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The Lone Wolf Lie: Why Your Private Bag Will Rot Before It Saves You

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The Lone Wolf Lie: Why Your Private Bag Will Rot Before It Saves You Drop the hustle-porn mythology. The predatory culture that sold you the "self-made" fantasy lied to you. It convinced you that hoarding paper in a gated enclave makes you bulletproof. It taught you to brag about your solo grind while your community’s economic foundation bleeds dry. Wake up: A solitary granary in a starving village isn’t an asset. It’s a target. Pull up a chair. Take a slow, measured breath down into that power center two inches below the navel. Let the tension out of your shoulders. We are stepping square into the sovereign green current of Ujamaa—Cooperative Economics. Our ancestors left a warning encoded in the Zulu and Xhosa proverb: Indlela ibuzwa kwabaphambili —“The path is asked of those who have walked it before.” And who walked it before us? The brave warriors of Guinea-Bissau under Amílcar Cabral, who taught us that true sovereignty requires returning to the source and stripping off...
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Final GoodBye III- Writing for Healing

His Story is Mine

His story is mines,
Better yet my story is his,
For now I can no longer deal with what was,
Now I have to deal with what is.
A great tree has fallen in the forest of life,
A tree that provided shade for many and a shelter from strife.
But this is not the end of his tory for his story is mine,
And his story will live through his bloodline for all time.
His story is not over because his story is mine, and I need for his loved ones to read between the lines.
Although his body is gone his spirit is strong, that explains why through the pain and confusion he lived so long.
Fear not because his story is not over because his story is mine,
He has made it to peace and he rest with the divine
We are the seeds and saplings grafted from his tree and now he can rest in comfort for his story can be told by we.
His story is not over, because his story belongs to me
For I am a proud branch on his family tree, I will always remember those that came before, those that struggled like no people before.
Like Miles Brown and the lady known as Ms. Ann their stories will live because it was passed to my hands
Like Herman Brown and Rosa lee
Like Geneva and Herman brown the second, and Cleven Brown now can peacefully join their essence
Although his body has now been returned to the earth
His story and their story has been cemented  in  time by Cleven Miles Brown's birth.
His story his mine, his story is ours, his story is ours.
Now tell it.......

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