 |  |  |  |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
HE CAN BE CONTACTED HERE
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
"The Test goes as such"
Am I happy and content?
Is my spirit aglow?
Do I smile every day?
Does my essence show?
Have I tasted success?
Are my choices all sound?
Am I strong in my trials?
Do I reign with my crown?
Does she comfort my pains?
Is she faithful to me?
Has she honored her vows?
Did she come with a fee?
Is her care from the heart?
Has she given support?
Does she cherish her role?
Does she frown on divorce?
If the answers are "YES!"
You have nothing to fear,
For her Queenship is pure
and her love is sincere.
JAY all rights reserved.
Copyright©2003
Remember when love
Was so simple :
Love notes
Winking eyes
Warm hugs
Clumsy kisses
Remember when love
Became daring:
Dates
Sex
Phone calls
Gifts
Remember when love
Became challenging:
Heartache
Pain
Frustration
Neglect
Now remember
The love we share :
Ponder …..
Reflect …..
Contemplate …….
Weigh it…….
Is it worthy
To be cherished?
Jay in Florida all rights reserved 2004
History
His story
Bestows all glory
Upon his culture,
And contend that before we
Were savages
Without discipline;
Illiterate,
And poor fisherman
Of knowledge;
Unworthy of college;
Our mind
Was deemed mentally retarded,
And our flesh accursed
By our Lord
For living worse
Than a horde
Of wild swine;
They said our kind
Were created to slave
And help them design
A heaven upon earth;
We have no rights;
No worth;
That’s our lesson of youth,
But when I grew
Into a man,
I knew
That I was being misled;
How can my Father ignore me?
Or despise me?
But this is only his story.
Our story.
A story of fact,
That there was Black
Before White,
Although I‘ll never react
As a racist,
But I’m proud,
For historical places
Have allowed
You to witness skills;
The strength of our will;
The mentality
Of people who’ve built
What you fail to understand;
Our knowledge is grand;
Our examples;
The blueprint by which man
Has elevated to reign,
And make nature submit;
Undeniable;
So make the writings legit
For all nations to view;
Give the Africans their due;
The free ones;
And the stolen ones too,
For no matter the land
Our souls are as one;
A clan
Who deserve more than crumbs
At the feast,
So hear the cry of our glory;
In the East,
We have achieved
our story.
JAY IN FLORIDA Copyright©2003
SAFE DRIVERS
Excuse me Lord
May I have your advice
I'm trying to get
to the Paradise
Where there's many mansions
streets paved in gold
no pain or no evil
no poverty I'm told
In this world that I live in
there's so many paths
that mankind has constructed
it's too difficult to grasp
If the end of their road
Will let you and I meet
for I'm told to beware
of those dead end streets
as a child I remember
I was given a map
that said take Christian Road
and the angels shall clap
as I come to the gates
of the Paradise Inn
So I drove the speed limit
and swerved around sin
But I ended up wrecking
in the days of my youth
I got lost for my spirit
couldn't pay the toll booth
So I retraced my map
and chose Judaism Lane
for I'd heard of it's glamour
it's fortune and fame
But a mile in my journey
it started to storm
and my vision then blurred
for the sky was adorned
with not one single light
to help aid as my guide
the stars disappeared
and the sun chose to hide.
So I took out my flashlight
and studied my map
for the gates I had come to
had barb wire strapped
From the top to the bottom
and all in between
there was anguish inside
So I fled from the scene.
Yet, although I was weary
I detoured and flew
like a bat out of hell
down Muslim avenue,
I was greeted with ,"Peace".
from the people I passed
and I felt in my heart
I would find you at last
But their avenue was baffling
with so many turns
that I gave out of gas
yet my spirit still yearns
For those coveted directions
that only you know
so I now follow nature
and pray that you show
In its manifest signs
where the Paradise is
for a man's days are numbered
only one life we live.
So when angels surround me
to reclaim my soul
I desire to walk
down those streets paved of gold
If the map that I need
is inside of your books
then I ask you for strength
as I ponder and look,
For you know that ole devil
will alter my view,
cast a veil on my face
for he's blinded a few
of the ones who make maps
and declare it'll suffice
Lord show me the way
to the Paradise.
Only his directions can led to
Paradise because a man's are
prone to error.
JAY Florida Copyright©2003
EVIL S ROOT
A rectangular piece of paper,
With a presidential bust;
Symbolic signs and symbols,
On the back “IN God We Trust”.
A crème and greenish hue;
A value in the corner;
So many made in the USA,
‘til the present and the former;
The end result is tragic,
generations of our country,
should possess a healthy share.
But yet I see the destitute,
and those who need welfare;
So I must pose the questions,
How did some acquire more than others?
How did some get more than others?
How did some get barred from any?
How did some acquire their brother’s?
The answers are appalling,
For the times will never change,
The power of the dollar ,
Grants the Evil One his fame.
A dad deceives his son;
A mom deceives her daughter;
With no conscience of the slaughter.
A son will rob his dad;
A daughter will rob her mom;
A country will it’s people,
With no conscience of the harm.
For my country’s soul is tainted;
The picture being viewed,
Isn’t the real one that ‘s been painted.
I see inside those beady eyes,
Of Presidents of yore;
A wicked past of cruel deeds,
And bodies washed ashore;
From slavery boats that set their sails,
From whence my culture came;
And all they ’ve seen,
Was crème and green,
No pity or no shame.
I see inside the pyramid,
With the lone, all seeing eye;
A unified, deceitful code,
That they shall justify;
Whatever sins that they amass,
In the name of truth and wisdom;
And ask that we,
Society,
Be thankful for what we’re given.
I see inside “in God We Trust”,
The hands of the hypocrite;
Whose only aim is to get his due,
And the crumbs he leaves to be split.
So why am I to hope and pray,
That some day I ‘ll obtain;
My equal share of my land’s wealth,
When it has been made plain;
The “haves” and” have nots”
And after all the “haves” are fed,
We’re left to scrape the pot.
Although I must survive and strive,
To get my meager wages;
My soul’s at peace and pure as snow,
And never do I go through stages;
Where all my money and riches,
Can’t keep me from feeling low;
Where happiness is strange to me
Although my pains don’t show.
I’ll always be the poor old man,
Whose heart is full of wealth;
Whose money will be blessed by God,
For I’m not all for self.
I will not give the Evil One,
The pleasure of a smile,
Because I stole my dollar bills
From someone else’s pile.
JAY all rights reserved 2003