Naturist Yoga
Author: Ali Jamal
Forever searching for the one: teacher, question, ether, lover, song, soul-mate, vibe...answer
Tatyana Fazlalizadeh – She Has It
Tatyana Fazlalizadeh is an artist… a woman of her time, taking control of her own narrative. Her portraits are so real, with a depth between the eyes of each face. Her messages are clear and insightful, bold and pioneering. Spike Lee didn’t “discover” her, but shout out to Spike for providing such a solid platform for Tatyana to stand on and share with the world a gem of a talent, a provocative, profound and beautiful spirit – telling stories with her brush. She’s Has It… Check her out at www.tlynnfaz.com/
She’s Gotta Have It
Mysteries of Life
It is increasingly difficult to understand how creative beings can speak of consciousness or getting to the next level and yet always be so angry. There is no need for that to continue. Meditate on a powerful and peaceful journey and begin to embrace the Hrt… The Hurt and the Heart. Healing is within reach.
I am the almighty ANKH
…Constructed from wire and wisdom
Here to wreak havoc on the evil intentions
And ascend onto high plains with the CREATOR FORCE – the dark matter.
The talisman that holds the power
From which you reveal the strength and structure.
I and the she, the goddess, in whom you dwell
until that day when all turn inward to greatness. My magnetic level stings in birth, pierces the earth and becomes master of self.
" People think that I'm crazy, just cause I wanna be alone
You can't depend on friends to help you in a squeeze
We all deal with sh.t on our own
And sometimes the beef can grow, get out of hand
Yeah, you know it gets full blown
I never said that you mean the world to me
Maybe it's best that you never know "
- The Roots - from A Clock with No Hands
Frequency Vol. 3
Mood Musik – Divine Feminine Expression
MUSES ed:1
The Goddess
I see you. I need you. Quench my thirst. Spark my fire and inspire my verse. Cause me to let out the lion’s roar …with your name in the growl. The sweet Goddess. I need my Muse. Awaken my spirit and give me strength with your attentive Beauty. Demand that I stand strong in the winds of change and in the dull moments, pull the inventive fire from my gut. And I will demonstrate the potency of your power (womb)manifested through art. The world will soon recognize the impenetrable nature of our existence and part like black sea. Allowing space for you and me. We create naturally.
Alkebulan S(o)n
Nubia, Kush, Kamit, Qamit, Sudan, Alkebulan – the treasured land of burned man. Â Tanned and toned and tuned for excellence.
I am the S(O)N of all. I am the all. I embrace the call. The inner God-Body, created through strands of greatness. Check this and never forget. I will not apologize for my truth or your enslavement. It has been a long journey and I shall travel on the boat along the waters of NU. I was born on the Nile. Where grand temples stand strong. Where the scrolls lie patiently – potent and pressing on in divine order.
…Of Nubian Core – I am the Alkebulan S(U)N.
Strangers
Strangers happening, why do we find ourselves dangling haplessly, not in control of our lives.
Intersect minds, revolution in front of the farce of the fitness and jurors and witness, we despise.
Bring down the light of truth and freedom. We, ring in the night and enter the kingdom,
when love and potion and distance and motion and knowledge of self, gains momentum …at last we will rise!
Strangers….
Finally forcing the shackles to break, to bend and to mend, to reach out and remake (from the lies.)
Here we go – one, two… pressing the ego to lay down the cloak and create the new dream in our eyes.
everyone searching for love,
looking for blessings from high up above,
we... lounge and frown, complain, restrain,
we... break, remain,
relinquish redemption for pleasure's exemption then die...
...because we don't rise, we cry, we lie,
to ourselves, denying the truth of the real,
get loose and reveal our weakness to the world.
We wear the Scarlet letters on chest and back and breast, in fact…
We act like we good, move back in the hood, we learn to let go, when we focus and flow,
The time comes to realize that our lies have crossed the skies and placed us in dungeons of destruction.
Infiltrated with dirty deeds when we should have been finding mates and planting seeds.
Future flying by, writing, just passing time. Production eludes, counselor concludes, that we need to lift up the burdens and blame, we lost the first game, but have chances to advance when we work the plan, travel the land and make the best of our tainted memory.
Strangers we call it cause love came too quick, friends look like dicks and curves deceived our minds, made us devils in flight, and third eyes went blind. And so consciousness conquers when virtue takes hold. The slips and stumbles be damned, and be bold. Mask coming off, and replaced it with gold.  As strangers, we embrace, the desire, to be cold.
