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#ancestry
magnatized minds deep erosion blood rivers ancient pathways sedimentary stardust
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May 15
May 15, 2026 at 9:37 AM UTC
10w magnatized minds
Horses drum the earth, hooves strike fire, hooves strike dust. Wheels creak, canvas snaps, wind whispers secrets we must trust. Hands hover—tea leaves spin, crystals catch the sun, cards flip, palms reveal what the world cannot hold. Blood hums hidden roads, brotherhood shadows, secret codes, magic flows in veins, fire alive in every stride. I am the caravan’s echo, smoke, cards, palms, wind, dust. Child of shadowed paths, keeper of secrets, blood of magic, and in this blood, I am whole. I am free.
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Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 5:48 AM UTC
Chant of the Caravan
It’s the jewels of genetics, A poignant reminder of ***** matter, As it trickles down hill onto my head, I fear that I’m not at the bottom, But a ridge with many below. A derivative of sobs and sorrows, One tragedy after the next, Like many before, passing along the torch, Belting operatic Soprano with bravado, The show must go on but for whom? We get what we give to the descendants, A legacy of fables with no lesson learned, To be cursed by the lack of knowing, Or the universe aiming to antagonize, All of whom that shares my blood. Is it the bad that finds the weak, Or is it the weak that consumes the good, Washing away the glory of goodness, As God bows his head in contempt, For all that we take for granted. A peasant bunch that wallows, Schemers that claim nobility and honor, Love is but a chore or a duty to serve, A rite of passage rooted in misery, Thanks to… who or what? The butterflies fly far away, As the tornado whirls against their wind, Unbeknownst to them, It was their wings that caused this storm, Incapable of preventing its destruction. In time, that clock will stop ticking, And what am I do now? Is it the inevitable realization, That what they did poorly, Was the failed attempt at brotherhood. My tears are shed with shame, As my keepers appear to be at blame, For all that was failed to keep tame, Through the course of this ancestral game, We showcase our mediocrity all the same.
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Jan 3
Jan 3, 2026 at 5:29 PM UTC
The Curse
She met him on a bridge. I do believe we love at first sight, Since we “see” the person within the first 30 seconds, But that is beside the point— I think that they were pondering on diving, Not knowing whether the water was cold. I’d like to believe That they saved one another On that bridge, Bringing my ancestors together, In a loving embrace, Or, even, a kiss, too. Or just a hand Leading them Off from the edge of a bridge And in-love. ©2025Ellen Finn
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Nov 16, 2025
Nov 16, 2025 at 1:07 AM UTC
Miss Scarlett (in Budapest, Hungary)
_An opening statement:_ "I am the son of a son— who son a son from the sweat of forefathers, working under the sun. And I’ve lived my days under a sun of my own— so depressed, that often my depression became a weapon against my depression. _In a deeper sense_— I am senseless to the touch of what’s called real, to sense less of love, raised on fantasy, but starved by reality. My expression comes and goes— words that soar, then swoop, pecking and clawing, a bird in season, a vulture to its own despair— feeding on misplaced hopes. _Yet I remember the soil I came from,_ I am a son of a son of that son— when one sun sets, another shall rise. Born to burn, born to light; knowing even the blind can feel it's shine. For though the weight of the world rests on my crown, I am still my father’s dawn— the morning they prayed would come.
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Oct 13, 2025
Oct 13, 2025 at 8:52 AM UTC
Son of a Sun
If these walls could talk, many stories will unfold, From the past, present and future, Is history being told!! Just look around and just see, The Vintage, and the quality, of how long things have lasted, To this day, is well kept beautifully!! A House that's of the old, a lineage, from way back when, for many generations have come and gone, that has so much history within!! If these walls could talk, they would tell you, about your ancestral, historical past, It is now passed down to your era, So, that your Ancestry will Last!! B.R. Date: 5/10/2025
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May 10, 2025
May 10, 2025 at 1:35 PM UTC
If these walls could talk
As I drive along the country side I see that everything when white And then the days are short It’s 2 pm….but the sun is setting Soon it will be night and in that dismal Sunset I see a silhouette of farming equipment It remained me of my ancestral homeland The vast and dismal wastes of siberia And Central Asia! For know I am in the land of the dead!
