Category: MY MEMOIRS

Nia

بِسْــــــــــــــــــمِ اﷲِالرَّحْمَنِ اارَّحِيم

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Dearly Beloved Brothers and Sisters of Allah’s Chosen People
The So-Called American Negroes of the Asiatic Tribe of Shabazz

Nia means “Purpose” in Kiswahili.

I am learning day by day what Allah’s Purpose for me is in life.

My purpose, just like every other Black person on the Earth,
Is to Submit to the Will of Allah.

His Will For Me is to Help Him Raise the Mentally Dead So-Called American Negroes

And I am a Muslim; so Willingly or Unwillingly I MUST submit.

He Has Me In ATLANTA, THE CAPITAL OF GEORGIA, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

And it is getting very interesting.

Allah Told Me Years Ago Who My Soulmate Is, Which Makes Me Very Lucky.

Because I’m not looking.

But instead of pairing me with my Soulmate right now,
Which will bring about an end to my Ministering,
He Has Me Playing “Girlfriend” To Other Brothers,
Raising Them Up To Higher Standards.

It Never Goes Past The
“Getting To Know You”
Stage
Because They’re Not My Soulmate.

That’s my favorite part of Love.
It’s New and Exciting and Fun and Interesting
And I Thrive in that Arena!

It Just Gets To Wherever Their Level Is.
I Bring Them There;
Tell Them What They Need To Do To Advance;
They Get Pissed;
I Get Bored;
And
I
Go
Back
To
My
Husband
.
❤

ATL

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Dearly Beloved Asiatic Black Brothers and Sisters! 😀

My blog has changed so much, Al Hamdulillah! The Blackman has more powerful brains than the Blackwoman because he was created to rule! There was a time when I used to get really upset when I found out about a Brother visiting my website. frfr I used to send them messages and tell them my blog is just for Black women and girls and don’t visit unless you are a single father of a girl. But my website is mostly Islam and Brothers need it more than the Sisters. So, I’m not trippin’ anymore. 🙂

So anyway, Brothers and Sisters.

I’m in Atlanta. Things went EXTREMELY different than how I had planned. But as the Holy Qur’an says, “We plan and Allah Plans. Surely Allah is THE BEST OF PLANNERS!”

My living situation in L.A. was not conducive to my spiritual growth. Don’t get me wrong. I loved my roommates much. Paul, Shaun, Mr. Turner, Mr. Willie, Janine, Jaiy were all cool. Even the devil was tolerable (believe it or not, but Our Saviour, Master Fard Muhammad, To Whom Praises are due forever, lived with devils so I gave it a try and was successful) but I’m a Muslimah and living with men is not healthy to my spirit. So, I planned to move in June. I was just going to get my own apartment. Allah Blesses the child who has her own, The Messenger (PBUH) Taught. But I really hate living alone. It’s so BORING!!! Even with all the challenges that come with having roommates. I would rather do that than live alone.

Life is proving to me what Allah’s Purpose is for me, at least until I marry Amad-Jamal, My Honey-Stick! ❤ ❤ ❤

I call myself, “Sojourner Love” 🙂  My hateful Aunt used to call me Boll Weevil mockingly. I used to hate that! In fact, I used to hate alot of stuff she used to do. But my biological family is disgraceful and I hate them… Anyway, Gods move around. We don’t stay in one place for too long. You start to decay and soon you’ll be “stinkin’” LOL as they say in ATL.

So, I’ve been wanting to come to Atlanta since the nineties when Freaknic was crackin’ but I didn’t have the courage to travel like I have now back then. I had my daughter too, now that I think about it. I wasn’t ready.

Then last January (2015), I had planned to come, but when I got to the Greyhound Station, Allah (SWT) Instructed me to go to Vegas instead.

Then I was going to go again, but Allah Told me to got to New Orleans instead. ❤

Then when I came home, I thought I was going to be in L.A. for awhile, at least I didn’t know I was going to be leaving town so quickly. But, I’m learning that Allah (swt) is rather spontaneous. And He Doesn’t Give Me A lot of time to change my mind or think too hard about what He Instructs Me To Do.

So instead of finding my own apartment, in L.A. at least, He Told Me, Since I’m moving anyway, I might as well come to Atlanta.

So here I am!!!!

It’s difficult being a “wayfarer” as the Holy Qur’an calls us. You are completely dependent on Allah. I had planned to stay in a shelter because rent and hotels can drain your bank account in a couple of weeks.

But when I alighted Allah Had Other Plans.

I spent the first couple of days trying to find permanent shelter.

I was going to go to a shelter as soon as I arrived, but one of the cab drivers insisted that I go to the Mosque. I agreed because Muslims are “supposed” to take care of visiting Muslims. But the first one I went to was built by hypocrites and they are nauseating because Allah Has blinded them to the fact that they are hypocrites, so I just shine them on.

If Allah leaves them in their inordinacy; there is nothing I can do for them. I just try and save myself from their deception, which is all I can do.

