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IN THE HOUSE OF BLUES

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THE EDUCATION OF LADY BLUES JACKIE AMOS

Luv, Luv, Luv the REAL DEAL. That is your own personal swagga tito. They can get there own. Trully, L.

The Darkness rise above the sun light....

The cold waters above my feet....

The battle that will bring me closure....

The songs of my Ancestors....

The dark gets darker....

The soldiers walk upon the night....

to enslave my mind.....

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Never Satan you have no hold.....

I shall never give my mind to the devil.....

I walk with my own army.....

My legacy will never be spoken....

Hidden by the devil.....

Nevertheless, he try’s to prove....

He is greater than thee.....

Disposing my family tree.....

I have ordained my grounds.....

God walks through me.....

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I am the ancestor who returned;....

the devil never utters truth only defeat.....

My battle to be free....

they will continue to remind you....

you were their slave.....

Nevertheless, I was never a slave.....

However, they documented it, in my history.....

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A slave is submissive to his own pain.....

I am a soldier of the lord.....

I fear not man only the almighty God.....

I am the messenger of God.....

I shall never be defeated.....

I fight the battle for man.....

Who hated the color of my skin?....

I am only passing through.....

I am the token from God.....

As Jesus he returns.....

The flesh of all great men.....

Only the spoken words.....

God will be the battle, which I fight.....

Raise my children.....

Slavery is just a word.....

Never associate your self with this term....

A slave is already dead.....

The word is a curse, men uses it to....

Brand his prey.....

He will continue to use this word.....

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Keeping the meek in his place.....

The saints will continue to come ,....

until Gods missions are complete.....

A slave is a man who walks among the dead.....

He has no dignity and he gives it to man.....

Rise up my brothers and sister ,....

you were never a slave.....

You gave into a weakness.....

You were in a strange land.....

144.0000 will continue to come.....

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The devil has no win.....

The soldiers of God has come to war.....

Many great black men ,....

who refuse to be labeled as slave.....

The man with black face ,....

who sold his brother in to the devils hands.....

Nevertheless, Every thing in black face....

dose not represents the Blackman.....

The middleman will always come to destroy self ,....

when he has no cause.....

There were many who were not slaves.....

They went to the best Universities,....

Doctors, Lawyers, Teachers,....

Inventors this is just some.....

As now as then the great black men,....

will never be spoken of.....

This is to keep a man in his place.....

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Psychological lynching. Reverse slavery tactics,....

which is used. A reminder to men,....

they are less than a man.....

Who's inferior to whom,....

and the games continue to be played.....

Human evolution processes,....

jump in the womb and reconnect.....

Deny my self of a mind....

Deny my self of the universe....

Love used a battered....

Love hates difference....

I heard God call my battle is won.....

I picked up my Gun, I never ran,....

I was ready to blow my head off,....

I was ready to go home,....

Malcolm, Huey, Medgar, and faceless warriors....

The dead slave is a free....

A living slave is the living dead.....

There is no rehearsal, I am man,....

God never created slaves.....

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Only those who created this word ,....

for capitalistic gain.....

Cheap labor among great men.....

What God has created?....

No man will change.....

As the wings separate, and the mind generate....

And the heart continues to beat.....

Delete the program, which is a universal curse.....

Never close your eyes on the devil he never sleeps.....

Harriet Tub man the black women ,....

of the Universe. Don't cry for me,....

I was never a slave. I walked upon the zombies,....

who call me a slave. White,....

Black walked the fields with me.....

All that come in white mask is not my enemy.....

All that come in love an spirit,....

my blue eyes soul brother and sister.....

Satan comes in all flavors.....

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Nevertheless I was labeled a slave.....

The word slave was given,....

to my white brothers and sisters ,....

before I was brought in the ship.....

Many walk the land. Hatred under the name ,....

is the warrior of the future and the past.....

I am the messenger from God.....

Never again shall my people be treated as animals.....

They are the descendants of Kings and Queens.....

The humbleness of their hearts,....

allowed the devil to steal ,....

their inheritance from my God.....

I declare on this day.....

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I women will fight the battle for all men.....