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Dec 26, 2024
Dec 26, 2024 at 3:13 AM UTC
Dismal
I am multi coloured As in multiethnic For I am arab, Chechen, Roma, And central Asian Himalayan and Uighur But that has been me since I always all over the **** M A P That is my DNA Hence I am multicoloured
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Dec 18, 2024
Dec 18, 2024 at 12:47 PM UTC
Multicoloured
I consider my existence a series of soul ties. They are not just to any old dead And they share something other than what science said they did A birthright, a lineage A path of light, or shadow They passed down pieces of their soul Comprised of the souls that came before them So I think it's more than DNA or DNA is more than science And science is more than what it says Sometimes I forget Because I see breathing blood And it's not in a vacuum And its not all blood But then I remember How she wanted to be a career woman Or how another spoke Spanish Or how he wrote a book left unpublished Strange and magical, beautiful While tired, hidden, and creating Just as I am Tired of conjugation, childless, and writing I consider my existence a series of soul ties An inheritance of affinities A set of dreams bursting to break through.
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Oct 13, 2024
Oct 13, 2024 at 1:46 PM UTC
Ancestral
The upper branches Of the Family Tree Are visible. I'm not near the base Where I used to be. There are fewer branches above; And as I move there's More and less to love. Some limbs above have broken, Suffered drought and heat Through the elements of life. But the trunk is true, strong, Stalwart and flexible As the lineage of its rings, These expanding circles of life. And above, The transplanted branches Were rooted with love. Sprouts apppear below, As further up I go. And my limbs Are moving slow.
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Oct 7, 2024
Oct 7, 2024 at 1:46 PM UTC
The Family Tree
Home is calling I hear it's voice It's arms wide open An African embrace I smell the grass Feel the soil on my feet My focus on home Runs so so deep The warmth, the freedom The people, the trees, Africa is calling Like a song in the breeze My roots are grounded So firmly planted A long time before Colonialism started I see jacarandas I hear hyenas Joyful singing Dancing till morning The wide smiles Cheerful eyes Ubuntu is everything Under these skies The sun is glowing On a wide African sky Insects chirping As the sun says goodbye From all over Africa Came my people To my tiny land Of my heritage I'm there in spirit I dream every night Ask ancestors to guide me Back home when the time is right To sit with the baobab To feel the connection Something so deep In my soul, a protection To go back in time At mighty Magelies Sit in silence In the area of our birthplace The cradle of humankind Is not just a name It's real, still there A place from where we all came As old as the hills An English saying Well here you can feel it These hills have seen everything The warmth The safety The love The humility And my motherland Isolated, alone, A jewel in the ocean Where few of us call home I feel the longing To be back With my brothers and sisters My soul is black Nothing fills the void Of our heritage calling Africa, St Helena, Calling and calling Africa is ours St Helena is mine Those not visited Won't understand My roots are firm...... Nomkhumbhulwa 🍀
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Aug 31, 2023
Aug 31, 2023 at 11:29 AM UTC
Roots
"And he created out of one man every nation of men, to dwell upon the entire surface of the earth, and he decreed the appointed times and set limits of the dwelling of man." (Acts 17: 26) (New World Translation Study Edition) When I look in the mirror, a doughty warrior, an oracle, an Olympian gazes back at me. The caramel-tinge of my skin tells of the colored pedigree from whence I came. Every ebony-tendril that bursts from my epidermis is as impregnable as the Sacred Lotus. The history of my Mind's Sky has been tried by the Ancient African Sun of my ancestors. It is my hope, that I have passed the trials decreed by the ordinances of the Moon & Sun. Moreover, the Arbiter of Fates, Jah, dawns upon our fleshly vessel at each twilight, assaying our entities. (Isaiah 60: 19, 20) (New World Translation Study Edition) So many intrepid souls have compassed me about. The Chalice of my Heart burgeons with esprit d' amour. The meaning of life is ne' er about intellect, is ne' er about achievement, is in part, about creativity; wholly, about Love. (John 13: 34, 35) (New World Translation Study Edition) For this reason, strength cascades upon me every moment as I witness the brilliance, the resilience of my beneficent matriarch, Stacy Amanda Foulke. In life, I have learned that being a person of color in America is not only a wonderful privilege, but a responsibility. Why? The afflictions brought upon this skin only make it glisten brighter after convalescence. Our people have suffered inordinately so, but this is conducive to cultivating surpassing empathy. Therefore, I believe that history, as begotten through the colored legacy, shall be one of ultimate victory. If and only if, we unfetter ourselves from the onerous burdens of the past, then Monarchical Wings shall burgeon from our Astral Chrysalis. "For though the tribulation is momentary and light, it works out for us a glory that is of more and more surpassing weight and is everlasting." (1st Corinthians 4: 17) (New World Translation Study Edition) Se' lah.