Then I went to another Masjid in Five Points, (which is the Hot Spot in Atl as far as Black people are concerned) and there’s an African Imports Store, for lack of a better term, right next door. The Masjid was closed when I arrived, so I went into the store, and would you know that the proprietor told me Muhammad from Taj Mahal on Crenshaw is his uncle!!! SMALL WORLD.

I bought some cocoa butter, black soap and oils, but the oils were watered down. 😦 I’m going to tell him about that, because people who buy oils can tell and it cuts out on his business AND makes him look bad which is bad for their whole family.

So, I was kind of FORCED to go to the non-Muslim shelter, but they told me the shelter was full!!! So, now, I’m really destitute, and when you’re homeless, your constant thought is where am I going to spend the night??? It’s cool until about 3 am (if your nocturnal like I am. But around 3 you need to be indoors, everything is closed and danger lurks) So, I’m heavily thinking about my next move and I decide my best bet would be to go back downtown where it is more densely populated. And a young Brother had told me where I could find a cheap hotel.

But I had seen downtown from a distance, and it reminded me of New Orleans so much, but bigger. Something about New Orleans is spooky. It’s like there’s an evil spirit over the whole city. And I got the same feeling here in Atlanta. It looks deserted. Like a ghost town.

So, I looked in the direction of downtown and I got a chill but My Saviour, Allah, Master Fard Muhammad, To Whom Praises Are Due Forever, Told Me, “ME, AND ME ALONE, SHOULD YOU FEAR.” So, I took a deep breath and with no fear began my descent into Hell.

So, I was walking toward downtown when, like a mirage, I saw an oasis in the middle of the desert. Up above all the other buildings, I saw a minaret reaching toward the sky. I couldn’t believe it at first, because I had had a similar experience in NOLA and it turned out to be a church. But as I neared, to my astonishment, it turned out to be the most beautiful Masjid I had ever seen.

With trepidation, I didn’t go in the main entrance. I like to check out new buildings before just entering. So, I took a roundabout way in. They had a school, which was a good omen. But I was still hesitant. Going to a new mosque can be intimidating. It would be nice to have an escort or some sort of person to show you around, but I’ve been to A LOT of Masjids in different states, so I feel comfortable, but I was still a little hesitant.

So, slowly I walked near, but I was unstable in my steps, and from behind me a young Brother from across the waters, shows up from nowhere, and picks up my luggage, carries it down and then up the stairs and points me in the direction of the Sisters’ entrance. Al Hamdulillah!!!

So, I go in, remove my shoes and sit down in the first room I encountered. There was a rack with silk brocade sheets dividing the men from the women, but you could still see through and I felt very uncomfortable, but I had no where else to go, so I tried to make the best of a bad situation.

Then someone started calling the Adhan and this Brother comes and opens the curtain completely. I was embarrassed, and ashamed. Brothers are not supposed to see the Sisters and I felt so cheap. That was my first red flag that this mosque was just beautiful on the outside.

There was a sign that said, “Sisters Upstairs” but I couldn’t find any stairs leading upstairs. and no one bothered to show me. But Al Hamdulillah, I found an elevator.

The Sisters Prayer Room was beautiful. I’ve read in the comments section online about this masjid that it could be the most beautiful Masjid in America!

Coincidentally, my first day in town, was the first day of Ramadan. So, after awhile the Mosque was filled to capacity. But not until I had had a time to clear my head and relax. AND FREE DINNER WAS GUARANTEED FOR A MONTH!!! AL HAMDULILLAH!!!

I saw a Sister lay down and go to sleep, so I thought MAYBE, I could spend the night here. But, the hypocrites had infiltrated this Mosque too and though the Ramadan Service ended at midnight (which was fortunate for me because the Sun would be up in a few hours), I layed down, hoping they would see my need and allow me to spend the night. I wasn’t going to beg. They love that.

People take advantage of people in need. I call them predators who prey on the poor. Our Savior, Master Fard Muhammad, To Whom Praises Are Due Forever, Calls them , “The Bloodsuckers of the Poor.” And it’s true. They don’t want to help you unless they can get something out of you. Especially being a woman. I’ve had so many ignorant men try to make me their hoe. They just don’t know. It makes me stronger.

But this hypocrite woman, came shaking me, “Sister, Sister!!! You can’t spend the night here!” “You gotta go!“

So, deliberately taking my time, I gather my luggage. They turn off the lights, then this Brother from Africa (who was just as evil) comes in with a flashlight.

The Sister followed me after I managed to give the African the slip, and made sure I left.

But ALLAH IS THE BEST PLANNER!!!!

I managed to give HER the slip too! Al Hamdulillah! Allah Provided Me With A Space that was bigger than the room I had in L.A. LOL!!!!!! ALLAHU AKBAR!!!!

I went to the Masjid again and the Sister comes up to me, “Sister, did you get some dinner the other night? Do you want me to bring you a plate?”

