The Funk, by Nikki Junker

What is The Funk? The Funk is real... If you don't know who Brother Cornel West is you need to google him and figure it out because he will change your life. I learned about The Funk from him... How does he describe The Funk? Brother West talks about The Funk as real life, from "the womb to the tomb" he says... to paraphrase him he speaks that we are born in the funk (the womb) and we return to the funk (the tomb) but spend our entire lives trying to get away from the funk...and ain't that the truth? We spend our entire lives trying to avoid real life... we look away from the horrors of the world, pretend they don't exist, buy perfume so we don't smell the funk of our bodies, straighten our teeth so they are aesthetically pleasing, keep our children from seeing the homeless, hush conversations about addiction and use words such as passed away rather than died.... "they" say this is part of being human..civilization if you will and yes protection from the elements is important for health, life and happiness, but have we gone too far? It feels like nothing is real anymore.... and people cannot handle The Funk.... We need to get back to The Funk... real life...REAL LIFE... R E A L L I F E ... I want to take every adolescent whose eyes are glazed over watching My Super Sweet Sixteen and take them to the streets of Harlem.... Hell.. the streets of South East San Diego and show them this is not real life... real life is eating breathing sleeping surviving and loving...we must not forget the loving.... loving is living but I don't think anyone can truly know what it is to live or to love without experiencing the reality that is The Funk.... What really separates you from the man on the corner who has no home, no teeth and is dying for enough money to catch his next fix? How long would it take to change all of those things? Can you appreciate the fact that you have not been there without knowing just where it is that he is? I am not even sure this makes sense....and I know it takes people a lot of time being with me day in and day out to understand what I feel The Funk is, but wow...it is powerful and I am so thankful to Love for showing me. You have experienced The Funk and it made you alive... it keeps you surviving...it is like a deeper understanding of "when S**t hits the fan".... puking when you hear the words "Your Father is Dead" isThe Funk.... having an area to pee and a separate one to eat in a 3rd world country is The Funk.... Slicing down instead of across is The Funk... Dancing like no one is watching is The Funk... Realizing you do not have food to eat to feed your child or any way to obtain it is The Funk...War is the Funk.... The sun on your skin is The Funk.... Watching your lover stick a needle in their arm because they are powerless over addiction is The Funk... Sex is The Funk.... Changing your Grandmother's diapers is The Funk.... Drum rhythm is The Funk..... Birthing a child is The Funk...The Holocaust is The Funk... is it pain? is it beauty? is it good? is it evil? no...it is none of these things and all of these things...IT IS THE FUNK.....

Copyright 2010 Nikki Junker

** This is such a great read by an amazing young lady, Nikki Junker. She works (like myself!) as a Modern Day Abolitionist in the fight against sex trafficking. So, be sure to check her out. Please see the following:


Nikki's organization's website at: www.morethanpurpose.org


Nikki's Blog at: http://morethanpurpose.blogspot.com/


Nikki's  twitter at: http://twitter.com/morethanpurpose 

something

something about cool crisp mornings

awakened sun, owning the sky

something about the dawn's newness

stimulates fingertip's imagination, senses

half sleep, half wake

something about cool crisp mornings

dancing, swirling

air, breathe

something about freshness comes to mind

something about you

(Poetry inspired by my friend, Sidney Coulter)

Picture from www.thebrooklynnomad.com by Andrew Hickey

Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the book "Nothing Cool About Ten")

copy kat

wus wonderin if you finding

your own stride

or you still tryin ta co-opt mine?

you know why you

always runnin out of breath?

cus u never suckin in ur own breeze

alwayz reachin for

somebodie elses wind

and it keep tippin back to its owner

rightfully so

but time gon come round

tomorrow though.

for you especially.

gon bring you an

hour and a half of courage

for a start

so g'wan now

rite writely

bes bold

cus its a beat
out there
slumbering
in need
of your stroke

scribe on

(Ack! It just really annoys me when someone deliberately copies my writing style. Seriously, shouldn't folks at least say "Hey, such and such has been a help to me in terms of my writing." For goodness sake! it is such a precious space for me...and it feels like a violation. It also saddens me because creativity is such a God given gift and we should all work to develop what has been placed inside our own unique spirit. There is a reason why it is there!  Well, you can try to wear someone elses coat...but it will never fit or fly. Just the way it tis. Cus what is meant for you? Its for you to birth. Gotta come through your own womb.  So, don't be afraid of your own true giftings! There is beauty in the uniqueness of that!)

