You know the thing about whooping dead horses
Is that they come back to haunt your ass in ghost mode
Only to become the thing administering the whooping
Now she gats the ghost of a dead horse whooping the melanin off her ass
Shit – she used to say all she can do is stay black and die
Well a bitch is running out of options for her existence

That’s just a bit macabre don’t you think dear
Dead horses and what not – I take it the dead horse is
A metaphor for something that is whooping you at the moment

Hardliner sighs through pursed lips as Ms. Rennah makes an appearance
Decked in her flowing amber robes
With that mischievous – yet mirthful twinkle lighting up her eyes

Not today Ms. Rennah

Tell me your story Griot
The Earth Mother adds with that intuitive smile
That sets Hardliner’s stomach ablaze with – she stops for a moment
Trying for the life of her to figure out what
Cause sista – just lost her train of thought
Either menopause rolled up on her like the low-down
Dirty thief of thought that she is
Or that Hardliner does not truly know what she feels about
Ms. Rennah ferreting out the identity of her dead horse
Righteous indignation maybe can suffice but if she’s honest
It more looks like Ms. Petty has come out to play
And Hardliner is in her Queen era – if there is one thing

She don’t abide is pettiness in a queen

No the thing with you chile is that you deflect
Serious introspection while you breastfeed procrastination
With maternal affection

Owww – that’s gangster!
The red hawt energy coming her way lets her know
That Ms. Almah is in the house
Hardliner’s rolling hills are laying on the funky soul of Jill Scott
And like the Grande Dame Queen Beast she be
Sista is belting out her song about going out there and being great

…”The embodiment of soul glow, I admit
Paint my own pictures, gifts on gifts on gifts
Let the load lift, let the words shift
I ain’t here to live in fear or just plain ol’ exist
I’ma go head and be great, why not?
I’ma go head and be great, why not?”

Shit!

Exorcise that dead horse baby gurl – Almah is purposeful
Ms. Menopause aint gats nothing on
Procrastination when it comes to thievery
Ms. Procrastination steals your time – rendering your
Gifts null and void – baby you are worth more than that

Hardliner is snatched by emotion
So much emotion she can’t identify
She is tired of her damn self – putting her plan off
Because she is scared of her greatness
She is scared all that divadom being illumined on centre stage
People gon see her now

Shit!

She is procrastinating jumping from her cheap sized fish bowl
Into freaking ugly ass dark green waters
And here go Ms. Scott sanging –
“Born to soar, born to be more
Let them keep score if they need to
I’ma go head and be great, why not?
Ooh, this road be high and low
Write honestly as I go”

And here go Hardliner feeling this beast of a jam in her core

Cause she is sanging your life right now chile
Rennah approaches sista gurl golden robes swirl around her
Like they gats life running through them
Tell me your story Griot – she asks Hardliner again
No procrastination – no thoughts of if I can’t create anymore
Use the gift the Good Lord gave you

Look – she aint written a good poem in a minute
Ladies – I am empty – poetry has pulled a nigga run on me

Little gurl –

Now it is more like the hawt gust of air flowing from the Earth mother
Rather than the no nonsense tone in that little gurl
That takes Hardliner to her knees
Even before Ms. Almah can deliver her sermon
Pull the Gangster out of your sitting pretty Queen
And handle your business
You gats Ms. Petty and Ms. Procrastination running buck wild in your grasslands
You are a Griot baby – you cant play the Kora to save your life
But you are a Griot – God ordained – God gifted
Unburden the word baby – exorcise that poor horse’s ghost

Hardliner is caught in a vicious cycle of self-doubt in a gift that has on many
Occasions saved her life
She gats so much to say but a bitch is blocked – her flow is choked on high expectations
When did poetry become so heavy
She rubs circles on her chest to abate the heaviness she feel

Unburden the word chile
Ms. Rennah tucks her finger under Hardliner’s chin
Her stare gentle but direct – you gats too much weight on it
High expectations are heavy – especially those reeking of perfectionism
She artfully wriggles her nose – pimping that Bewitched’s Samantha
Why isn’t it enough that your gift is interwoven into the fabric of who you be
Stop fighting it – just let it flow baby

Hardliner has told herself that on many an occasion but –

You gats that extension cord in your hand – Ms. Almah heads
Her woe is me off immediately with that wise crack
Poetry has not deserted you boo
You don’t have to find profound – it finds you
You don’t have to find rhythm and flow – it finds you
You don’t have to be perfect – God gats you
You go on and be great despite feeling blocked – unsure and scared

Almah’s fyah has ignited the spark of belief in that place beyond Hardliner’s gut
Which intensifies as Ms. Jill holds court in sista’s rolling hills
“See, what I’m about to do
Is I’ma walk into this room and I’m gonna let them see
God, Jehovah’s will, all over me
And there ain’t nothing they can do about it, baby”

Come on now chile – show me what you got
Almah offers something close to a smile
Tell your story Griot – be who you are meant to be
Do it through your fear of opening up to a world
That will see you vulnerable – yet authentic
Cut the milk works from Ms. Procrastination’s lips
And look the fear of showing up full in the face
I challenge you Boo – I am throwing down the gauntlet
Because the ganster in me sees the ganster in your Queen
Gut out this victory
You want some serious coin in your bag Boo – do something about it
Tell your stories – sang your victories
Show the world you are that more you were always looking for
Gawd damn chile – I see you plain as the sun in the sky
Do you see your luminescence looking back at you
And just like that ball of fire in the sky
This kind of luminescence is only nurtured and heralded by The Creator

Hardliner cringes sheepishly

Yeh – get your prayer life tight Chile
I aint even gon remind you about your self-discipline issue

OK Ms. Almah – I know

Then move beyond knowing to doing baby
The fire breathing-tornado wielding-earth rocking –
Mother guide struts purpose and power in her stride
Her eyes seemingly back it with dancing flames
Command Hardliner’s attention – Come on chile
Tell me your story and it don’t gats to be perfect and pretty
Speak about what matters to you – and you will find
Poetry never left you but lay exactly where you dropped it
Waiting for you to pick it up again
Tell me your stories Griot
The good – the bad and the ugly in the only way you can
Because gurl you gats a smart mouth – loud in all its glory
And it always gats something to say

You know what – sista is feeling herself now
And humble enough to know that she aint shit
Meaning that she aint nothing without God
Cause he gave her poetry – her loudmouth
Her sass and all dem tings she gats to say
She aint nothing but a vessel through which the Creator operates
But first she has to unburden the word to let it live within her
So she gon take Almah’s sweet and sour compliment
As she huddles close to poetry like her One and only
Feeling that sweet hunger to write again
Feeling that something something she cant describe
Yet being comforted by it –
As Jill funktifies dem Rolling Hills
The Leo energy of her five-year old inner child – Sweet Chile
Comes through like a breath of fresh air
And Sista aint felt Sweet Chile that that in a while
Well at least without the need to bolt towards the opposite direction
Another story – for another day

Why not today chile – Rennah asks while that little
Mischievous twinkle incites a wry smile from Hardliner

Ok then – I am Griot and let me tell you a story