Musical Musings 5/20/2016

Evening Musings:

I’ve been staring out the window at night a lot, of late. The sky replete with her wondrous and vivid mysteries. Our clandestine meetings…. Playing coy with her shades, her colors, muted, but breathtaking. Teasing. Beckoning. Speaking. What will she tell me, tonight?

The moon shouted my name across a cloud, reaching me as a whisper, saying things; haunting things; beautiful things. “What is music? “, I dared ask. It was the question on my mind. A star twinkled, and made a discernible sound- the voice of a small child’s glorious giggle, peeking around the seemingly vanished embers of the sun.

“You tell me?” The voice searing lightly across constellations had countered. I searched my cerebral Thesaurus. I needed intelligent, mystical verbiage for this conversation, but nothing. “Come on! You’re smarter than this”, Crystal said to Cryss. I acquiesced, thinking, “maybe not”. The thing I love, the thing I crave, the thing that is…. I can’t find the words. The lexicon I’ve loved had failed me.

A silent and melodic breeze played my vertical blinds like Brahms’ Lullaby. Lillith perched angrily by, a silenced Banshee, still stewing over the one she couldn’t get. The one covered in the Blood.

It started in my chest. A tickling, as buzzing sensation. Working its way through every nerve, every pore, every fiber; bone, cartilage, sinew- flowing like liquid joy.

You see, I was singing all along. We were singing a harmonious duet. Ah, sky, there’s your answer. See you tomorrow night.

Vizionairee Jones-2016

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Remembrances 

Writing feels so good. Been ages since I’ve written a poem, a song, anything AD CAUSA. I feel both renewed and infantile -regaining some things, exploring uncharted territory . Letting go of some things that I’ve gripped so tightly, for so long, my metaphorical fingers have been crushed, bones decimated.

Learning to grab hold to new things with new hands. Allowing my third eye to truly see, as it should, sans fear of what it sees.

Guillaume Apollonaire wrote, “Come to the edge, he said. They said: We are afraid. Come to the edge, he said. They came. He pushed them and they flew.”

Indeed they did – so shall I.
I would be remiss if I retired this evening without thanking my Lord, my Savior, my Redeemer, my Mighty Fortress; Jesus, The Christ. I am so very blessed. God grants me favor, and consistently DEMONSTRATES HIS unconditional love; even when I’m compellingly, overtly unworthy. He is the Great Orchestrator, and I am humbled to be one of the many instruments He uses to create the music that is the human experience.

We are each our own instruments, and our parts have been composed, created, and imagined, just for us. We play with different styles, as we’ve been taught/learned in different ways. However, there can be no complete song, no masterpiece, no melodies, no harmonies, no triumphant finale…… if we don’t realize were even playing the same song-the song of pure love, one, for another.

Vizionairee 2016

An Excerpt from The Shepherd Into Hell. Upcoming Horror Novel by Joseph Norris III

Excerpt from upcoming Novel,  

     The Shepherd Into Hell,

                 by Joseph Norris 

(A Collective Press Client-@CollPressCJ)

“The miasma of death filters from the car, along with the werewolf’s triumphant howl, warning and announcing the horrors yet to come.”

Check out his Facebook pages 

@The Shepherd Into Hell 

@Writetoscare on Facebook and Twitter

Farewell, Obama 

​So, it’s taken me months to figure what I should say, concerning the end of the Obama Presidency. Nothing in my head. Go figure, a Writer with no words. So, I went to my lover- MUSIC. 

“CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON

THERE’LL BE PEACE, WHEN YOU ARE DONE

LAY YOUR WEARY HEAD TO REST

DON’T-CHA CRY NO MORE…..”
CARRY ON, YOU WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER, CARRY ON

NOTHING EQUALS THIS MADNESS

NOW, YOUR LIFE’S NO LONGER EMPTY

SURELY HEAVEN WAITS FOR YOU…”

Thank you, Barack Hussein Obama, and family. I remember openly weeping, on the day of your inauguration, and having someone ask me why. Why? Because I saw Jessie Jackson weeping, and knew he was remembering standing two/three feet away, as a bullet ripped through the face and head of Dr. King. I wept because I NEVER thought I’d see it, in my lifetime.  Because, Michelle Obama is not just your wife, mother of your children, and awesome FLOTUS, but A LADY. Our girls need to see those examples. Because of Dr. King, John Lewis, Rev. Ralph Abernathy, Andrew Young, Jessie Jackson, Freedom Fighters, Abolitionists, Harriet Tubman, Frederick Douglass, Thurgood Marshall…. Because of each and every person, who’s name never made the paper, or the news, or the history books. Because we may never see the likes again. 

Because my Mommiekins lived to see it. A Woman who used to have to enter establishments through back doors, if she were allowed in, at all.

I’ve always understood citizenship, intellectually. I’ve cried because of things said, and done to me, because of the color of my skin. Sometimes, it was so subtle, I wasn’t even aware. 

Make no mistake, I’m scrappy, like my Mommiekins. Injustice does not sit well with me, AT ALL. A pen and some paper in my hands….

Back then, my Mommiekins went TO the fight. She began the dialogue. She knew every local government phone number that began with 396 (lol). Mostly alone, she called wrote and didn’t let up until she’d affected change. I often stayed at home wondering why she would risk her health like that. She made me go with her many times, ignoring my ire. Freezing cold, at Annapolis. Downtown, Uptown. Talking to Councilmen and Women. Still didn’t GET IT. She said we elected them, now they have to do their jobs.

I GET IT, MOMMIEKINS. Thank you. It is now, in my heart, and will always manifest itself in my actions. 

That’s why I cried then, that’s why I cry now.

Barack Obama, Carry on, Sir.

“Carry On Wayward Son” – Kansas