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Feb 12, 2021
Feb 12, 2021 at 6:54 PM UTC
The Culture of Beginnings (Originally penned on Wednesday, April 15th, 2020)
"And he created out of one man every nation of men, to dwell upon the entire surface of the earth, and he decreed the appointed times and set limits of the dwelling of man." (Acts 17: 26) (New World Translation Study Edition) When I look in the mirror, a doughty warrior, an oracle, an Olympian gazes back at me. The caramel-tinge of my skin tells of the colored pedigree from whence I came. Every ebony-tendril that bursts from my epidermis is as impregnable as the Sacred Lotus. The history of my Mind's Sky has been tried by the Ancient African Sun of my ancestors. It is my hope, that I have passed the trials decreed by the ordinances of the Moon & Sun. Moreover, the Arbiter of Fates, Jah, dawns upon our fleshly vessel at each twilight, assaying our entities. (Isaiah 60: 19, 20) (New World Translation Study Edition) So many intrepid souls have compassed me about. The Chalice of my Heart burgeons with esprit d' amour. The meaning of life is ne' er about intellect, is ne' er about achievement, is in part, about creativity; wholly, about Love. (John 13: 34, 35) (New World Translation Study Edition) For this reason, strength cascades upon me every moment as I witness the brilliance, the resilience of my beneficent matriarch, Stacy Amanda Foulke. In life, I have learned that being a person of color in America is not only a wonderful privilege, but a responsibility. Why? The afflictions brought upon this skin only make it glisten brighter after convalescence. Our people have suffered inordinately so, but this is conducive to cultivating surpassing empathy. Therefore, I believe that history, as begotten through the colored legacy, shall be one of ultimate victory. If and only if, we unfetter ourselves from the onerous burdens of the past, then Monarchical Wings shall burgeon from our Astral Chrysalis. "For though the tribulation is momentary and light, it works out for us a glory that is of more and more surpassing weight and is everlasting." (1st Corinthians 4: 17) (New World Translation Study Edition) Se' lah.
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6
That time I stepped out And felt a pull deep inside As ancients drew my breath, Asked not to neglect their presence These ghosts of ages past These ancestral spirits I knew before my birth A past Past All memories Muscle snd bone memories Formed but not informed A peculiar déjà vu. Were these to be my late counsel? Guiding me, cleansing me As I traversed this new path? I know them awhile Assailing me for dismissing them then. I shout to them as winter approaches. That I wasn’t ready… It took all my strength To lift my arm And wave goodbye.
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Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 4:01 PM UTC
The Glen Before Colmcille
Time weathered it  Worn by salt and wind  A testament to man and sea And the sheer determination to survive. Boats come in and out with the tides Waves unrelenting... Remember your roots As the sea ravishes over rock. There are few who stop to care, But there is stillness to be found here There is a magic in these misty cliffs As the water crashes onto rockface Sending turrets of spray into the air And spiney fingers cascading down. A race to reunite. The ocean  moves... A lobster *** buoy bobs up and down The cliff erodes, ever so slowly Seagulls sit on a cliff edge perhaps resting, i do not know A wave passes by Teetering on the edge of explosion I do not see it break as it passes out of view. The surging ocean delights me Dancing over rock Having no care for destruction Safety or form It moves as it must As it sees fit Taking the best and only path. Accepting its new form in each moment Giving life, Taking life It cares not. It must only move and this it knows  You are welcome, but beware
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Feb 17, 2023
Feb 17, 2023 at 2:54 PM UTC
Time and tide
At dusk near Sunset and night fall I see I farmers Field Look barren as the talklamakan desert In the middle of autumn I think of my ancestors From east Turkestan
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Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 8:34 PM UTC
Barren
A vintner of aged leaves in the wine-press of the sun, Thin-skinned like the lucent grapes from the vine-runs Of the island trellises and teal-cordoned waves, lowest slung Fruit-laden bough of sky, Sicily, whose ateliers of rolled cigarettes And uprolled sleeves like tides tease smoke into studio paints, The black apple wine of storm made into mouthfuls of pulp rain, Before the sunrise is gathered again in fishing nets and crab pots, The coastal towns with their salted roofs of pied clay and pigeons Along the lava stone streets, and night from the chanteuse of Egypt, Singing her coral to heron, as when her bird-like barefooted slaves Left tracks across Old Kingdom wastes, so this dreaming old man Leaves his wrinkles to these grapes and across the sand-island pillow, Asleep with his fathers, hay-hauling peasants of wandering darkness.