Copyright Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the book "Nothing Cool About Ten")

Ithaka, by Constantine P. Cavafy

As you set out for Ithaka

hope your road is a long one,

full of adventure, full of discovery.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

angry Poseidon-don't be afraid of them:

you'll never find the things like that on your way

as long as you keep thoughts raised high,

as long as a rare excitement

stirs your spirit and your body.

Laistrygonians, Cyclops,

wild Poseidon-you won't encounter them

unless you bring them along inside your soul,

unless your soul sets them up in front of you.

Hope your road is a long one.

May there be many summer mornings when,

with what pleasure, what joy,

you enter harbors you're seeing for the first time;

may you stop at Phoenician trading stations

to buy fine things,

mother of pearl and coral, amber and ebony.

sensual perfume of every kind-

as many sensual perfumes as you can;

and may you visit many Egyptian cities

to learn and go on learning from their scholars.

Keep Ithaka always in your mind.

Arriving there is what you're destined for.

But don't hurry the journey at all.

Better if it lasts for years,

so you're old by the time you reach the island,

wealthy with all you've gained on the way,

not expecting Ithaka to make you rich.

Ithaka gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

And if you find her poor, Ithaka won't have fooled you.

Wise as you will have become, so full of experience,

you'll have understood by then what these Ithakas mean.

*This is one of my favorite poems of all times. I love the lessons that Cavafy renders in the beautiful text. I hope that your life knows wisdom. In full measure.*

on stage

he danced

and i rested

in awe of the simplicity

of his movements

peaceful in the wash of his taps

i reached for his right hand

And he stenciled my heart

into his palm

twirling me into the

place where freedom

runs forever

he taught me

the possibilities from the spoken end

to the

certain beginning

and all

because my desire

lite a candle

honoring

the surrender

of yes

Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (from the book "Nothing Cool About Ten")

I am (A Conversation): Poetry Excerpt

"He has been beautifully healing my heart,

my spirit, my soul

through grace and unfailing mercy

i am changed by love

and I am taking back my vision

watch me scale the heights see me sit upon the mountain top

cus it is time for me to soar

into my God given dream"

Excerpt from the poem,  I am: A Conversation, Copyright 2008 All Rights Reserved (From the poetry book Nonnie And The Butterfly)

God’s Playin’ Games with My Heart, Again....

I keep losin’.

It was 1am and I was restless.

So, I asked God if He wanted to play cards.

“Sure,” He said.

“But we are going to play with My deck.”

“Your deck, it is then!,” I responded.

We played 21.

He had me beat on the first go ’round.

“I won,” He stated plainly.

He looked at me. I looked at Him.

We both looked down at His winning hand.

There was something in His eyes.

“What is it God?,” I asked.

“21!,” He cried out!

“Hand over a piece of your heart.”

No longer one to quibble with God,

I gave it to Him.

Next, He wanted to roll the dice.

“My dice,” He said. “You go first.”

I rolled a two and a three.

He rolled 2 sevens.

2 sevens?? “God, how is that possible?,” I asked.

“Through Me all things are possible.”

“Of course!,” I chuckled.

“Hand over another piece,” He said gently.

“Gladly, God!,” was my reply.

Then, I said “Let’s play Monopoly!.”

“Ah yes, Monopoly! Now there's a game!,”

He laughed.

I sat back, a bit anxious, excited even.

God seemed particularly calm and cool.

“Ha! He thinks He’s gonna win…again!,”

I thought to myself. Well, alas, He ended up with everything

that I owned and all of my money.

This time He didn’t have to ask….

I handed to Him another piece of my

now rapidly disappearing heart.

I must admit, at this point I was gettin’ a bit weary.

These games were taking forever!

And they were never as easy as I thought

they were going to be. Somewhere at the halfway point, well,

there always seemed to be a “twist.”

I said, “God, are you tired yet?.”

He looked me dead square in the eyes and responded,

“No. And you aren’t either. You have my strength.

Break out the Backgammon Board!!.”

So, I did.

“Now, this is really my game!,” I smiled to myself.

Analytical. Complicated.

I was energized!

An hour later, my pieces were positioned

nicely on the board.

I was winning!

Well, there was one teensy weensy problem.

It was God's turn to throw the dice.

And one of my pieces remained

on God's side!

Would He knock my piece out with one throw?