I fear not man, but the battlefield I must walk,....

among the devils that come in white mask.....

I am a woman, but the inner spirit is man.....

Life of my Gods dreams.

To be an author of the present, and never speaking of the past, the mind cannot conceive the true meaning of historical aesthetics; the source of my instilment details, of the struggles just to stay alive, through indignation, betrayed into the dangerous character of an Author, I sought among the prosperity, to de program the destructions of a tube legations that toxins the mind, a free chose of birth, that constitute my liberty to speak, the army is not an army, when the warrior fights among each other, and the people suffer from the addictive addiction for power, what is revolution? When the windows are closed in, and there is no link, the miss conception of passage, Salvatore of righteousness; the loyalty died when the hero performed miracles; But yet I found the aesthetics; modern Philosophy participated of the refinement, inflicting pain of the dead shall not rise, only if the truth is not told, my pen speaks of the dignity beyond death, the hero's of inheritance shall not die, only if I choose to speak in darkness, without recovery of my dignity and those who walk with prophecies that was given by the Almighty God in heaven, but unto those who cultivate with their victorious arms of greed, I shall recite the constitution of justice, but unto my people who lived upon the abomination of man and earth which they defended with their blood; excluding the human God's who dictate the solitary of un spoken truth. Nevertheless the sensitivity of truth may contaminate the order that has been resolve to an un civilized institution of dead man bureaucracies, I have travel places where no man has gone, subsided by the human death chambers of mind, but yet I conceive my proclamation of educational success through the congestion that the roots shall rise below the porous of the dead roots. In this hierologic prescriptions of those who continue to archive the historical events, consistently to an assertion of the rights of man, and the rights of Nature and events,....

I give unto man the blue print of this divesting world, and man who close their eyes to the restitutions of change, yet on this first, and probably last occasion, in this resolution of aesthetics should I embark to see a cause like this rescued from the embroidery of my pen, if I exhort my reevaluations my pen shall become weak, in which I shall obtrude my Sentiments upon the world, I may be sensitize, if I inscribe a piece, whose only merit is the humanity and freedom of its historical lies, sentiments to darkness, shall only submerse the retro active completions of truth, I have principally on this journey under all odds of adjustment to derived them of biblical and historical facts. Beneath a milder sky let peace introduce the genius and arts and the libations of the ancestries, and the integrity without insuring their duration, to invoke passion and let philosophy and science glory in a race of illustrious disciples the prophets' seminary of spiritual grace.....

I'll hear the voices, the ancestors of yesterday, Virtue's legacy of tongues Shall sound against genocide of race, Unto I focus on humble, shall not my dignity be inherited as cowardly infirmity, I stand by the instructions of the Almighty God, and Jesus the son of the savior, I take my instructions, with great wisdom of the stroll, Let thy brother stand in accord, let not their supplier of death, shall the sons of Commerce, fear not the wrath, loyalty if not embraced, worse than the midnight Devil, Fear not the marksmen plan.....

Suffering through the darkness of UN Recovery, Libation I stand at attention, trying to understand, the darkness that lies upon the earth, Division stronger than the rivers that rise upon mans feet , The blood that runs from my veins, I shall take the lashing of the world, I shall not stand still, I shall run through the trill of fields, where my ancestors built the liberation, I shall run with the torch, sub servant to the lord, crying no victim song, no longer shall I stand still, summoned from the hill of justice the resurrection of change, until I spread the words of the Almighty God. my people to the mountain, when will we break the indoctrination of hatred disregarding all the laws of God, shall we get it right? I herd it on the mountain of recovery, one hand on the clock.....

The Universe slowly comes to and end. My native land that lives by the accordance of the devil, after the legacy of our ancestors, multi color rainbow, have we come to a calamity, where man no longer care? The treason that sits upon the doors of our ancestors; The doors slowly closing, silhouetted by Satan, The scars of my hand, whispering the history, thou wisdom, thou love, waves fair well. Thou slave of avarice, that can't stop the mind.....