I looked at her incredulously. But this is the behaviour of hypocrites that I have become accustomed to. I said, “Don’t come up acting all friendly like I don’t remember how you treated me the other night.“

“Oh Sister, it’s against the rules for Sisters to sleep in the Mosque!“

“Well, it’s a stupid rule.“

“I didn’t make the rules.“

“Well, you’re enforcing them. Where I come from visiting Muslims are allowed to sleep in the Masjid.“

“Well, we don’t do that here.“

“I know because ya’ll are hypocrites. What would Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) do? Would he throw a Muslim out of the Masjid to sleep on the street?“

“Sisters aren’t allowed to sleep in the Mosque.”

“Didn’t Aisha (Prophet Muhammad’s (PBUH) wife) sleep in the Mosque? Didn’t Mary, the Mother of Jesus, sleep in the Mosque?“

“Well, you’re not Mary.”

“I say, ‘La illah illah llah’ (THERE IS NO GOD BUT ALLAH!) just like Mary.“

She walked away then and took a seat.

Some people hate to see you win.

But Allah is The Best Knower.

And He is sufficient for me.

So, my spot is cool and I start getting really comfortable. TOO comfortable. LOL

The third day, I’m moving my stuff in. Knowing I’m not supposed to start unpacking, but sometimes I get impulsive. So, I’m reorganizing my stuff and this wheelchair rolls up. I froze. Hoping he would just roll out. But he wheeled in more and I thought, “I’m dead.” All I could think about was where am I going to sleep??

The Brother turned out to be so cool.

He told me he had slept there too. LOL, but if the Imam found out (and the Imam told him to tell him to tell anybody he found sleeping there to come to him!) he wouldn’t be so kind.

He didn’t tell me he would tell the Imam, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t. Yet and still, I had a little time, and I was not about to go and beg the Imam, who I thought I knew and I didn’t know whether he would say yes or no, but I figured not saying anything would be better than going to him and him making me leave. So, I took my chances, but being homeless is kind of like being a fugitive slave. You cannot compromise the secrecy of your hiding place. And even though he was cool as hell, I can’t afford to trust anybody these days.

So, I moved my location, just for my peace of mind. I didn’t want them finding me and telling me I had to leave. So, I just wasn’t going to be there. I learned that from dealing with the police. You gotta catch me first.

The next day, I went to one of the homeless resource centers and asked about shelters out of pure desperation, because I had heard another Muslim Sister say she had just asked and they told her all the shelters were full. But she is a Sunni and not good friends with Master Fard Muhammad, The True and Living God, To Whom Praises Are Due Forever, like I am, and the front desk told me that a shelter had just called and said they had ONE BED!!!!! AL HAMDULILLAH!!!!!!!!

So, Al Hamdulillah! I have shelter.

I cannot tell you the weight that has been lifted off my shoulders. Allahu Akbar.

Today, I just did some sightseeing. I’m posting updates of my adventures on Facebook. Periscope sucks. Facebook Rocks. LIVE VIDEOS ON DECK!!!!! Friend me. They won’t let me change my name to the name my Husband gave me LOVE ALLAH, because somebody hacked my account in 2009 and they had to do an executive name change at their headquarters. I had to send them a copy of my I.D. just to get them to change it back!!! So now, I can’t change my name. Search LATIFAH ALLAH. I’m the only one on Facebook!!!!!
❤ ❤ ❤

The Veil of Falsehood Must Be Removed

Bismillahi Rahmani Rahim

As-Salaamu-Alaikum Beloved Asiatic Black Brothers and Beloved Asiatic Black Sisters!

I am feeling rather emotional right now and felt like writing. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything. I just haven’t felt the need.

But last week I read a story on Facebook that brought back something from my childhood that I just couldn’t get out of me.

Something I have never told anyone in my life except my sister who was there when it happened.

This story on Facebook involved a little boy who wanted his father to buy him a very inexpensive art notebook. He put it on the conveyer belt and when his father saw it, he got very upset and reprimanded the boy for his art aspirations and told him art was gay.

The little boy was visibly hurt. So, the cashier, who related the story, offered to buy the notebook and encouraged the little boy by telling him he couldn’t wait to buy one of his pieces.

The boy’s countenance brightened and they left the store.

When the cashier got off work, he went outside and saw the notebook on the ground. It was ripped down the middle.

*****

When I was about thirteen, I was in love with New Edition, just like most Black girls my age at that time. I had every album; every single (12″ and 45); every poster on my wall; every magazine article and every music video and live performance recorded on videotape.

One day when I got home, I took out my albums like I always did, and found that someone had taken a knife and scratched a thick line down the middle of each record.

My big Sister was there and we both deduced that it had to have been my mother. My Sister knew how evil she could be. And secretly called her “the witch.” No one on the outside looking at our family would ever have guessed how mean my mother was to us. I remember a childhood friend expressing his surprise when I told him my parents had split up. He was genuinely astonished. We were the perfect picture of happiness on the outside but behind closed doors it was a much different story.

