Alkebulan S(o)n

Nubia, Kush, Kamit, Qamit, Sudan, Alkebulan – the treasured land of burned man.  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.

Really Tumblr??

Where do we go now? Newgrounds, Pillowfort, MeWe? What happened? Too much porn addiction or just some conservative, self-righteous influence that truly caused for Tumblr to bend and cower? It was a bit unbelievable until it actually happened.

Well, indeed a number of people have migrated to MeWe, and Colors of a Nudist led the way for many. It was such a dope Page in Tumblr, opening the minds of those who were on the fence about letting go and living a natural life. They promoted the various nudist gatherings across the globe, offered serious encouragement, and even good conversation if you needed. Essentially, they were the ideal social media platform for naturists of color in particular, and all naturist in general. It is inevitable – things change… and we will have to wait and see how this goes! (Fingers crossed) Find them by clicking the logo below.


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!
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.

Swords of WAR – aKofeNa

Reaching far across the lands with my mystical arms.  Understanding that truths were hidden and imposition was real, deeper than imagined.  A desperate need for talisman and weapon.  Find the SWORDS.  Grip firmly, and return to the chaos and wilderness armed with slashers and strategies.  The tools to defeat the madness.  Brass and bronze and wood and steel.  The mighty SWORDS represent, sharpened, carving earth being into GOD.

Showing the world the relentless and determined spirit, heading for a cosmic journey out of this realm and away from the shackles. Shedding the fears and false promises of a broken society. Reaching for stars, bursting with energy and higher vibrations. Sharps swords cut the tension and enemy and lies. Symbolic and special. No apologies on this space time continuum to F.R.E.E.D.O.M.


Delightful Read with a Soundtrack…
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.
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.
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.
She be on the Other Side, serving as Master Teacher,
cuz she a Suthin Gurl,
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?
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.
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.  Ya dig?

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.  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.  
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. 
An era where we have spoken so much that our ears bleed, 
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 – 
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 story 
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.  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 ills 
and live the good life 
free of the strife.
This land is your land.  
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?

Choices Pt. 1

You can watch me fly…
My soulmate, serving me well
Allowing me to dispel, all myths of utopia.
Blended minds, though crooked times
Make me wonder how true the tall tale is…
When I have seen glorious moments
And I am confused and alone
I rest upon my throne
Battered and bludgeoened
But I, force myself to stand tall
I look to the heavens.
My soul runs in the pastures
The colorful wild weeds
Decorating the land with grand
Understandings of life.
I saw a vision through it all.
I watched the heavy rain fall,
Then cleanse the earth
So that I may find refuge in the understated desire to redeem.
Habits formed from years of struggle.
From years of passing time.
From years of hustle and grind.
Making due,
When the path was not in clear view.
And then,
Dreams of soulmate and twin flame,
And love and lust
Refrain and restrain.
Frustrated – making a choice shouldn’t be this hard.
To Be Continued…

Rebuild the Core – Heri Za Kwanzaa!

We look to a Motherland that is methodically stripped of dignity.
…to the migratory power of a people that spread across a globe.

Where melanin and DNA’s carry across seas to shores in the West.

A Diaspora void of unity.
Where status has brought disease and shame.
I have sense shared the bludgeoned memories with a castaway nation
dreaming of a new day.
Wishing for clairvoyance and sensibility in a delusional struggle..
Marked by hapless boomers desperate to make ends meet,
Hoping to make sense of their decades of worship.
A day where brand endorsed ball players, where pop culture icons serve as parents,
role models, teachers, scholars.
I long for a day when the meek will inherit.
When we are no longer fighting for equality in a country that
claims to lead the free world.
A day where my ancestors don’t have to cringe to weep
in their grave.
Spirits screaming for its young to wake up.
I can see the light.
When we are no longer duped into believing that the word nigga is alright.
Perfection is not an option, never was, never will be,
But my dreams continue.
Dreams fading fast as I open my eyes into consciousness.
A state of depression that will be brought to justice from an overtaking of oppression.
Our ships will sail back, back to a land of conscious mind state.
Renovated nations emerging into Utopian blends of rhythms,
fruitful travels, and enriching story lines of once hidden secrets.
I greet this neurosis driven blessing void of the class and caste
endorsed Diasporic nations.
I shall encourage and follow the stars to this new place,
this birth tree of civilization.
A cradle for the overbearing Eurocentric process of dominance, deceit, and omission.
All races shall rise from their current state and levitate, merge souls, blend skies
and become the one truth, the white magic, and pure blackness.
This day draws near, respect levels heightened and flesh eaters frightened,
escaping a terror-driven righteousness.
We live through the nightmares, the false gods and false dreams
which destroy our natural goddess and the essence of our creative process.
We will no longer take guesses.
We will know, because the true knowledge of self comes from within.
Stand in your moment.
Listen to your soul;
feel the vibration from the ancestral spirits of old.
Seek soft, feminine blessings and lighten the steps.  Regress.
My time has come,
My mind has gone numb.
The sensation is kind and strong and balance and music and love and spirit and universe.
Take a journey with self-centered dyno creature.
Born and bred to unite, bless and build the core.
I am here to love you – My sister, my brother,
My neighbor
Hold me up, and I Will return the favor.