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Love taught me to die with dignity that I might come forth anew in splendor. Born once of flesh, then again of fire, I was reborn a third time to the sound of my name humming haikus in heaven’s mouth.
Aberjhani
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Aberjhani
Age: 67
Born: 1957
Born: July 8
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Savannah
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Jeffery Jerome Lloyd
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This rose of pearl-coated infinity transforms the diseased slums of a broken heart into a palace made of psalms and gold.
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At one end of the continuum known as history are first-time events that have generated notable measures of public recognition due to either a positive or negative impact.
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Minister and writer Barbara Kaufmann has addressed the subject of guerrilla decontextualization on both the 'Voices Compassionate Education' website and on 'Inner Michael', where she offers the kind of insights into the spiritual aspects of Michael Jackson's creative artistry that mainstream media mostly ignores.
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An author accepting language's invitation to dance steps onto the floor of his her sensibility-charged consciousness and begins to move instinctively--even if with much dread--in ways that synchronize images, ideas, emotions, sounds, smells, ignorance, and knowledge.
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In the days when hyenas of hate suckle the babes of men, and jackals of hypocrisy pimp their mothers’ broken hearts, may children not look to demons of ignorance for hope.
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Know yourself fearlessly (even quietly) for all the things you are.
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Art gives its vision to beauty not always recognized. And it surrenders freely -- whatever power it possesses to every sincere soul that seeks it. But above all else--it presents us with the gift of ourselves.
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Where humanity sowed faith, hope, and unity, joy’s garden blossomed.
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Upon the lips of babes asleep I saw light embracing light and so allowed my syllables to rest there as a prayer they might sing in their dreams.
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On faith’s battered back calm eyes etch prayers that cool a nation’s hot rage.
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Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.
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An outrageous instinct to love and be loved blinded your arms to lines of propriety––Women and Men, Christians and Jews, Muslims and Buddhists, white, black, red, brown. An outrageous instinct to love and be loved executed your brain every hour on the hour.
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Millions cheer the warriorspilling blood across the ringwhile the one who stands for peaceis ridiculed and shamed.Must hearts forever sufferfrom ignorance and greed?Can bombs heal our soulsor set our spirits free?
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I place my fingers upon these keys typing 2,000 dreams per minute and naked of spirit dance forth my cosmic vortex upon this crucifix called language.
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We can cry for years but sometimes gotta smile too.
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It becomes more and more difficult to avoid the idea of black men as subjects of not just racial profiling but of an insidious form of racial obliteration sanctioned by silence.
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That good gardener, who wept thorns plowing his fields - harvests grace with joy.
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