Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Dee Scribes

Tonight I'd like to welcome DC poet Dee Scribes to The Song Is...  I feel as though I should have posted her work this morning as it is very much of that part of the day as opposed to the night time.  However, Dee's work will stay with you until the morning.

She wakes to window shades, slicing the warm sun rays that lay gingerly across her toffee cheeks.
Greetings of new mercies inhaled through the nostrils of ticking moments that curse modern sun dials.
Her eyes drink in daybreak's realities, quenching the thirsty dreams of the night.
Her body doesn't speak,
 no creaks
 from her bones’ oration of aging,
only the reverberating vibrations
of frequencies that pattern a mind at peace. Gone are worries of yesterday; available are only the exits from corners she painted herself in with perception, exits that lead to where she can be enveloped
 in this day’s possibilities like warm shearling
 dipped in happiness
before it is fashioned
as a jacket
to protect from the elements.
This new beginning etched in the sky’s horizon--the  metaphor
that implores
to move forward beyond the pains of empty wishes to be treated better than how she perceives she looks – average.
Today brings transformation as tips of toes touch hardwood floors,
Heels quickly follow,
feet solidly placed to support limbs to stand strongly on a foundation usually weakened by cynicism.
And hope seeps in through the cracks in  walls she built with layers of offense
 and crumbles every stone laid with disappointment, one after the other.
It's  a new day.
For the first time in the longest time, she can envision what tomorrow could be filled with, confidence, progress, and self-awareness. There can be freedom--an idea that has consistently eluded her
but today paul's epistle gave flame to a flicker burning in her mind to change direction, Romans 12:2 at its pinnacle.
Be not conformed it says; each syllable
slowly unbends her mind from around ubiquitous trends, and straightens like a two edged sword that cuts deep, deep, deep into flesh until it  tears muscles from cartilage, cartilage  from joints, joints from bones until there is nothing left but bare bones....optimal for a resurrection; something must die in order for it to live again.
And all that she's known and learned will breathe into those 206
and become a new  creature whose stride  mimics a lioness
 who protects her dreams like new born cubs. Her self-image will be intrinsic......Aaaaahhhhhhhh, it's a new day....the spirit of fear, fears her power now permeating through her skin designed for protection.
No longer hardened  by critiques of not being enough. Her skin is now a conduit,
the moment of metamorphosis; its gateway to freedom, it changes the atmosphere.
More than just melanin  or lack thereof
it’s estrogen
 that permits her to give birth, create nourishment, populate the earth.
Has she forgotten who she is-----so important that she wasn’t formed from dirt,
 but handcrafted from Adams rib... valuable still...there's  nothing weak about her choosing submission,
but there’s wisdom in a circumstance to know when.  The glossy table of contents is not filled with her bio or glimpses of her stills,
  but it lies in the creases of individual purpose and there is where her freedom resides.
Destiny is the griot who whispers in her ear to remind her that every stumble, every friend, every foe, every argument, every trial, every smile, every challenge works together for the good,
so how would
 anything outside of destiny convey a story that’s already been written in the scriptures, he knows the plans, to prosper, not to harm, to give a hope and a future.
 In him she is delighted, in her heart is where he plants his desires.
how can she fail?--- there it is---freedom. No medium can bind her, no blue bird can tweet worldview falsities
that she would believe,
no room for insecurities
 because she’s already folgers, filled to the brim with who God says she is. Now she starts living in that truth...and that's when she became me.


I've posted Ahmad Jamal's "Saturday Morning," but here is a live version with Wynton Marsalis:

Did I post "The Awakening"?

On the other hand, Eddie Palmieri's "In Flight" always wakes me up.

I want to conclude with two pieces by Donal Fox, a pianist whom my husband and I heard at the beginning of the summer.

Here is his version of Monk's "Ugly Beauty":

Fox is also known for his performance of classical music, so I am posting his version of J.S. Bach's "Two-Part Invention in F-Major"...with a little something extra:

In the meantime, have a safe Fourth (if you are American), and be sure to vote in the In Mourning and Memory contest: