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MIDDLE PASSAGE AND THE MEMORIES OF A SLAVE~~~Fiction by Riveroflifelisajoy

Ma name is John Smith.

Ah, been in dis here plantation since a

was a young chile..sold offin’

my Mama befo’ I was ten.

But Ah memba’ my Mama face

and my Mama hands.

My Mama face wuz brown

tired and sad. 

She wore a ole’ faded

red head rag.   She would

take me wid her to clean

the chicken coups

and feed the cows.

Ah would play and chase

the chickens!

One day the master

of  da house came and

picked me out from

ma friends and told

my Mama it wuz time

fo’ me to go!

I wuz too big to

be playin’ anymo’.

The master sent ole’

Joe, the helper to carry me off

to the market to be

sold. 

Ah cried and kicked and

screamed fo’ my

Mama. 

She just stood a lookin’

after me and did not

move to help me!

Ah watched my Mama

grow tiny as the horse,

cart  pulled me and the otha’ slaves who

was packed into it away from

my birth plantation to a

new and dangerous beginin’!

Ah wuz sold to the Williams.

Mr. Williams was kind, but

his son was the mean one.

He liked to beat slaves fo’ nuthin’

and then leave um to die if they

put up a fuss.

He would jus’ buy mo’

slaves the next day.

The Williams plantation

was a cotton plantation.

Hard work, pickin’ cotton,

cuts up yo’ hands and stuff.

Ah grew big and strong.

I could carry three times my weight

on a good day.

So young master Williams took

good care uh me. 

But ah hated ta see

my friends suffer so.

One day we heard of the

UNDERGROUND RAILROAD.

Ah  decided to run awa’.

No, Ah told ye, that Master Williams

wuz good to me.  Ah just wanted to see

my Mama so bad.

Ah did not care about good treatment.

Ah wanted to be free! 

Ah made a chance run fo’ it

one night.

Ah wuz tryin’ ta meet

up wid the UnderGround RailRoad

in the forest.

Ah, made a mistake.

I told ole’ Buck, who curries the

Master’s horses.  He warn’ me

not to try it!  Ah, told him to minds his business!

I could out run any dog, or horse….cause the master

fed me the best food cause ah carried the heavy loads and pulled

plows when the horses went lame.

Sos’  I think that is why I wuz caught so fast.

When they draggs’ me back to the

plantation, there was ole’ Buck a lookin’

at me.  From a distance he kept gettin’

bigger, and bigger.  He stood right at

the wipping post and look at me….just starin’

and shaking his ole’ grey head.

When they tied me up I could see dried

blood where other slaves had been beat.

It wuz a cloudy day.

It wuz a hot night.

They found me in the day and wup me

deep into da night.

Young Master Williams took a break

from his workin’ my back, and

then told his workers to continue on

till the next mornin’ just wupin’

my back.

I stop yellin’ and then I don’t

member nothin after dat.

All I know is that I found ma’self

sittin up here wit Jesus, and da

Angels.

Oh, and I found Mama too!

Except  she got a big smile on

huh face, and she wearing a white

dress and she don’t look tired no’ mo’.

Fini~~~

Fiction Depiction of Slavery

by Riveroflifelisajoy

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She’s Back! Wendy Williams of the Wendy Williams Experience- DA DA DA DAAAAA! The Queen of All Media! Sounds Positive and Strong

Today while driving and thinking on my own personal issues I switched from  Hot 97 for HIP/HOP music and checked in on Wendy!  Well,  despite the issues of the Nicole Spence complaint Wendy is still on the air. 

 She sounds like herself, and she and Charlemagne are Yuck, yuck,  yucking it Up!  Talking about advice hour, and Wendy answering her own telephones. 

 It seemed almost like nothing negative had ever been talked about on Hot 97 from jealous Ms. Jones.  It seemed like the shocking news had never been.  And I wished it were true.  But through it all Wendy has stood tall. 

 The first few days she appeared stressed and let her listening audience know it.  She really does talk to her audience.  Yesterday Wendy stated,  “I don’t trust people!”  I silently agreed with her in my head for my own reasons. 

 I hope that she deals honestly with her situation.  You know….she is like the “friend in  my head” radio personality.  Although I would probably never tell anybody some of the things she has been known to say or discuss. 

Wendy would ask the questions I would never ask.   Some or many of  Wendy ‘s  opinions I do not agree with but are food for thought on alot of levels.  You can learn from just about any body.   But anyway,  I digress….So Wendy and Charlemagne sounded like their old selves today. 

