My Grandmother said this in her native tone of an African Language;                      

My child, we are all born innocent
Knowing neither war nor peace                

The world was created for everyone to live on
Either big or small
But the one purpose of life has long been buried,
To just live life on Earth                              

Even though, fairness is still in everyone,
Deep down in every bone                          

Then evil takes over, giving selfish desires                                                        

But However good we are, or evil we become,
It all depends on our parents
For our childhood affects our adult personality
"The child is father to man"                        

The discipline we get when young, is what makes us who we really are, when older                                                              

What they expose us to, is what your life may turn into                                        

Our backgrounds build our attitudes, perspectives and feelings                            

Some guardians are mocked by demons,
Well others praised by the Angels              

Mostly, it is the evil we choose to govern our hearts
To hate those with less opportunities, and to stick with the privileged                  

It is not the Race, Religion or Language that makes us a good person, but it is how we look at everyone, knowing that all are equal in the eyes of God                          

Imperfection should not even be the excuse, it is just what we let our brains feed on that makes us grow into what we want to be                                              

Then we treat others with less emotions, as though we ourselves are way too immune to their feelings                

It is the evil in me, the evil in you...and in all of us, that makes us hate another person for no reasons                                

It is not what we do or how we live our lives, but how we treat others, our judgment will be based upon                      

Therefore my child, seek your own way...that way which will make you extraordinary, that way that will make  all to  have a smile on their faces when they leave your presence

I let my Birthday begin when winter ends and when the summer morning light comes
earlier the way it should

Thats when i feel like starting new...
Meaning, I don't wait until the White-winged doves are back from Mexico,
and the Wildflowers
cover the hills
and my favorite Cactus bloom

On the October Seventh
I celebrate my Birthday
Here's what i do;
I walk around
I enjoy all day
and I hum, softly as I go
Finally, I unwrap the feast I've prepared for me and my guests

Then next year,
It happened to pass that way again
This year, I'll make it even better...
"....I'll bring an extra feast for everyone around...."

Seventh October....one of my greatest celebrations.
It lasts almost a week in the first of the month, And I wait all year for this summer day when the weather goes wild...

All  that week...there's change in me
During the first week of October,
I give full attention to the sky
And every time a streak of light goes shooting through the darkness, I feel my heart shoot out of me

One night i saw a fireball that left a long red blazing trail across the sky

After it was gone, I stood there looking up. not quiet believing what i'd seen

Poor African child....
Sorrows and heartbreaks are all you know,
Promises of a better home you are told,
But yet...
Deeds are so invisible to your clear sparkling naked brown eyes,
Death murdered your own shadow, and follows you everywhere...just a matter of time 'ntill you shake hands,
Melodies of a C4 and tunes of the M16 is all you listen to, as they sing in their killing sounds
Hope has left its own home, your heart...and has found comfort in those who control life,
To them, your life is as that of a fly, 'You live today, you die tomorrow'
Cries of your loved ones as they are being  murdered like wild animals and hunger around you is the best description of your compound,
The life of a slave is better than yours...for a slave has a master but you, you have masters....
Poor African child...the very words you know are; 'When is this going to be over, and see the sun shine above the clouds?'

I wish I was  a bird...
Then My songs would be heard by everyone and love it,
I would spread my wings wide and reach every round corner of the world,
Would show  my feathers so everyone will admire them,
Fly high, reach past the nimbus clouds as they would bring forth the rains to nourish the floor of my earth.....

I wish i was like a woman....
My kindness would be so comforting,
Gossip would never leave any part of me,
Though men would think I'm too weak...lets consider it to be Love,
He would know of all my sorrows, and all that troubles my soul...

I wish i was a musician....
My trumpets would bring merry in everyone's heart,
I would sing about life, and tell the troubled souls; Tomorrow's day will be better than the worse seen today,
My voice would be soul, breathe taking,
All i would care about are the women and children, make them believe Life has a purpose on its own
The soft strings of my guitar would pass here to ear and leave a melody to hear....for a life time