The cancer of death, betrayal of a lost soul, trying to find self, The cage bird sings no victim song, He look upon the earth, He knows his space of sanctuary, And would not be captured by the beast, Dignity to man, if not kept safe, belligerency, shackles, deny my self of a mind, Ringing the chimes of inner death, Give me dignity are give me death, hatred of a memory, conformity, to another mans pledge. Hear the bellowing sounds rising up from the depths of humanity; Life is death, death is life, crying out to the soul of men words spoken, being placed in discord, words of peace. The soul of a poet, Life after death You shall embrace the words of ancient times, Through the universal space of mind .The peaceful place of integrity. Perhaps, you will hear the words, of calm, written from the poet within. The toxins of suffering, the sleeping darkness; the soul that rejects the formality of deterring ways.....

Love calms the inner peace; I shall live, as my words, spoken with love. Poet after death, my words continue to live on. Darkness has no power off my pen. I live within, the words of a poet, death shall not, stop the spoken words, Life is death, Death is life, Poet the prophet of spoken words.....

Spirits of thoughts, the birth of wisdom, Spirituality, understandings, Creations, life, death, love, cries of the earth, God that lives among, us all, the evolution of men, the man, the great tool of civilization, which he stands.

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In this dark and drowse have woven ourselves, the spirit that dwells with the soul of a poet, the psalms that was written by the creator, the proverbs that predicted the wisdom of Kings, with the very warp the dead has return, and the spirits of this nation, oh the laziness' of man, but my pen have and shall win this war, the laws of Satan shall not be kept, we fought their battles said the armor of the mighty, shared their sorrow, mingled our blood with theirs and become the walking zombies, and generation after generation have pleaded, but my mighty pen, shall not be convicted, my words come from the almighty God the creator, with a headstrong, careless people to despise not Justice, Mercy and Revolution, I the mighty pen have come from beneath the dark, I shall not sign a treaty with the devil, my words shall not be bought, I shall rise upon the darkness of man call, I shall stand before the armor of my pen, and stand before the world, and plead my cause, the lord said in a thunderous voice, no words shall form against you, speak look to the east, the armor of my trust, shall be the reinforcement of your rewards, the nation be no longer with a curse. Our song, our battle, our cheer, and warning have been given to this nation in the blood of our ancestors, but they have returned, close your mind, darken your heart, blasphemy shall not kill the root of my pen, blood brotherhood.

My pen have reached many mountains, my pen has been places where man dear to go, all the illusions that have retrieved the power of black man psalms, Day before yesterday morning, God was looking down from the pearly gates of heaven, his great, high heaven, Looking down on all his children, And the blood that cried tears from the sky, said Malcolm X Shabazz, I am you, and you are I, the poet has been summons, I shall live through your pen, Weep no more, then came Martin
Preaching the mighty scripts of the
Savior, Birmingham Alabama, Augusta Georgia,

Weep no more children
Weep no more, your journey is over.
Pass the torch sons of Jesus
Weep no more, let your pen speak
In the name of the savior,

Little Chilean, pray to the savior
And the white mask devils
Blew up the house of the savior
I hold my Chilean upon my bosom
Weep no more children weep no more.
Your history shall live through the mighty
Pen, and your pain shall be as a demeaned
that haunt the devil, he shall never rest.

Hanging on the roots of my labor
The tree of death, the spirit
Of calm, weep no more Chilean
Weep no more.

Nation Of Islam, Black Panthers, Heuy Newton,
Margus Garvey,
Rap Brown, Malcolm X, Jesus, Solomon
Medgar Evers, Silesia, Marcus Garvey, Sonny Carson,
Josephine Brown, Frederick Douglas,
Robert Hayden, Harriet Tubman,
Many faces of the cross,
Contee Cullen, Paul Laurence Dunbar,
Phillis Wheatley, Booker T. Washington

Weep no more Chilean weep no more
I whispered the message, before my Chilean
Entered the womb, weep no more
Chilean weeps no more.