I know many of my friends, from single parents or otherwise were envious of the happiness they thought we experienced. If only they knew! I am still suffering from the effects of my dysfunctional family.

I went to a seminar a while back on mental disorders and one of the panelist noted that mental illness is always the result of abuse of power. How could I confront my own mother about something like this???

So, I never said anything until now.

I started not to even write this.  But it’s been a week since I saw that article about the little boy and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. That’s usually a sign that I need to write.

So yeah, that’s the type of mother I grew up with.

It’s a good thing Allah Makes children so resilient. But we do grow up.

And we remember.

2006

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

So, I’m living out of my Mom’s garage. I always come back here for a certain reason that I’m not ready to disclose just yet.

But I found a few of my old Journals and I’m reading the one from my conversion to Islam.

My speech is the same. I changed in the beginning and have not changed since. Al Hamdulillah.

It is interesting to recall the details of specific events that were so significant to my spiritual growth and development.

It will be ten years in March since I first converted to Islam and this Journal details everything I went through with the Farrakhaners, my feelings trying to accept their erroneous teachings. My first meeting with my Beloved Brother, Brother Darrow, who has since passed. I still miss him so much. I cried real hard remembering him. Do you ever get over the death of a loved one? I am sure he would be proud of me.

I started selling Bean Soup because of him. I had forgotten that.

Now, I’m pregnant and although I’m not married, it’s more important to continue the growth of our Nation. No one can raise a Muslim like I can. I’m like Mary. Didn’t have sex. And I’m making some more Isas  (Jesuses).

That’s more important than being married. Mary and Joseph weren’t married either. In fact about it, Joseph was married to another woman and had six children by her when he fathered Isa.

I’m a believer now that they didn’t have sex, despite what Our Beloved Messenger Teaches. Based on my own experience.

They probably got close because my Zawji did some sort of ghetto insemination. We did not have intercourse, but when I got back and couldn’t stay at the shelter, I tried to break, well I did break into my mother’s house, but I knew something was up when I couldn’t get through the window as easily as I should.

She called the police on me and they took me to the hospital, but I always come here to nest and I came right back.

Tell me why was the plant holder I had used to break the window right back in the same place, as if it hadn’t been broken when I used it to break the window?

Matrix like a mugg…..

Anyway, I used it again to break the rear window on her Cadillac. She still calls me the C word AND to me, it represents her thirst for money, which I feel was detrimental to my growing up years.

So, the police took me to the hospital again. First, the doctor told me I was slightly anemic. That only happens when I’m pregnant. Then my body temperature was low. That also happens when you’re pregnant. Then one of the nurses flat out told me, they say you’re pregnant.

Next thing I know, I’m getting nauseous in the morning and I fainted. That Only happens when I’m pregnant. Or high. 😉

Allah told me I’m having identical twin boys.

I already have their names picked out:

Ahmad ibn Amad-Jamal and

Jamal ibn Amad-Jamal.

I just looked at another Journal. It’s from 2003 and has pictures. Talk about Memory Lane. There’s a flier from my show The Underground. I’m gonna post a pic. Hold on.

20160110_165943-120160110_170007-1

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

Why did I find the picture my Zawji gave me in High School? And I was JUST thinking about this picture the other day thinking it was lost forerver.

But that’s not all. It was part of my journal in High School. BUT TRIP THIS. The date is November 11, 1986.

I’ma post a picture just because he wants me to.

20160110_171715

Trying to hide those braces. 😆 Still cute. So sorry, I called you a bucket head, Habibi. I had NO IDEA who I had. Plus side is, now I do. 😊

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

I Guess You Wonder Where I’ve Been……..

بِسْــــــــــــــــــمِ اﷲِالرَّحْمَنِ اارَّحِيم

QUILL AND INK

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Beautiful and Beloved Black Sisters & Brothers!

Why am I in the hospital again???

Thankfully, they let me use the computer to check in. 🙂 Al Hamdullilah!

I feel great, just waiting for a ticket back to L.A.

Ramadan Mubarak!!!

May Allah Bless Us All With A Successful and Prosperous, Healthy RAMADAN.

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum!

Your Sister,

~ LOVE ALLAH ~

Go with the flow but always against the grain……. Halloween weekend 2015 #NOLA

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Dearly Beloved Sisters and Brothers

So, I just got back from a live episode of Frazier. :/

I red in the paper about an event called “Words and Music 2015” So, you know the first thing I associate the title with is Jilly’s debut album, right? Wrong?

First thing that should’ve tipped me off to what lay in store for the afternoon was when I walked out onto the sidewalk and found myself swimming upstream in a sea of Saints fans, heading towards the Superdome. :/

This continued for the next three blocks (dwindling) until I made a right on Canal.

It was raining lightly and I rather enjoyed the walk.

A Brother gave me directions (practically escorting me) to the hotel where the event was being held. I’ve been here two months and am starting to feel more like a tourist than when I first arrived.

I was only a handful of Black people who were not servicing the devils.

#dtno is like walking into a nail shop wherein if you stand in the front all you see are Korean faces. But if you stand in the back all you see are Black faces. :/

So, I felt obligated to tip him one of four dollars I had panhandled the other day.

I was at the Greyhound station where I stop to freshen up and had decided to wait for this Brother who had gone in the bathroom to roll one.

So, I’m just there like, what? So, I was asking the sundry Black people who happened by to buy me some ice cream. No one did, so then this guy who looked like a devil hippie “Shaggy” type backtracks passing by and Allah (swt) Told me to ask him.

Now, I never ask devils for shit, but sometimes it’s hard to tell, so I submitted.

He gave a common reply that I’ve heard a lot in NOLA but never in L.A. “For what?” I thought I would try him out and said, “Um, 400 years of Slavery?” He started mumbling something incomprehensible but also started digging in his wallet and handed me $4.00. #symbolic #getit? #4

Anyway, I gave the Brother who escorted me to the hotel a dollar. I wanted to give him all of it (sometimes I give charity to my own detriment), but I kept thinking, “I break fast later” and all I had to eat were 2 apples and I want to give those to Hisaan. I thought I might want to buy something later so I kept the three (3).

So, I get to the hotel and a Sister I had just passed in a convenience store was getting in the elevator. I asked her if she was going to the Words and Music thing. She said, “No,” so I went to the hotel concierge. There was a line and one of the counterpersons asked if she could help me.

I told her where I was trying to go. She directed me me to some stairs that would take me to the mezzanine level. Now, deep down I knew that the mezz is like an in-between floors floor, but I can’t get this racism out of my head (and she was Asian!) So, I go check the elevator and cheah, you had to take the stairs. :/ Doh! But still. :/

I go up the stairs and there’s this devil right there sitting on his suitcase or something, like he was waiting for something or somebody.

We eye each other warily. When I reach the top there’s a covered table with nothing on it, but a hotel memo pad and a pen.

She told me that that was where I was supposed to register, but there was nobody there. And, just the pad and a pen on the table. So, I’m like “Okay….”

Then I look left and see a room with books on tables. And, stuffy. old. devils.

You know that song, “Fly in the buttermilk, shoo fly, shoo” was written for Black people in the predicament I had just walked in.

But, the event was called, “Words and Music” and that’s me to the core, so I didn’t turn tail, which was probably what the two artsy Sisters I had passed on the way there had done.

The devils probably figured I was “new around these parts” and wasn’t scared of devils like the local so-called Negroes. They were right on both counts.

Everytime I’m talking to some Black people, well not every time, but a lot of times, when a devil appears, they run.

Well, my teacher, Allah (God) Taught me to RESIST the devil and HE would flee from me!!!

So, I glanced at the books and took note of the remnants of a meal they had served earlier. I was fasting, so I couldn’t have eaten if I had been there anyway. Not to mention the penalty for eating with Christians.

So, then I entered the main suite. Here, there were preppy college-aged devils intermingling with Frazier and his nursing home homies.

I took a seat but soon noticed that it looked like they had already wrapped. I asked Gidget “Is it over. Am I late?” She replied, “This session. But there’ll be another panel.” So, then I decided I needed an itinerary.

Frazier dug one up and I learned I had crashed some stuck-up literary society’s annual convention and awards gathering.

Nevertheless, I thumbed through the program and discovered the next symposium was entitled:

THE AESTHETICS OF LITERATURE
– The Art Of The Personal Narrative

In other words, MEMOIRS!!!!!

Perfect for my blog!

I was thinking, they can’t teach me anything I don’t already know, but didn’t have anything to do, so I stayed. But to my chagrin, one of the panelists was gay and another a feminist. :/

I walked out three times before I left for good. I knew everything already but I did learn a few terminologies and was able to use the phone on one of my walkouts to inquire about a place. So, I guess the afternoon wasn’t a total failure.

I might’ve stayed if I didn’t feel like the entire charade was being played out for my benefit – the lone so-called American Negro and a Muslimah! LOL GTFOH :/

So, on the way “home,” I stopped at Mickey D’s for the dollar menu, which apparently NOLA tourists are too entrenched in money to warrant even an offering and the Filet o’ Fish was $3.67 or some equally exorbitant figure for a McDonalds sandwich.

Zawji told me not to go in at all. #prostitution and I think the Sister at the hotel may have been one too. 😥 😥 😥

I was ready to leave New Orleans by the time I got “home” but the next day, I woke up refreshed like I had inhaled a breath of fresh hot air #FYAH!!!!!