Thank G-d for second,  third, and fourth chances….uh….Howard Stern……uh….Don Imus….uh Shock Jock that harressed Hot 97 side kick of Ms. Jones in the morning….(what is that guy’s name anywhooo?) 

Think about it fellow bloggers….

Till next time

riveroflifelisajoy

P.S.  Maybe Tyler Perry should write a play about  Black Journalist, and the lives they live….Oh,  forgot….Wendy  has her own  movie coming out!  —When is that movie set?   Summer time seems like a good idea?!

I  can’t wait to see that movie about Wendy Williams and her life.  Ca’mon Ms. Jones @ Hot 97….make your movie too!    Get  moving!   Maybe even get a  perfume deal too!

LOLOL!   Till next blog…..

COTTON MOUTH

Jay Jewels Cry FOR HUMANITYDry like the parchment of the

scroll of a writ

of so long ago

Thousands of years

hid away

Moments in the hands of

an anthropologist

crackling under his

sweaty palms

grasp

the dry old parchment

will melt away

if not put in sealed

archival containers

dry like the old linen dress

of yesteryear

like a ball of cottom in my mouth

the medical diagnosis

has come and gone

and now my sensations are

minimized

except for the diagnosis

pain that is ripping its’

way deep into my heart.

Trying to explain to my

child that he has to

take medication to save his

life.

Cotton mouth,

loss of taste for the

things you love.

Loss of sensation in my

feet and hands

Sitting I type not

feeling, not

wanting to feel the pain

deep searing a tunnel through

my stomach

I feel full,

gas overcomes my belly

cotton mouth

prevents me from

eating

like the fullness of

emptiness I hold

deep in my belly to

unfold until I scream from

pain and agony

Take the truth,

dealt the truth

no compassion

was the final blow

given

lost in a new

hell

fear of the unknown and

the diagonosis compells

the rickety fence of hell to

open and reveal the ominous

cavern that threatens to swallow

us whole

We must proceed my child

we must go in

Cotton mouth,

sweaty palms,

sweaty feet,

sudden compulsion to

release bodily fluids,

fight or flight sydrome

in full affect

compel me oh Lord

toward the light

Let taste return

Cotton Mouth–

I cannot swallow

for the diagnosis

itself is not paletable

The diagnosis was

given with such cold

precision like the blade

of the surgeons knife

Hold my hand my child

walk together we will

toward the tower of hell

but together we will

climb to heaven

despite the steely grasp of the  Cotton mouth!

Wonderful!

nature-meets-construction-by-riveroflifelisajoy-number-two-scan.jpgWonderful I said. 

Yes,  Just Wonderful!

The weather is bright,

The moon is just right……

Wonderful!

But yet—I cry.

Why me I said,

the child of mine lays

flat on the bed.

The sun is shining brightly outside

his bedroom window.

We were just getting ready to go home

And he became ill.

Wonderful, I had said,

Marvelous, Great Fantastic

I thought and then

he was prone

attacked by a seizure.

“I Need Help!  I Need Help!  I NEED HELP!  I NEED HELP!

Was all I could say

I wanted to wail,

and scream and

drive that evil away!

I can’t watch, I can’t see

the Evil wretch which

threatened and attacked

my fifteen yearold baby!

So what?…that  he is fifteen….does it matter?

If your husband, or wife take ill….does it

matter that he or she is 50 years old?  or 35  years old?

Sickness, disease….NEVER come at the right time!

Death does not live in a life of reason

or ryhme….So please do not

ask me, or chide me and say….HOW OLD IS YOUR SON?

For when he lay prone against the hospital bed, and nothing left

to be said—-Look at him with love, look at him

with compassion…..for your family, your friends could be

sick tomorrow or the

day after…..just pray for me today

Don’t say, Well, he IS 15!

Well, a lady whose  husband passed away at the age of 45 from a massive

heart attack was older….and the loss is deep, and troubling nonetheless…..–Remember Jack Ritter who died from a Massive Heart tear?— from

Three’s Company Fame?—Everyone Cared…and Cried

all the same!

Just   offer a hand or a hug of compassion,

and  a  gentle breeze of concern….

Do not dismiss my challenge with

How Old is he?  Even if he were age 18—-he still would need MY help!

Yes, he is still my child….

So yes,  Wonderful!


It truly is Wonderful…when people can be responsive in a most

pleaseant way.

Why don’t you try that approach

today?

P.S.  

THANKYOU SYNDER CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL @ LongIsland Jewish for helping my son—No matter what his Age!

FINI!

—-Riveroflifelisajoy