Hands on Atlanta day
October 2nd
9am-1pm
This past May I completed my second year of service with Hands on Atlanta AmeriCorps program.
I started out in 2008, looking for a job, a way into the school system, a program to help me learn more about giving back, helping students, and learning new ways to advertise myself. It was all of that and more. While struggling to maintain a personal life through a car accident and numerous doctor visits... I found comfort in my job of serving.
I decided to continue my service over the summer as a summer VISTA worker with Fugees Family. We held an academic camp at Agnes Scott where the boys biked from Clarkston, attended classes, worked on group projects and were rewarded with adventurous trips to places around the city. This experience opened not just my mind to learning about different cultures, but my heart to appreciating a diversity of experiences.
And so I was back with Hands on Atlanta for the 2009 starting year. Now in a place of leadership with my own team of tutors, I was able to utilize the skills I learned in the prior terms of service. To sum it all up : I am a DOER! Things got done! There was never a dull moment while serving!
Now I am at a different place in my life. A new job. A different type of student. A different type of schooling. And yet I am still serving. Most importantly...the irony is Hands on Atlanta will be helping to beautify my school this coming Saturday on Hands on Atlanta Day.
Everything has come full circle.
##### Hands on Atlanta Day is a day of service. Throughout the city of Atlanta projects will take place at various sites, which include an array of things from cleaning to painting. Typically known for planting trees, beautifying neighborhoods, or adding murals to schools and communities, Hands on Atlanta day for me has always been a day to enjoy. #####
www.handsonatlanta.org
So please sign up for a project!
Show up at a project!
Give back your time and energy to YOUR community!
It will come full circle but only with YOUR help!
If you would like to come help at my school we are located in the East Atlanta Village area... and just shoot me an email!
Hands on Atlanta day
October 2nd
9am-1pm
THANK YOU
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
For my brothers "Imagine"
Imagine getting the phone call that everything has changed
Imagine feeling you are reliving whips and chains
Imagine thinking everything in life pays
Imagine miSsing birthdays and your own parties for arraignment
Imagine never touching your newborn twins hands
Imagine loving three sons you never planned
Imagine not knowing when you will see a real bed again
Worrying about sentencing,reality,business, and family
Imagine traveling the states in a way you never envisioned
Transferring from facility to facility
Networking from the inside like your making moves out
Imagine still being on top even when everyone says otherwise
People wearing shirts saying free you
Missing you, like they mourning you
Imagine being smarter than your wise mentors
Knowledge prior to trial and tribulations
Read all those books before you made this bed you're laying in
48 laws of powerful reminders
Imagine still being a parent
Checking in on meals, activities and engagements
First days of school
Hearing "I wuv you" for the first time
Silly laughs, giggles and miss you's from children you never seen
Imagine adapting to everything foreign yet familiar
Since this isn't your first time
Imagine reliving your denials, replaying your moves
consciously playing chess
Risking pawns for the king
Everyday is a game of strategy
Imagine sleeping on the top bunk for years
Straight climbing over dudes
Physically and metaphorically
Grinding in baby steps, learning to walk through
Imagine living among strangers
Who now become your family of goons
At any moment it could all be over for someone
Humanity is temporary
The end always comes soon.
Imagine your only way of communicating is with words
Spoken truths of your reality that soon should have been over a while ago
What happens when you don't feel like writing?
Who will know your joys and pains?
Imagine you've lived off quality cuisine for years
Now you're shifted like cattle
Meals are never cooked fully
Barely seasoned
And your body rejects everything.
How would you survive?
Imagine bathing in a common area
All eyes on you pretty boy
Who is tough now?
But what happens when you are homesick?
Imagine you haven't seen a familiar face in months
Or what it feels like to hug a loved one
What is familiarity when everything is temporary?
Imagine your freedom is all just a state of being
Powered by your mind
The art of war then becomes internal
Balancing yourself within yourself
Are you ready to face the mirror?
Imagine existing,
Adapting
Making it.
Imagine this is you.
Your loved one.
Your kin.
Imagine this is the story of one.
But the life of many.
Reality is real.
Don't imagine.