Could He? (Silly question, I would surely realize later in life.)

I held my breath.

“Well, what could I do?,” I pondered.

Absolutely nothing. The dice were in Gods hands.

Amazing! He landed on my last piece!

“How does He do that?,” I said, out loud and to no one in particular.

“Simple,” I thought to myself.

“His hand never fails!”

How extraordinarily simple.

It is the only way with Him.

“Well, God,” I said, “Here’s another piece.”

I looked down at my heart’s resting place.

It was then that I realized that I had just given Him the last lil’ bit.

I thought that I saw Him smile.

I am sure of it.

He looked through my eyes and asked, “Are you worried?

Your heart is mine now, you know..”

“I know. And, no God, I’m not worried. You won fair and square. I

would

be happy for you to keep it forever,” I said. “Okay,” He said. “Time

to rest. I will wake you in the morning.

You have a big day ahead of you.”

“Really? What’s going to happen tomorrow, God?,” I asked.

He responded, “You will see. Just be content for now.

I have it all under control. It’s in my hands.”

So was my heart.

I slept peacefully.

amen

 

*please be so kind as to read this as a metaphor. gosh, i've had a guts full of the "God doesn't play dice comments!" it. is. a. metaphor.  to me this poem is about pride, its about wisdom, faith, humility, its about our search for God, trying to get to know Him the best way we know how. and then He steps in to help! in His way. His timing. its about God's love and patience.  and how He overrules, gently and one piece at a time, the crap in our own hearts. for the good of the individuals, for others. commune. with the God of your destiny!*

 

Copyright 2008 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (from the poetry book Nonnie And the Butterfly)

yesterday

there was a time

yesterday

when i thought that

the joy of an embrace

would melt my soul

i hungered for a glance that would

see the beauty of my eyes, my lips

i dreamed of the day

yesterday

when i could wake and

gently kiss the

eyelids of my lover

walking my fingers across

his soul

brushing the curve of his back

with my spirit

this morning

today

my heart yearns to see the

face of the

divine Father

His pure presence

the simplicity of His love

leaving me awash in

unfathomable delight

here, now

today

my soul wishes to know

the beauty of my Master

to free fall into His spirit, wrapped in His arms,

safely nestled under His wing

fully aware that He is

incapable of not loving me

yesterday, today, tomorrow

i belong to Him

amen

 

*i wrote this poem such a long time ago now...2004....and then included it in my first poetry book in 2008!  i still love this poem. it keeps me focused on what is necessary, what is true, what is right. love. true love, its necessary*

 

Copyright 2008 Regina Y. evans All Rights Reserved (from the poetry book Nonnie And The Butterfly)

the garden life

i was listening to a sermon by td jakes. for some christian folks they will know him as a prominent preacher. well, i don't exactly go to church..much. pretty much never anymore. so i kinda know him as the "youtube" preacher! he has some really great sermons. anyway, i was listening to this sermon the other day and he said this "there are those of you who have grown to despise your own heart." and as those word floated out of his mouth they pinged me in my spirit. hard.......

.....he said that those with a huge capacity to love often feel weak..because they get knocked over, abused, betrayed etc, etc. i know all of these things...as do many of us. i have wanted to be a warrior kinda chick. but in truth i am not. i am not the "imma pray against you" type of chick. I am more the "im gonna pray for you and help you even though you tried to screw my life up" kinda chick. and truth be told...that is a painful posture. however.......

.......when i heard those words...it just felt so great. so i have decided to stop despising my heart of love and to stop wishing for a warrior chicks heart. i don't have it. i have really tried. ive been extremely angry that i dont have that kinda heart, in fact! however, as i ponder...wow...am i glad that i am not burdened with such a thing. hearts like that can be prime territory for pride. ive seen it. up close and personal. a terrible beast it can be. even seems like strength. but doesn't Christ say "my power is made perfect in your weakness?" so, hey, i reckon that He, Christ, is on to something and i rather flow in that river. 

 

....so in my attempt to not wanna entertain a beast in my spirit...i've decided to LOVE my heart of love. to delve into it more. see what this thing in me is all about. i reckon the best place to do so is in a beautiful garden.

stay true. to you.

everything thing gon be alright.

the heart should always remember to laugh and smile. it is what it is. love.

LOVE

A Friend Named Trust

this morning as the sun tickled my spirit awake

it dawned on me that i had never thanked it for its divine power

its rays never fail to embrace my face with a calming warmth

incapable of forsaking my smile

each moment my soul trusts

in its illuminating beauty

at the noon hour as i passed by a fragrant field of flowers

i realized that i had never bowed down to its glory

its loveliness never ceasing to delight

unable to not bless my desiring eye

every minute my heart trusts

in the love of its

embracing aroma

as darkness falls the faithful moon will remind the sky of pure beauty

teaching the stars lessons of wisdom and strength

they will learn that God’s lunar expects nothing

seeking only to give the gift of light, of life

in appreciation,

i will lift my hands in praise

honoring the free flowing love

which has set my being upon the heights

i will hold my friend named Trust gently as He leaves

a trail of grace and faith upon my heart

forever kissing Him in gratitude

amen

Copyright 2008 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (from the poetry book Nonnie And The Butterfly)

You Know

dear Lord

where have my eyes been

where has my spirit rested

how could I have denied myself

the delight of loving you

i have no words

but, yet you know

i wake in the day’s dawn

loving you

completely

sending kisses

towards the heavens

as my lids shut

to the night’s darkness

boldly in love

yes

you know

dear Lord

do you hear the love

in my heart

can you see the desire

in my eyes

are you sensing the delight

in my soul

i ask you

do you know

you know

is my love

for you definable

please understand

i ache to know you

to see the beauty of your grace

do you know

dear Father

you know

the love of my heart

is profoundly

beyond thought surpassing comprehension

it is the peace of

resting in your

gentle wing

the sweetness of your

warm embrace

do you feel the depths

of my love

for you

i can give you

nothing

in comparison to the

love, joy, mercy

that has been placed in my

being

yet

you love me so

how wonderful

because

you know

you know

Copyright 2008 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the published book Nonnie And The Butterfly)

Free Fallin'

sometimes

evry once in a moonshine blue

the soul tingles a

"man dis here s'alright. it s'alright now chile"

sing it! smile me tenderly. joy!

me, my babies

unusual birth rebirth

theys here now. ain't that cool?!

wrapped in the wondrous

how i got over

and let me tell ya'll

wasnt nuthin easy bout it,

getting here

to the afterbirth zone

listen to me tell,

i had ta fight mightily,

struggle for des here lil ones

(and fo me too)

deys mine, i der momma for sure

eye's born, theys born too

at a great price

ain't no falseness in that spin

didn't hardly
no body wanna know,

or unerstand

but you,
 (and a few)
Lawd

thank you kindly, Sir.

wHooo weeE,

here me when i say,

me and mine, progeny

scratched, clawed, softly

up from the earth's core

eyes leaking salt,
hurt but steady

 the whole way,

and that's a long yard while

i remember!

we's all hanged on ta my back

fer da ride, wudn't let go,

wrapped up inside my womb

and back again

worked as one, me and my mine

had to.

wanted desperately to see,

breathe the light of freely

ran, ran, and some mo'

kep it up

like pace arrows

on some 24 days

we moved so fast that

we beat the devil running!

now we keep breezin

on unexplainable peace
yes. thank ya. Jesus man

yous s'alright.

i watch, i'm watching
 my babies
float on my fingertips,

they scribbling out a

new taste
necessary

the triple unbroken circle
smiled

me too

culdn't help it

cus Lawd, i's wild

and freely

free fallin

Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the published book "Nothing Cool about Ten" by Regina Y. Evans. Available http://www.smashwords.com/)

BoooOwwww

if you are building your life, ministry, organization, country, family, etc without a great and deep abiding love for those actually in your sphere...what, in fact, have you gained? anything at all? something of truth? think. think. can you reach for love and, at the same time, erase another's heart? there was once a song. some hated it. some thought of it "Wow!"  i remember it well. went something like this : "ice ice baby, too cold, too cold." Brrrrrrrr.

Pride. it is a dream stealer. and if you are ever faced with it head on? keep walking in love, stay humble (though it may hurt), hold fast to your dreams, do what cha gotta do. Basically this: LIVE, LOVE, LAUGH.

Smile. Don't forget to smile.

peace

"The Man In The Arena" by Teddy Roosevelt (Quote)

Note: It is so easy to look at someone on their path and throw the darts of criticism at their head, back, sides, etc. But what I admire is someone who "gets in the game". "Win" or "Lose". Because either way? Wisdom has whispered in that person's ear.

Have a read of the quote below. It so spoke to my heart. And a hearty "Here! Here!" to all the folks out there who dare to STEP. -peace

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." Teddy Roosevelt, "The Man in the Arena"

a writing

There has been so much death to my life. Too much to comprehend. Loss knocks around within the walls of my heart leaving a searing emptiness to My Me. Shaken to my core by posers who mockingly toss the word "friend" upon my face. My pain grimaces as it slips, slides and tumbles down the terrain of my being. Leaving scars and slices of intimidation. The end of its journey sees it languishing upon the earth. Forming a laughing pattern of betrayal. Pilfering my everything into a state of insecurity and barrenness.


Indeed I had arrived at Ms. Ithaka and found her poor. But Cavafy* was correct. She had no intention of fooling my soul. You see, Wisdom is Ms. Ithaka's rightful name, and she remains my greatest teacher.

She blew pearls into my eyes until I acknowledged the scintillating shadow cast by my lack. I watched its dark glimmer dance beautifully in delightful irony. Holding court with previously buried secrets now twirling in the balm of restoration. I squinted closely, beholding the beginning outline of a smile. Here, I paused for thought. I watched as the sky travailed out a beam called perception. The veil ripped gently downside the middle revealing the precipice of a simple truth: I wildly exist. And powerfully so.

See my poetic:

she cannot forget

her beautifully rich nature, placed in her

by the divine kiss of love

painting her ethos and culture

upon the traverse of the world's

open field. her true destiny

all notions of freedom

emblazoned and ingrained

upon her hands.

the blood of her heart

writing out its roadmap

of breaking forth for

the generations yet to come

yes, she remembers

she will always remember

and every mountain will be leveled

for she, the weary

and the rugged places made plain

for her, the weak

the recompense of justice

Copyright 2010 All Rights reserved. From the published book: "Nothing Cool About Ten" by Regina Y. Evans

*For reference to the poem Ithaka, by Cavafy go to this link to read it in its entirety: http://homepage.newschool.edu/~wrightd/cavafy-ithaka.html

shush child

leaning into quiet

the necessary spot of create

space to be for a chime

intergrity of spirit

finds its cool

in just being

without a shout

peace

Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the Poetry Book: Nothing Cool About Ten)

clawin'

yesterday i was watchin

some what looked like crabs

seemed  like they was dancing

but i saw steam float

and decided against that notion

they was sure nuff angry

bout something

dont even think they knew

stepping on the tother's ones back

tryin ta jump up

a half inch at a tock

and down again

seemed so strange

i didnt understand

dont think i ever will

dont want to

i rather be looking

at da sun

peace

Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans All Rights Reserved (From the poetry book "Nothing Cool About Ten")

Re-Lyt

He ribboned

the hues of His heart

into the hope of your promise

blew into your fingers

the techniques of compassion

covering your very being

with the strength to stand

and then one day

He determined, called

you to traverse upon the

ladder placed upon the earth's

vertical wall

your toes responded

the waters drew back

drying their tears

as you tipped into

their rocky river bed of

dangerous faith

your each step reverberating out

the cries of perserverance

dotting the blazing horizon

with the covenant of life

the open seal of the graceful

blue above sponging your crown

the fascination of rebirth

the strength to walk long

the journey of a precipice

birthed during the climb

create

Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans, All Rights Reserved, from the published book "Nothing Cool About Ten" by Regina Y. Evans

listen

the wisp and glimmer

of existence

stands under an open door

she raises her face to receive the

reign of kisses that birth

an utterly new day

focus, tossed up

left behind, tossed out

necessary gaze


____________________




Copyright 2010 Regina Y. Evans
All Rights Reserved
(From the poetry book: "Nothing Cool About Ten")

pouring your own cuppa tea

i have decided that one of my pet peeve's is someone who is too afraid to get out there, tell their own story, create with the giftings that has been given to them. instead they latch onto "other than" them/their. they begin to co-opt the "other than" so much so that they begin to see it as one. all the while passing up the beauty that remains in them/he/she. it sleeps. dormant. with a thick coat of dust. waiting to see the warmth and light of day.

there is no power or courage in that. pour your own cup of tea. the change for many rest within that realm.

life offers many mountains to climb. and many of those peaks rests within the beauty of the stories visited by the individual self.

ya feel me?

own your own.

do and be YOU.

one thumbprint. one sound. joins into the heart of many.

well, that is my rant for the day. DO YOU. because there is beauty there. always

peace