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Stop Screaming, Start Governing: Why Loudness Is Low-Key Weakness

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Stop Screaming, Start Governing: Why Loudness Is Low-Key Weakness We live in a culture drunk on outrage. Everybody has a loud opinion, a mic, or a keyboard, yet so few actually have control over their own lives. We mistake volume for strength and emotional outbursts for power. But let’s keep it real: if every minor trigger makes you explode, you aren't powerful—you're controlled. On July 28, 1917, nearly 10,000 Black men and women walked down Fifth Avenue in New York City in complete, disciplined silence during the historic Silent Parade. No screaming at the oppressors, no begging, no wasting breath on deaf ears. Just the steady, rhythmic beat of muffled drums and an unyielding, self-determined presence that rattled the entire country. They didn't surrender; they weaponized focus. That is Kujichagulia —Self-Determination in its purest form. Grounded in the deep, sacred indigo frequency, Kujichagulia demands that you hold the pen to your own life. When you stay stuck in the ...
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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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