Philippians 4:13 --- I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me********************************************************** ************************************************************ ************************************************************ ***************"***She SINGS sad songs over hip hop beats..music once so sweet now wildly off key..the volume was so loud he couldn't hear her plea over the music....*************************************************** ************************************************************ ************************************************************ ************************************************************ ************************************************************ ************************************************************ ************************************************************ ********************Who is Libra the writer????????"When I am happy, I write..when I am upset, I write...I confide in my ink. I tell it everything. I never ask it to keep secrets so in turn she spills it all on white. Uninhibited and fearless, I write." I look at writing as more than a tool of expression...its more like life to me. When a work is born, I nurture it, I play with it, I watch it grow and when its fully developed I show that I am proud of it. When I walk around downtown or sit by the bustop, I get struck with ideas or conjured up feelings that I have bottled up and corked tight. I learned no matter what, an artist can't escape creativity..there are no vacations from the craft. Sometimes I will be watching a music video and instead of me being intrigued by the visuals, I am closing my eyes coming up with my own idea for a video..I get lost in the words, lyrics...the persons voice. The pain or joy in the octaves. It is just beauty to my ears. I remember the first time I ever wrote a poem as well as heard a poem recited. I was in the 4th grade. The assignment was write a poem about your life. What does a fourth grader know about life? More specifically, what can I say about my life? I went home and thought about what I wanted to say. It was tough because my favorite tv show was echoing in the background. Mommy didn't play that..homework first. I was hungry and the aroma of good ole hamburger helper(more like chopped beef and cheese sauce) was lingering in our 2 bedroom apartment. Wait! That's it..my life consisted of neverending homework a strict mom raising 4 kids in a tight apartment and no frills meals that tasted damn good. The following day in class we were instructed to swap poems and read aloud the paper we were handed. I remember I received a boys poem and when I read it I just laughed. He wrote two lines which stated: roses are red violets are blue, I like video games and mcdonalds fries too. When I heard my own poem, I couldn't believe I wrote it. It was like listening to the teacher reading an excerpt from a langston hughes or gwendoly brooks poem out of our literature book. I wish I could remember it, but with age comes low memory. It was so beyond my age bracket, my teacher drilled me about plagerism. I had to prove to her right there that I wrote something of such magnitude. And with all that said, I became her favorite most talked about poet. All I knew was I had discovered a passion that I never thought of before that assignment..writing. For years I just wrote. Whether it was horrible, whether or not it made sense, I had to write. Writing had become pivotal in my life. I couldn't function through daily routines if I didn't jot down something. To this day I treat words like my babies. I love them. I push them to limits, I make them stand out and never back down from what they believe..its all about the words. There is something phenomenal about letters which form words which link to pain or anger or happiness or joy. Reading about a new babies birth in the church announcement letter or a horrific crime in the daily newspaper. Whatever the person holding the pen or typing the keys is feeling, its embedded in the piece. I know from experience as what I like to call, an emotional poet. I create stanzas and verses off of emotion stirring experiences..for example, Death of a close one, being a single mother whose lost hope for marriage, being a selfless person and getting multiple stab wounds to the back(figuratively) or plain old love me and leave me situations. Whatever the emotion, I spill it and then leave the mess there for later. I do this for a reason. I can look back at my writing and say damn I was going through something that heavy...not knowing at the time I was going through it how drastic it actually was. I won't allow myself to ponder my sadness, my misgivings, my depression, myself..I have to stay optimistic..positive. I have to remain in that light in order to keep from drowning in self pity. So I convey it all in my words.. When I read over my works , its like being pulled into a novel or a screenplay. I am fascinated by the characters portrayed like its a work of fiction, but stirring deep inside, the reality is its not fiction and the main character is I. With this craft, I get great joy out of sharing my thoughts and experiences with the world. One word at a time. Lbeez~~~~~~~~A weight has been lifted And I am so light I'm dancing on cumulous clouds Grabbing stars and putting moonbeams in my pocket for later The sun kisses my face As I'm hearing angels harmonies in the near distance The winds whisper nestled against my skin Heaven is a mile away~~~~~~~~~~~~
Contact Box Generated at http://www.myspacetag.org"We majored in curses searched the chapters checked the verses" Lauryn hill...