Imagine feeling you are reliving whips and chains
Imagine thinking everything in life pays
Imagine miSsing birthdays and your own parties for arraignment
Imagine never touching your newborn twins hands
Imagine loving three sons you never planned
Imagine not knowing when you will see a real bed again
Worrying about sentencing,reality,business, and family
Imagine traveling the states in a way you never envisioned
Transferring from facility to facility
Networking from the inside like your making moves out
Imagine still being on top even when everyone says otherwise
People wearing shirts saying free you
Missing you, like they mourning you
Imagine being smarter than your wise mentors
Knowledge prior to trial and tribulations
Read all those books before you made this bed you're laying in
48 laws of powerful reminders
Imagine still being a parent
Checking in on meals, activities and engagements
First days of school
Hearing "I wuv you" for the first time
Silly laughs, giggles and miss you's from children you never seen
Imagine adapting to everything foreign yet familiar
Since this isn't your first time
Imagine reliving your denials, replaying your moves
consciously playing chess
Risking pawns for the king
Everyday is a game of strategy
Imagine sleeping on the top bunk for years
Straight climbing over dudes
Physically and metaphorically
Grinding in baby steps, learning to walk through
Imagine living among strangers
Who now become your family of goons
At any moment it could all be over for someone
Humanity is temporary
The end always comes soon.
Imagine your only way of communicating is with words
Spoken truths of your reality that soon should have been over a while ago
What happens when you don't feel like writing?
Who will know your joys and pains?
Imagine you've lived off quality cuisine for years
Now you're shifted like cattle
Meals are never cooked fully
Barely seasoned
And your body rejects everything.
How would you survive?
Imagine bathing in a common area
All eyes on you pretty boy
Who is tough now?
But what happens when you are homesick?
Imagine you haven't seen a familiar face in months
Or what it feels like to hug a loved one
What is familiarity when everything is temporary?
Imagine your freedom is all just a state of being
Powered by your mind
The art of war then becomes internal
Balancing yourself within yourself
Are you ready to face the mirror?
Imagine existing,
Adapting
Making it.
Imagine this is you.
Your loved one.
Your kin.
Imagine this is the story of one.
But the life of many.
Reality is real.
Don't imagine.
Joski Diesel
Blog Feature: AinHD-----Post: "Feed the People"
AinHD is a beautiful sistah queen!
Please check out her blog : http://ainhd.blogspot.com/
I'm blessed. In spite of the stress from family, school and scrounging up moments for my creative process - I eat. I know that I'll never go hungry. I know that I'll always have a place to lay my head. Sometimes, I sleep well having these comforts, but I'm also tormented by that fact that so many people lack what many of us consider 'simple pleasures'. Food, clothing and shelter is not a given - it should be. Unfortunately, in our hypocritical, dream-selling, capitalistic 'democracy', we have an alarming number of disenfranchised people who have no idea where their next meal is coming from. This is where FTP comes in.
While many large nonprofit businesses hoard money and boast colorless directors, FTP is of and for the people. I've enjoyed being around the positive energy of these mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, artists, revolutionaries and agents of change. It's such a incredible feeling to hit the streets with a grassroots organization that truly turns thought into action.
With that, I challenge Metro Atlanta - and I leave you with a piece from my collection [If] Life's Rotten, Write to the Core.
To My Skin Deep Revolutionaries
My lyrics send intangible postcards
To pseudo intellects and skin-deep revolutionaries
“I wish you were here”
Because I refuse to spit sacrificial rhymes in ya ear
Which I release into space in the form of art
And abandon when I get them off my heart
I’m trying to reach beyond being a well-versed revolutionary
And transform into a rehearsed revolutionary
I’d rather turn my black back against the system
Than floss a koufe yellin’ “Black is back son!”