Sweet Thought

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

YOU’RE THAT SWEET AFTERTASTE IN MY MIND….
“SWEET THOUGHT”
Like Tarik kinda
But Betta
All Up In My Mind
You Got
That Good Kinda Honey
With the Skrong Flavour
Like No Other
Pure Natural
Acadiana
Certified Cajun
My Personal Apiary
No Bees Necessary
It’s all in your smile
Your wordz tacitly
Tingle my Brain,
Sweet Thought
From yours to mine
No sounds
All Telepathic Sweet Thoughts
Traveling on Sound Waves
All up and through my brain
Unspoken Sweetness
Stimulates
Creativity
Musefully
Musically
Mentally
Sweet Thoughts
On My Tongue
Delicious and Profound
You Are Amazing!!!
MY Jamal
Sweet Honey Thoughts
Transmit through silent tastebuds
Nonverbally communicating
Your Infinite Love to Me ❤ ❤ ❤
Part Two
My mouth is utterly useless now
(Audible Words are gratuitous…)
(Speech is primitive and outdated…)
Used only to savour
The honey-sweet thoughts
You transmit
From Brain to Spinal Chord
To Heart To Arm to Hand
To Pen to Paper
I WRITE
Of Sweet Thought
He Gets All Up In My
(sweet)Mouth(thought)Mind
Impregnating Ideas in Me
Of Honey-Sweet Thoughts
That Skrong Flavour – Like No Other
Certified Cajun
Product of Louisiana
C’est magnifique!
*kisses fingertips*
Bon Appetit! 😉
 ❤ الله

HALLOWEEN 2015 IN NOLA

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Dearly Beloved Sisters and Brothers!

New Orleans is outta control. They call it Raw-lins’ And I can bear witness, it gets pretty Raw out here.

Anyway, I left work on Friday. I can’t remember what I did.

Saturday, I made a garment – completely hand sewn, with material donated by The Hyatt Regency, courtesy of a Violet table cloth I happened to pass by.

Look, they built that hotel on my land. Everything in it is mine. They are the ones trespassing.

Anyway. Thanks for the iron, too.

I didn’t go anywhere all day. I’ve been like that out here. I go out on weekdays, but the past few weekends, I’ve stayed “home” all day. Both days. I just don’t feel like going anywhere. But weekdays I’m gone all day. I don’t know why. I just go by what Allah (God) Tells me to do. That’s why they can’t catch me. Unless I let them.

I’ve been eating so good. Zawji is such a good provider. I call him Razzaq, which is Allah’s (God) Attribute of Provider.

St. Somebody or other had their Homecoming Dance at the hotel. And I got so regretful and penitent remembering how my Zawji had begged me to go to his Homecoming, but my parents were so strict you would have thought they were Muslims.

I couldn’t go nowhere in High School. Not Homecoming, night dances, Ultra Wave, parties. NATHAN! They reluctantly let me go to Prom. No fanfare. Now, I wish they hadn’t. :/

Anyway, why did some little fast ass girl let this little Brother bring her right next to the HONEYCOMB HIDEOUT, AND THEY START JUKIN’!!!!!!!!! #nolaslang

You know me. I do not condone fornication under any circumstances. So, I started making ALL KINDA noise. So, they would know that they were not alone! Why did they keep going? :/

So, then I said something. TWICE!!! I forgot what I said now, but they KEPT GOING. Lil’ freaks.

So, then I was like, “Next time, make him get you a ROOM!“

She must’ve felt cheap then, because they were gone in ten seconds.

Then later another couple came by – COMPLETELY DIFFERENT than the first. They sounded like me and Zawji. We were married at birth. The Holy Qur-an calls it two parts of the same soul. Nafis in Arabic.

Anyway, it was obvious he respected his wife because he said, “Hello? Hello?” to make sure no one was there. I didn’t say nothing and just let them make love. It was cool too because there was other noise in the hotel and I didn’t even know when they had finished. He sounded like he had some money in his pocket too, or some jewelry or something though.

I ended up crying thinking how different my life would have been…….. 😥  Ididn’tevenask……  😥 😥 😥

So, every now and again I come across a pair of shoes. They’re always in fairly good condition. But, I love my Chucks. So, I always pass on them. I don’t need more than one pair of shoes.

But there’s been a pair of black sneaks right outside the hotel for at least a week. They might have been there before I went to the hospital. Nobody has taken them. Zawji told me they were for me. And I thought a thousand people probably (wait, I did go somewhere on Saturday. That was the day the Pelicans played the Golden State Warriors. Zawji wanted to go up there, so we went. I found two umbrellas. Kept the best one and tried to sell the other one. But everybody was pissed because Cali came out on top. I should’ve played up the color RED. Everybody had on red last night. They lost anyway. But if you’re gonna lose, at least look good.

Black people look so good in red. Especially our children.

I couldn’t lose because I live in New Orleans, but I’m from California. 😛 I think I was a little bit happier because The WARRIORS WON tho’ AGAIN!!! ❤ ❤ ❤ #worldchamps 😀 😀 #CALIFORNIA ❤

Anyway, I met a Sister and ended up giving her the umbrella.

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If anybody knows a Black Dentist in New Orleans, please comment with his/her information. I prefer a female. Thanks!

So anyway, I thought 10,000 people probably passed those sneakers tonight, but ZAWJI KNOWS BEST.

