Guest Showcase: J'Aimmee aka iTmeans_iLOVE(twitter)

J’Aimmee
Twitter: iTmeans_iLOVE
Blog: http://itmeans-ilove.tumblr.com/
Bio: Simply complex and unique. Never stumbling from the wounds of the world. Trendsetter. Urban go getter. Spreads energy to each space.

Branded by Disgrace

She was branded by disgrace
A young woman whose life didn't match her face
Whose life didn't match the face.
The façade.
She was branded by disgrace,
The back of her shoulders burned
With the marks of common fate.
Her back and her shoulders weighed down by
All God's missing grace
God missed her, so she left Him
And he, he took her.
He took her life with every blow to her face,
With every thrust below her waist,
With every tear poured out her face...
And she grew, lifeless.
She was branded with HIS disgrace.
Face and lips, no hips and lips
Hips and Fist...her face, his fist.
Bruised, broken, battered, torn
BRANDED...with his fist
And with his lips...with Disgrace.
And he left her lifeless, with just a face
A façade; a lifeless mirage.
And through all this, all she wanted to know was...
WHERE WAS GOD!?
When he took her shattered innocence
For braze and barren offering
Where was God?
When, even though she was told she was beautiful,
He showed her, her beauty wasn't enough?
Where was God when his lust
Left her in shattered shreds of innocence
Shattered, shredded, innocent.
Bruised, branded, disgraced.
A lifeless body, a pretty face.
Covered by a façade
A glowing smile and bright eyes
A confident strut with her head held high.
A million questions in her mind
And she never inquired "why?"
But better yet "where?"
Through all these trials, she asked me, Where?
Where was God?
She asked me and I told her.
You see, He was right there.
Every time, He was standing right there...right here
See He was there that day
Pulling on the strings that brought up the sun in the sky
On that one beautiful morning, where for once,
She didn't have to cry.
He was the one pulling on the side of her lips,
So that even through all her strife,
She could continue to bless the world with her smile.
He was there...when somebody else chose to ask her why?
When someone else saw her cry.
When her story changed all those lives...
The whole time he was right there...
Waiting for her to open her eyes
To realize...
That, yes, she was branded by disgrace.
But only so through her life
She could brand others with His grace.

- J. A. Louis

Reflection: there is purpose in every thing. Find the meaning and purpose in your life. Aim high. Reach beyond the scope of your hands. Do expect things to come easy, and instead be willing to work for it. You are only as strong as the pillars holding you up… remember your system can be faulting if your foundation is weak. Realize that you cant do it alone… do not walk blinded.

I have enough faith to lend.. do you??

So I was going to post on something else today.. but for now.. I am just going to write from the heart. What do you value? If everything was snatched away from you… what would you ask god to give back?

I don’t remember a time without friends, because it never really mattered to me, I always had my brothers. There were my friends and equally my enemies on bad days. I guess you can say I was far beyond a tomboy growing up. Everything they grew out of slowly found its way in my closet. I remember many fun days exploring the woods nearby, wandering off for hours with out anyone knowing, to come home in trouble. But mom always gave me the freedom I needed to develop into this beautiful soul. (thank god). I never had a curfew, rules, or limits, just simply… make sure the brothers knew who I was with and where.

Over the years, my business was never my business, which help regulate the things I did and the people I socialized with. My little brother is one year and almost 6 months apart from me. We fought everyday growing up, about little things.. one time he got mad because I wouldn’t let him cook something after mom’s told me he broke a glass pan. But yet no matter how mad my brother was with me, he never hesitated to be by my side, defend me, or simply correct me when I was wrong. And my older brother, the natural born genius, seemed to be good at anything he put his mind to. He can manipulate any situation to benefit himself... except lately. Time has caught up to both of them.

I found myself this weekend listening to my older brother, Esso, cd… www.myspace.com/joeblow456... real hard. reading his letters from prison seems to help bring all these memories alive. Help put my goals, and desires for my family and self in perspective. They are never too far away. Just yesterday my younger brother turned himself in, to let time tick away at his brain. Over and over… I used to joke with my mother that I don’t get enough attention because I am on the “right” path. And yet more and more as I reflect on these last months... I now am starting to believe... their path has been “correct” for them.

Greed, jealousy, love, confusion, desire... all conflicted with misguidance leads to a dead end or a u-turn. As everything was slowly snatched away from both of them… slowly I can see their growth. Slowly I can see their appreciation. Slowly I can see them hurting. That seems to be enough for me these days. The memories. The moments. The fact that they may be better inside there, then in a different type of box, buried beneath my walking footsteps. That keeps me. And my writings will only confirm that things are changing. Now its time for me to stick by their side….

They have sacrificed so much for me to be me. To be grounded in strong principles. To be strong and determined. To take their examples and never duplicate them. To understand what trust is, and how loyalty is a luxury. They have dedicated themselves to seeing me do well in school, without a doubt that I would fail. Who am I to not sacrifice anything for them? I have enough faith to lend. do you?