Frequency Vol. 2
Mood Musik – charms the soul #virgoseason
Badoula
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Dangerous Queen…
Making music, mistakes, and babies.
Listening, learning, reading, writing.
Exciting every brotha in her gaze, dumbfounded and twisted in her maze.
She is fire and desire, burning the souls of cash money makers and rhyme slayers alike. Intellectuals and sell-outs.
They all love this culture crooner, exemplifying the kuumba.
Frightening love maker, ’cause her sexuality penetrates the minds of many.
She be selective with the penetrators.
Only the way true Queen get down.
Not pointless pumping from clowns, only cultivators who plant the seed deep.
Deep into womb, exposing orange moons, the doula dances to her own rhythm.
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Influencing the protégés, they are in need of courage and spirit and voice.
Still crushing critics with creativity.
Falling off the radar, then blasting the charts, hearts and souls of her love affair fans. This danger queen be bombing, sounding the alarm when the masses get caught up.
She spinning webs like cameras on celebs, coating and cloaking the eyes,
often operating in disguise.
The one who changed the game turned around and celebrated the lame, called the flesh eater ‘Brother’ on the big stage.
Flawed and fearless, shameful and tainted, but the queen still dips and delves in Motherland moves and righteous grooves.
The babies be made and born and paid and adorned by daddies.
Cyphers and talismans, smudging the challenges.
Danger queen on the scene.
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She be on the Other Side, serving as Master Teacher,
cuz she a Suthin Gurl,
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She be a beast wit it.
Don’t look her in the eyes, your third eye may go blind.
That’s how her power pushes through the elements.
You had best be on point, or soon become irrelevant.
No love is lost, just bring it or be tossed.
Nothing wrong with standing for what you believe in, right Ms. Wright?
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Well fact is, she is honest and fearless and I still love her.
Give me the chance and I’ll take her, make her my Mrs, make her my business.
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I could go on and on and on and on.
My eternal muse making me moan and yearn and groan and burn.
Sho nuff, my heart is foreva on fire for this Dangerous Queen. Â Ya dig?
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Peace.
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False Hoods
Brows bent as I break down the story of America.
This wrinkle in time had my forehead looking older than it should
Because I’m worried about my children, in my hood.
This plantation struggle prevalent as the past 10 generations.
This false emancipation.
This mass incarceration.
Androids filling voids.
Reality TV white house trends.
And Facebook friends.
Snatching our minds with the absolute worse rhymes
(With mumble, auto tune hooks)And the hooks. Â The hookers
With mind numbing madness
So caught up that we have to hate on each other
No idea what it means to be sister or brother
All we now know is currency flow…
Where is the black press?
Where is the voice of my own?
…Karibu to my zone.
Separated from reality when we continue to follow the typical trends.
We have become a subculture of talkers. Â
Running off at the mouth like diarrhea.
Vultures with fixed gaze, we drink, then blaze and get a false sense of security,
Good old fashioned liquid courage.
We now living in an of era of Trumped up charges.Â
An era where we have spoken so much that our ears bleed,Â
and we still proceed
…with the rally cry.
Where do we go from here?
To be continued…
Part 2
Young, gifted and BLACK,
And always under attack –Â
The cyber bully boldly blasting the brothers
On the world wide web.
Tweeted the hateful words
That shake the nation.
Holdin us back with destructive distraction
Fear gaining traction.
We live through it all
We live to tell the storyÂ
Witness the glory
Witness the well oiled oppression machine
Do its thing
Leaving massive fever on the forehead of the fear mongering.
America the beautiful…
The peaks and valleys, rivers and lakes.
Missteps and mistakes.
Nature serving as its mask.
Part 3
Wading in the water to justice.
Smelling the foul air.
Chest swells. Â Inhale – exhale.
Then blow the trumpet across the land we call the free.
The home,
Of the Brave.
Mellow and cool.
Using gun tools, focus on the target.
Don’t lose sight.
Know your right to fight.
Read to elevate the mind.
Be kind, then relentless with might.
Flee the degradation, the illsÂ
and live the good lifeÂ
free of the strife.
This land is your land. Â
Colored man, Afrikan.
Diasporic beauty.
Hues and shades and tones
And complexions perplexing.
Blend from within.
Cause the evolution is the revolution.
The paradigm shift is inevitable.
What role will you play?
Nubian Core - unapologetically free 