In the form of a souped-up poem
Having rhyme but no reason
Other than the fact that the notion of bucking the system is in season
Like cats who like to wear their poems
You know the type who find a cause and try it on
Like those really earthy kids who think being socially conscious
Is synonymous with wearing a multitude of buttons
Transforming themselves into walking slogans
So at best I can slap a skin-deep revolutionary on my bumper
One who, like me, knows the system is still a virgin
But don’t realize to get by we’ve got to do more than hump her with words
We’ve gotta love her with verbs
Love her until she bleeds justice and breeds equality
And accepts the responsibility of taking care of our black babies
I’ve gotta be more than a skin-deep revolutionary
A pseudo intellect or a watered-down activist
Taking advantage of words and neglecting action
Like those who sub their bling with beads to prepare
For their poems on Sierra Leone
Because their revolution is only skin deep
But I want my revolution to scream like me
So this is my lyrical postcard, and “I wish you were here”
Please check out her blog : http://ainhd.blogspot.com/
I'm blessed. In spite of the stress from family, school and scrounging up moments for my creative process - I eat. I know that I'll never go hungry. I know that I'll always have a place to lay my head. Sometimes, I sleep well having these comforts, but I'm also tormented by that fact that so many people lack what many of us consider 'simple pleasures'. Food, clothing and shelter is not a given - it should be. Unfortunately, in our hypocritical, dream-selling, capitalistic 'democracy', we have an alarming number of disenfranchised people who have no idea where their next meal is coming from. This is where FTP comes in.
While many large nonprofit businesses hoard money and boast colorless directors, FTP is of and for the people. I've enjoyed being around the positive energy of these mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, artists, revolutionaries and agents of change. It's such a incredible feeling to hit the streets with a grassroots organization that truly turns thought into action.
With that, I challenge Metro Atlanta - and I leave you with a piece from my collection [If] Life's Rotten, Write to the Core.
To My Skin Deep Revolutionaries
My lyrics send intangible postcards
To pseudo intellects and skin-deep revolutionaries
“I wish you were here”
Because I refuse to spit sacrificial rhymes in ya ear
Which I release into space in the form of art
And abandon when I get them off my heart
I’m trying to reach beyond being a well-versed revolutionary
And transform into a rehearsed revolutionary
I’d rather turn my black back against the system
Than floss a koufe yellin’ “Black is back son!”
In the form of a souped-up poem
Having rhyme but no reason
Other than the fact that the notion of bucking the system is in season
Like cats who like to wear their poems
You know the type who find a cause and try it on
Like those really earthy kids who think being socially conscious
Is synonymous with wearing a multitude of buttons
Transforming themselves into walking slogans
So at best I can slap a skin-deep revolutionary on my bumper
One who, like me, knows the system is still a virgin
But don’t realize to get by we’ve got to do more than hump her with words
We’ve gotta love her with verbs
Love her until she bleeds justice and breeds equality
And accepts the responsibility of taking care of our black babies
I’ve gotta be more than a skin-deep revolutionary
A pseudo intellect or a watered-down activist
Taking advantage of words and neglecting action
Like those who sub their bling with beads to prepare
For their poems on Sierra Leone
Because their revolution is only skin deep
But I want my revolution to scream like me
So this is my lyrical postcard, and “I wish you were here”
i am my brothers' sister
my little brother is home.
anticipation has been killing me all year.
next : 11.11.11
anticipation has been killing me all year.
next : 11.11.11
Monday, September 27, 2010
Overstand
I
Overstand
You.
Overstand
You.
The feeling...
Connected.
The knowing...
The impurity of it all.
The innocence.
The mixture of everything
Unknown yet familiar.
The " this aint right" feeling.
"Wish it was" feeling.
This feels nice.
BUT..
Making you think twice feeling.
Second guessing yourself repeatedly.
The feeling, the knowing.
Questioning internal motives.
Attempting to balance external realities.
How does my mind process all of this?
I am.
Present.
Searching for loopholes.
Trying not to like this feeling.
Trying to find a reason to enjoy this feeling.
Trying.
Wondering "why is this happening to me" That feeling...
Nervous yet calm
Relaxed but uptight
In denial!
Even though I can feel confirmation.
A reflection of the other side.
A desire of the other side.
A trip to the other side.
You are the other side.
Something to add to my list.
Out of reach
But so close.
Present.
In every sense of Now.
I overstand you.
I overstand.
The feeling.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
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