Externally Wounded

My posts are about to start being a little more theme organized. Today I wanted to post a strong piece. A reflective piece. I wrote this sometime in 2008, I worked at the Carlos Museum at Emory... got a chance to help with a lot exhibits, and reflect on a lot of history. A lot of open wounds that we as people continue to hold on to… so heal with me...

Externally Wounded

I was born
wounded.
we
Bloody from oppression
Lack of freedom to the womb
Who are you that was born healthy?
Foreign to the country.
Their country.
Field at the hands of the enslaved
Take away kind
Take away color
The mentality of destruction.
Selfish Empowerment at the hands of humanity

And
I was created
with ropes around my neck
They already set aside my noose
Gestation purgatory
Renaming
Birth
hell’s heaven
yet the afterlife seems like bliss
They must have known
I would fight for justice
so they prepared to combat my strength

internally
limitless, bound by hope and freedom
They must have known
the power of true knowledge
yet within
Their education, their country
I was born.
Behind
Walking backward on fear
And looking away from weakness
Yes, they must have known our people would
Create the strong
Be the mighty
Despite our being
Stripped
Strapped
Caged
Beaten
Born into misery on foreign kinds
Now becoming foreign homes
And culture lost in trips in boats
Lost in trips on boats tamed by whips
Whips that hit at the core of soul
Dehumanizing hope
And rationalizing power and greed
estruction
Willie lynch them
Generational divides
Between cultural misprints and misreads
Power structures
Left generations to die.
Divided.

And me.
Born into the ills of the world
Molded, crafted, from first breath
The chosen one to lead
Those blinded
soul cultivated
Speech manipulated
By the blood of these people
Our people
My people
And my birth was celebrated
With another number
In the army for freedom
Already wounded by history
Already slain by history
Bloody still from oppression
Discrimination
ready to fight.
With only my soul.
Open, branded with freedom on forearm
Studying
Reading manuscripts of pass explorations on faith
Within
against this unjust fairytale
Of America’s dreams
It’s creating my blueprint.
I am attempting to regain dignity
In our conception. Our presence.
Our essence of being.

There are no battle wounds on
The battle field for the new
Leaving behind Garvey
Malcolm and Fannie
For a pause
A breath, fresh air, cleansed
By all our blood deaths, and past births scorn
Fighting from wounds they have started
But we have yet to finish. Understood/
We need to finish
Open books
Pens awaiting touch
Paper, ink, awaiting history
To be used to document this new battle
The change in this country
Formulated off greed and hatred
Yet its came to be known for its
Ability to keep everlasting dreams
While culture and history
Was stolen, thus depleted.
So I rise.
I am born
to create infinites
To believe in the limitless
Based foundations on faith
Positive yet realistic premises
That all karma is not good:

Stolen silence
and they
Will have their share
And the light will shine
Reborn with my ancestors
Rebirth of my future
No more wounds.
No more bloodshed
No more misery.
Just:
Soul, purity, vision
New world order-divine
Truth, with faith in heart
Hope in veins, knowledge in mind
I write the future to claim
Victory
No more wounds.
Change is in vision.
Vision is clear.
Practice is in action.
Action is near.
Externally
Let go
Of these wounds

the art never dies

here is a piece i was truly inspired to create. check him out...miyabailey.com

Inspired by a great artist (first!!)...

He draws his dreams into existence
Sketching his hopes
Through tips built on passion and faith
A haunting habit that his soul breathes
Necessary feed, he bleeds,images
How deep
Each sight creates each masterpiece
Collisions and barricades of passion,love&pain
Life without would be meaningless
Love without would be worthless
Value is bestowed in his worth(work):
Greatness.
Blank slates, create outlets of space
Visionary guided by forces,
Natural movements.
With each blink, seconds spent closed canvas,Sketch book:dream land imagined;becomes.
Reality is rested in his ideals.
Bound by lines, colors, shapes, the feel.
Emotions manifested, observations
Of your passion touch many
Influence action
Retrace universal emotion:
Compassion
Desire
&need.
Close to heart, capturing each pump of life
Limited by time,
Yet available
The art never dies.
Production of perfection at war with priorities
And perception of loving art more
Than those tangible.
But: the obsession is within each breath.
And so it is within:
Public viewings, soul etched on all to see
Public feelings
Admired publically
Yet, only needing affirmation and confirmation
Within. mentally.
Always hungry,
Starving artist appetite despite years invested
Misunderstood by the desires of man
Aggression against time
Begging not to be wasted, spent in vain
Lost in the concept of creation.
Conscious controls living. All that is thought, is, and will be.
And he begins without instruction
Guided by movement
Requested by many
Misunderstood by plenty
Placing blame on man
For being only human
Admired, even envied for his craft.
Refreshing, eternal soul starving to be full
Yet exposed
Releasing visions, filling holes
But still left incomplete...
Just breathing...
With each sigh: inhale, exhale- relief.
As he draws his dreams into existence
With each movement comes inspiration
This haunting habit that has his soul
Breathes within him.. The art
Deep sigh: inhale, exhale, -relief.