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May 26, 2020
May 26, 2020 at 8:02 PM UTC
The Old Painter of Sicily
Our family tree Woah is me Has termites No pictures to prove Who is who Boo hoo hoo Should it matter Would it make us sadder If we searched the history of us Would we find We are royalty Or just of the toilet seat We might find the dad Who went away Or was just led astray Find the town We are from Exact locations say some A can Of worms Or just deserts Do we have to know Will it make us Grow Maybe all we need Is these little seeds Of us now to plant The small tree Start fresh Of just you and me
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Feb 21, 2020
Feb 21, 2020 at 10:41 PM UTC
Sapling
a sire of Oliver is spring in Baganda with carafe here might muse the daughter in craft and slaughter now leader for features incumbent in the sprawl of louche theatrics to vanish in mire
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Dec 25, 2019
Dec 25, 2019 at 7:41 AM UTC
Kissames
genealogy family tree treasure hunt— come to your census
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Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 3:46 PM UTC
ancestry whack-a-mole
Can I find you past Mount Hua, After crossing Cao’e River, Through the fields of Longkou, Will I be walking for long? Sat, waiting for the train to go To take me where I am supposed to be Head pressed against the cold window I want that seat. Lost among the frames And paths between stones You should be somewhere among The busy laying down of flowers I want to know A fickle not fitting anywhere A missing piece, Just wandering. Who do I owe my existence to. Who brought me here. I would kneel down to you And offer my deepest gratitude Tired of floating up in the air Just whisked around by the wind. The tree with roots is stronger The clouds so lonely. Breezing by, the single leaf Stuck in this one state I’ll walk alone with my two legs Don’t worry, I’ll continue to go But where are you? The people who came before me Blocks of my past You’re going too far I’m lost. This voice, The voice formed Trying to reach out It’s calling out It can’t let go, Where it came from. Every sunshine, Every storm, It surrounds us Brings us to life. I’ll always look up And see it like you. Going past Mount Hua Alone among the clouds Who put me here I want to know. I’ll travel long And so far, I’ve been walking for long. I’ll put my respects Will you see me I won’t be disappointed I’ll lay down everything Just to have my place. Left away Those a part of me I’m walking through the path But where are you?
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Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 3:47 AM UTC
Ancestral Rite
Parade of bones, ride high Filling up the whole sky, Past where my hands can't reach. Bleached by sun and twisting, Hanging like chimes singing. Dance on, something like free. You'll be gone tomorrow, Split and cracked for marrow, Pouring out your lifeblood. Down below, the living Never got forgiving, And it sure ain't easy.
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Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 2:00 PM UTC
clouds, like faces in heaven
My Dakota plains Broken by clusters of trees That surround farms Connected by black thin lines Draped between poles That follow roads Or a shortcut across fields On giant steel mannequins Standing watch over Corn, beans, sunflower Or cows or horses Or sheep On My Dakota prairie With rich black dirt That feed crops And sustain our towns Our clusters of life Our family and self.
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Jun 19, 2019
Jun 19, 2019 at 12:43 AM UTC
My Dakota
It smells just like her It smells just like the woman who taught my mother to raise me The woman who comforted me when it stormed The woman who taught me to appreciate my German heritage I miss her . . .
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Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 5:58 PM UTC
Nostalgia in Sephora
I go the land Of my ancestors The Himalayas To bet with my brethren And hope to find love And enlightenment As the prayer flags fly I smile.
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Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 6:08 PM UTC
Ancestors.