So, no sooner had I put them down in the Hideout than I noticed something jump out. It was a tawny brown and, at first glance, I thought it was a cricket. I’m from L.A. and even those are rare, but it was the first association I had. But, when I looked closer, I saw it was a little frog! With huge black eyes.

I played with it for a minute, then it hopped somewhere close to my stuff and I thought, “I can’t have you hidin’ out somewhere in the hideout.” I didn’t know his name yet. Zawji told me later, it’s Hopper.

So, I ended up putting it in a container and now I have a pet frog. Let me see if I can find a picture on Google. Okay, I can’t find a picture and it’s just as well, because it died last night. I tried to feed it a fruit fly but I couldn’t get it to eat. I should’ve let him go as soon as I thought about it. 😥 RIP Hopper ❤ ❤ ❤

I hate to say it but I learned, while eavesdropping on a devils’ tour of Congo Square, that according to them, Congo Square is where the devils dropped off their slaves while they went cavorting in the French Quarter. :/

The slaves tell it like they went there voluntarily. :/

Two sides to every story.

I also hate to say it but I LOVE Jazz musician funerals. Probably because I’ve never known either of them personally. But the MUSIC!

I went to Uncle Smokey’s wake staying outside for the most part because Muslims can get in BIG Trouble for going to a Christian funeral or wedding or even eating and drinking with them.

We are not allowed to socialize with Christians at all. The Holy Qur-an warns us that they will not stop trying to revert us back to their dirty religion importunately and incessantly.

I was able to tell one of Branford’s Doppels to tell Wynton about How To Eat To Live and had a ball singing my heart out to a Brass Band. It was the first time really. I loved it.

I finally admitted this morning that the music of New Orleans is the Dixieland Jazz they play in cartoons all the time. I remember one about a flea circus. But it sounds so much better now! LOL

What do kids know? 😉

If I could convince one of these jazz bands to let me sing with them…. YA’LL JUST DON’T KNOW!!!!!! I would blow your mind! But I have to get approval from the King first. I was BORN to do this. Well, I enjoy it immensely. 😀

I was born to teach the good news to my Brothers and Sisters who have never heard it. And pray Allah opens their eyes, ears and hearts.

TO BE CONTINUED

At the Bank of the Mississippi

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

CRICKETS

WAVES

VIOLINS

And the low murmur of a steamboat…..

I just can’t bring myself to walk away…

The full moon begs me to stay…

Solitude, coupled with your willingness to abide by whatever I say…

Makes me contemplate…

The Sunrise Over The MISSISSIPPI…

River Rats 

Discover my presence

And Leave Me Be….

The crowds have long since dispersed,

After noting and appreciating my fine taste in music…

Drawn by the Lure of The Brass Band,

I find myself at the shore –

Celebrating our Anniversary….

Two months

Feel like

Two weeks

In

This

Matrix.

The Stars vie for notoriety,

Here among the moon and the reflection of lights on the water…

All I can see is your handsome face,

Moving in with the current,

In time with the harp,

The cymbals,

And the bells….

A tugboat hauls a tanker,

I watch it roll out again,

As another rolls in,

waves……. waves…… waves…… waves…… waves……

For days…….

Two-legged River rats

Come and go,

Disturbing my Peace….

….Think I’ll Come Back……

Sooner next time………

الله ❤

Happy Anniversary, Zawji ❤ ❤ ❤
This was one of the most memorable nights of my life.
I LOVE YOU FOREVER! ❤ ❤ ❤

Runaway Bride

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

As-Salaamu ‘Alaikum Beautiful and Beloved Asiatic Black Sisters & Brothers

I know it’s been a minute since I’ve “checked in,” but I learnt from Edward Kennedy “Duke” Ellington, that it’s okay to take some time and gather your thoughts before writing about something.

However, before I get to my latest escapades…

*Somebody little, one of my children, no doubt, thought she was saying “Ice Capades” 😉 LOL*

I wanna share with you a tip I discovered while hand sewing this garment. (No machine 😦 but you Can’t Stop My Go!)

Instead of making a knot at the end of the thread before you start stitching; make the knot after you make your first insertion. I learned how to finish a stitch from this video. You can do the same thing in the beginning.

Just insert your needle twice and make the loop, pull the thread through a couple of times and then the needle. Then you can go on and sew without having to worry about tying a knot in the beginning.

Okay, now that I’ve stalled, let me tell you about my big faux pas.
(In NOLA, you have to speak a little French 😉 )

You know, my Zawji and I were supposed to get married on his birthday (the 22nd). I told you I’m still practicing, but that doesn’t explain my hiatus. Well, three days before the wedding, I got an extreme case of cold feet. And, I deliberately got busted shoplifting. The Security Guard was just as cool as the devil manager was evil. He gave me so many opportunities to retain my freedom. Some Black cops and Sheriffs seem to be acutely aware of the PTSD Black people like me suffer from.

