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Dismantle the Chicken’s Court: Why We Must Stop Begging the Slaughterhouse for Justice

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  Dismantle the Chicken’s Court: Why We Must Stop Begging the Slaughterhouse for Justice Family, Tribe, Warriors, Elders, and NationBuilders—Axe’ Axe’ Axe’! Today, on this sacred Thursday, July 2nd, 2026, we are stepping out of the emotional matrix of being mad, sad, and scared. We are locking into the mathematical precision of Ujamaa (Cooperative Economics) , vibrating on the high, life-giving frequency of the color Green. Our meditation for this hour is anchored by an uncompromising truth passed down through the porches of our history: "Maize cannot get justice in a chicken's court." Look closely at this wisdom. If you are the maize—the nourishment, the cultural brilliance, the life-giving seed of our community—and you continuously carry your economic grievances to a tribunal of chickens, stop acting surprised when you get devoured. A court of chickens wasn't built to cultivate the seed; it was designed from its very blueprint to consume it. Our journey today is cod...
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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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