, harmonica as a harmonic musical instrument.
The database in the mind has no knowledge of the insignia on the harmonica, nor can the sensors in the eyes tell when it was made.
The database in the mind has the original video clip of the ancient hand the harmonica came from, shared to all through the dream link, all today are born with.
The database in the mind is of TheRom; a dark, electronic hobo, whose piezoelectric heart is enlivened by the symphonic vibratos of the cans/body parts/toys/trinkets/ or other objects varying in definability that hang about its frame.
While most today look up to the sky in their routine in ancient lands, TheRom began the travel in times before, when said lands were called global cities that shined like suns under the moon. And TheRom continues through civilizations gone and current around earth, breathing life into what fits perfectly to its heart. Is its destination the future? No, its destination is beyond.
Inspired by flash fiction from Thaddeus Howze https://thowze.carrd.co/
based on artwork from Dan G A Goiz https://www.artstation.com/artwork/Bm3WQz
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Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, wherever you are listening, I am richard murray and I have a question for anyone who is listening. The question will only require a sentence to answer. I promise.
I want us to make an anthology , not of complete stories or short films but sentences. An anthology of sentences, all you need to do is comment to this tumble to add to it. But! wait, before you type in , Rich shut up, :) I want you to hear the question to be answered.
The question for this anthology of sentences is... drumroll:)
If the title of a book is the following, what is the first sentence, or the first line in the book, the title of the book is, On March thirteenth in the year two thousand and twenty Breonna Taylor was not murdered by Louisville police but lived?... what is the first line of the book with that title? I placed mine in the comments section. Please let us make an anthology together.In the midnight hour, the moon over the city of Louisville Kentucky showers on it a romantic light, a resting EMT worker, left breast held by her boyfriend, feel a gentle nibble in her ear.
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@Troy@Mel Hopkins@Cynique maybe AALBC community can do something together ? Wild idea throw, a panel on black owned websites?
thoughts @Sarah Gordon Weathersby @sabine ziya@Maame Dede maybe shesolidarity panel on womens empowerment in comics? @rosa@Uniquelymade7 @Lauretha Ward@Neftali Rivera Jr@Jasonnicholson05@M'Bwebe@Tyr1Jax@zetkabawn
FIYAHCON is a virtual convention centering the perspectives and celebrating the contributions of BIPOC in speculative fiction.
Put in your email to get updates! Hop around the website and see all the features we have coming your way. Get involved! We're looking forward to bringing this to SFF BIPOC fam
https://theconvention.fiyahlitmag.com/
ACTIVITIEs
The Meloscriptorium- add a spotify song, good idea to get your name in the list- add a song
Chef’s Tables- host recipes from your kitchen, discuss food as a vital element of world building- host a show
The Tea House- a place for small gatherings
Panels + Presentations - for panels to discuss topics- suggest one
Office Hours- one on one meetings, suggest you be a host
Workshops- 1 to 2 hosts doing an interactive learning session - host one
https://theconvention.fiyahlitmag.com/features/
GET INVOLVES
Volunteer
Submit an idea to program OR place yourself for consideration
Host an office hour
Add to the MELOSCRIPTORIUM -
https://theconvention.fiyahlitmag.com/get-involved/-
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July 4th is past but I ask all, at the end of the war of secession from the british empire by the thirteen american colonies, three groups of black people existed in the thirteen american colonies now the united states of america. Enslaved black people in the usa, black soldiers for the usa, black soldiers for the british.
The enslaved black people in the usa represented a majority of the population of black people in the usa, I say over ninety percent. They were enslaved before said war, during said war and after said war.
The second largest groups is the black soldiers for britian, they would be allowed to leave for what is now known as canada. They were enslaved or free before said war, free during said war, free after said war.
The third largest group is the black soldiers for the usa, who had to return to enslaved situations. They were enslaved or free before said war, free during said war, enslaved after said war.
The question is simple:
Has the Black community in the usa repeated the mistake of the black soldiers of the 13 colonies throughout its existence in the usa?
Good News Blog - stories through a year
in Richard Murray Hearth
A blog by richardmurray in General
Posted
It is the shortest night in Avare, in Sao Paulo in Brazil, a farmer walk to a simple orange tree, growing away from the grove. The sun sets and the stars brighten as they get their chance to gather. The farmer begins to grab stars and place them into the tree, where they can talk and gossip the news across eons.
The farmer listen into a faint star dangling low near the base of the tree.
"I recall the Lonely Man, the two Weepers and the Three Brothers of the Rim, looking across my universe...the glare of our light never allowing him to see anything ahead, his back eternally fixed"
"...He was still looking out, when I came here, bitter, angry"
The farmer walk out to the edge of the tree and grab a star, and it speak to him.
"I am a member of the Golden Ladle... my cousins, the dippers, tell me many sailors find their way, using them, on this world...but I know a world where the skies decides where the sailors sail"
"A sky of said world tried to discover what effect we stars had on their fellow skies. It measured distances and changes, the sailors of said world loved that sky cause it was calm at sea level, allowing the lesser winds to govern the actions above the sparkling sea... that begins the legend of Narda the sailor and the seas of night... now place me there"
And the farmer, place the star where it gleamed to. Suddenly, a number of stars laughed on a lengthy branch. And the farmer edged close to overhear a particularly glinty star
"...alright, alright, remember all of you flashes, everything I say is the truth... I once saw the spirit of the existence, that is right... the spirit of existence, which turned from a star brighter than my dreams into some image of a fleshy female creature, was talking gibberish."
"Everything the spirit said was gibberish, just a flickering about. I asked it, what is the problem? That is right, I am a gentlestar. The spirit suggested some fleshy male creature, tricked it. I said impossible. I told the spirit of existence, my cousin is what those fleshies call the north star, if it shine bright with me, it will forget all of the tricks of the crawlers. So, the spirit of existence, chose to shine with me. Yes, that is right, it shined with me, and me alone. No one else saw because the rest of you were busy talking to yourselves, not gleaming all around you. I of course, am aware of what is going on and saved all your lives. The spirit even touched me with a flare. Yes, it did and said, my simple focus inspired it to select me to have a child. We will call it, Horus or Hercules or something. Shut up Cassia! Your just mad you didn't get a chance with the spirit"
And the farmer chose to move on and pick another star. For when the night end, only oranges will exist where the stars were. A juice not to be sold, but savored.
If you enjoy my stories and want to read more consider the following
Illustrated fables, from a city near you
https://www.kobo.com/ebook/concrete-fables
The Goods News through the year- stories throughout the calendar
https://aalbc.com/tc/blogs/entry/261-december-solstice-art-or-text-craft-parade-good-news-blog/