But all I could think about was a shower. I knew I didn’t want to go back to jail, because I would’ve had to remove my headpiece, AND I would’ve been out in two days and like I wrote previously, cold feet… So, I acted crazy enough to get committed to the psych ward.

It was new because I’ve been to jail. And, I’ve been to the psych ward. I’ve even been to the psych ward in jail, but I’d never been to jail in the psych ward (hospital).

Zawji tried so hard to get me out in time for the wedding. But, I wouldn’t let him. I got caught up in getting married and completely forgot that I was supposed to be his birthday present. 😥

But Allah is The Best Knower and The Best Planner and
EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON.

While in the hospital I had an epiphany. Rather, a recollection of something I had completely forgotten. I went on a date with a Brother when my husband was away!

I know right? Me? Never woulda thunk.

But, he shipped out right after we got married and I had just learnt I was pregnant, but I was still partying and carrying on like a single woman.

In fact, the only reason I STOPPED partying is because this Brother –
at a party – told me (six-months pregnant by then :/ ),
“If you were my woman, I would beat your ass.“

*Thank-you Brother, by the way. If more Black men would take control of their women, we wouldn’t be in such a bad condition – AS A NATION.

So, anyway, in the hospital, in which I had a beautiful view of Canal Street overlooking a luscious waterfall fountain. This was, by far, the nicest psych emergency room I’ve ever visited. It’s so crazy because everything in NOLA is either BRAND NEW or completely dilapidated and in a state of disrepair due to Hurricane Katrina. It’s like living in a bi-polar city; TWO EXTREMES.

I got a good taste of it last night. I felt like getting out. The plan was to go to Tremé to visit Hisaan – Damisha’s Baby Daddy. Yes Gir, I have to put you on blast for trying to pass that horsebaby off as my Zawji’s. We both know your Baby Daddy is a horse. And yes, Black people, bestiality and grafting is alive and well in America. Damisha’s horsebaby is proof.

I seriously hope you were artificially inseminated. Although, J’me told me she saw a video of a woman having sex with a horse at Ice T’s club. :/

Anyway, I came up on somebody’s lunch the other day at the Greyhound station (Thanks Zawji! 😉 ❤ ) and it was full of apples. So, I was on my way to give him one and I stopped to take a rest and he “told” me to eat it.

So, afterwards, I was gonna go anyway, with just me, but I thought he might be sleeping, so I stopped in “The Lion’s Den” and listened to this broadcast of a live show and the Brass Band had me open deep and wide! I tried to go catch the show, but couldn’t find it. Ended up in The French Quarter and then at the banks of the Mississippi, once again.

I’ve been in NOLA nearly two months and I’m still seeing new sights!!! I don’t see how anybody can view one week as long enough to take a holiday. True, we did see alot on our family trip to Hawaii, but I think that’s just because my parents gave me and my Sister liberty to roam the city one afternoon and if we didn’t find a party! #onlyme

But anyway, this time I took the Riverwalk and if that shit wasn’t the most romantic thing (2nd) I’ve ever experienced in my whole life. I took it to the end/beginning of Canal Street and the chasm between the haves and the have-nots there is strikingly palpable.

I almost fell on my knees in succor to my Brothers and Sisters, beseeching them to unite and open a hotel. If we would boycott ONE DAY, we would shut this city down.

We are too complacent – too satisfied with crumbs. I’m convinced every devil visiting this city is a billionaire. The hotels, restaurants, bars, stores, etc. are too nice. One hotel has four lanes for Valet parking!!! It looks like fucking LAX!!! But instead of uniting and trying to get some of that Cream at the top,

We’re content with the Crumbs that fall off the table to the floor. Even raising the minimum wage to $15/hour is horseshit compared to the wealth I saw last night.

But anyway, back to the hospital. I stayed until they let me go. They didn’t want to, but I wouldn’t cooperate. It was nice, much nicer than any of my reses in NOLA, but ever since I heard a Brother say that anywhere you can’t walk down the street is jail, I’ve never been content to stay in any psych ward longer than necessary. I don’t care how nice it is.

It was after Zawji’s big day, but I remembered going on that date. I know it was after I was married because I ordered three hot dogs, rather, I had the Brother buy me three hot dogs. So I know I had to have been preggers. I would not have eaten that much if I wasn’t. I feel horrible.

I swear I have split personalities. I know I wasn’t showing at the time and the poor Brother didn’t find out I was pregnant until months later, when I saw him at the Fox Hills Mall.

Anyway, that little detail from my past has been buried for over 24 years only to be uncovered right before I was scheduled to be married again. All things work for good for them who love the Lord. So, it’s all good. It helped me realize I need to rework my plan for staying committed. All Praise is Due to Allah.

I’m so sorry, Beloved Honey-Sweet Zawji. Your birthday comes only once a year. We can wait or we can do like our poor foreparents, who had no knowledge of the date and just say we did it on your birthday. Whichever pleases you, My King. I submit. This is the last issue I had to overcome. It’s smooth sailing from here.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

I LOVE YOU!

Nomorerunnin’………