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So far, today has consisted of lots of time thinking about how long it will take for my twists to convert to dread locs, and prepping for my three hour reggae set tomorrow on WRIU. Those who know me are surely laughing at how unremarkable and almost generic this set of activities is for me, for you know how seriously I take hair and music.

Yet those who know me super duper well know it’s been a while since I last curated/selected/DJ’d, and know that before last week, I hadn’t twisted my hair in over a year.

And so it is that I approach and navigate today’s journey knowing that my roots are showing and celebrating me :-)

Share this:

So far, today has consisted of lots of time thinking about how long it will take for my twists to convert to dread locs, and prepping for my three hour reggae set tomorrow on WRIU. Those who know me are surely laughing at how unremarkable and almost generic this set of activities is for me, for you know how seriously I take hair and music.

Yet those who know me super duper well know it’s been a while since I last curated/selected/DJ’d, and know that before last week, I hadn’t twisted my hair in over a year.

And so it is that I approach and navigate today’s journey knowing that my roots are showing and celebrating me :-)

A Proclamation

A Proclamation
by Reza C. Clifton

One door shut.
The next one that opened
Led me to the vestibule of hell
Where witches were dressed like
magic fairies
And where warlocks place spells
On the souls
Of those who enter
And laugh at those
Whose awareness is
Nothing more than smokescreens
And shattered mirrors.
I want to escape this lair
But I don’t know the password
Nor do I know how to
get to the wizard
And the malnourishment
from which I suffer
Makes me stumble rather than walk
And fall instead of stand
I am ready to stay lain.
I am ready to ring the bell.
I am ready to admit defeat
A proclamation that for now
Is written but not declared.