Lord said death is life, the blood you
Shed is the tribute of life, sacrifice you give to thee,
I give to you, Weep no more my Chilean, you are free,
Weep no more Chilean, Weep no more.
God sat upon the heavens, and whispered in
Rosa Parks ear, he said daughter, I command you to sit in the rear,
no more back door, my daughter I am God alone,
Rosa sat humble, God said she spoke,
No more back doors, weep no more, Chilean,
Weep no more

Weep No More Chilean, Weep No More
Within the realms of a humble voice,
The integrity of enforcement
Shall lye within the power of wisdom,
And the man of the humble
Shall lead, a strong voice will touch
The heart of the young,
Who shall carry the torch of the future;
And darkness shall revert to light.

Noumi Collectives@2006

Blues on my mind, wrapped with black jazz,
within my desires, enhancements,
see the, illusions take on,
Marvin Gaye lets get it on,
Billy Holiday, my man don't love me,
sing Billy as, I undress, stepping in the visions,
of black jazz, covered with the blue eyes,
soul brother, get down, soars of great sounds.

Close my eyes, Cotton comes to Harlem,
here dizzy blow, entering my universe,
as the horns blow, climaxing the drums,
salty waters, fall upon my face,
Delicious visitations, conquered and drained,
blow on the misty moods of love.

Tapping my feet to the beat,
waters fall upon my knees,
I kneeled, taking on the visions,
that reflects the soul, of the beat,
Fixed in backgrounds, Mama want to sing,
Flashing lights upon my face, Sarah Von,
oh what dose it take, Embraced horns,
wrapped around my captivity of great space.
Play those blues, black jazz, soul blue eyes,
feeling my juice.

Noumi Collection @2005....

On The D Train


I hear de blues in my mind, tapping my feet trying to get to the A train one more time, play that moody blues, black boy , play it until the chow chow arrive. Don't sleep if you do your goods will become the rat that sniffs through the night, Finding my way to the Harlem light, standing at the edge of the plight, Bombarded by the underground lights. The grime stuck to my mind, it was no man's grime but death and human trans of discuss, the smell of ****, the cigar stick, to plunge it in the darken holes of the toxin birth cannel of rotten fish, the rubber band wore out as the black rivers turn to dust.





I stand tall as the monkey on my back; take me for a ride. The pimp man stands and watch the whores of the night, lying back as white powder release me my mind, and the sweat races to another level call world, and the music blasting, I think I went to hell, waiting to catch the A train on my way back, rats a running up the rail way track, trying to figure out who is the man and who is the rat.

Riding on the D train my visions Harlem,
and Hells of the crowded tunnels, dirty rivers, bridges clanking; The smell of dead life, hotels in the hole in the walls, whores on the stroll, sugar daddy play that song for me, razor-sharp artifacts passing into the past, dodge the bullet that just went off, the hooded regime bang bang, give me what you got. Dope man on the Conner of the darken walls, tunnel of darkness children of the night.


We're blessed said the grand reaper, sitting on the bench, with a joint in his hand, waiting for the next victim, to subside his death, divagation inner city guide by the white powder, hairy naked
accomplishment bodies forming, into cages of rages,


Growing into mad black
formability screaming in a straightjacket
That you're losing the game of the
Doctors of insanity,


I'm with you grand reaper where you must feel very strange
I'm with you grand reaper where you imitate the shade of my mother and stripped my father of his in heritage,
I'm with you grand reaper where you've murdered your visions of change and any hope of survival on the D train. I'm with you in the marks men pen, where you laugh at this invisible man, who do you serve grand reaper, smoking the ganja awaiting the next train.

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When I think about the poet and Author Jacqueline Amos, I often reflect on the times of Cotton Club Comes To Harlem with Lady Blues, Billy Holiday, the reflection sends a light of the times of the 1940's, the horns that plays from the direct spirit of Blues, and the sounds of the pass, which reverts through the mike of Lady Blues Jackie, this vibrant cry, take me to the cotton club brings the applauds from the audience, Jacqueline not only a literarily writer but a composer who gets down and dirty at times, singing the flows of which she refer to her ancestors, the cries from the mike, my mama done told me, I was a country girl, but I took a chance on the silver meter to release my pain, through this heroic symposium, of blues and poetic compositions she let the world feel the revolution of composition

I'se Country Girl deep from the south pick plenty of cotton and milked many cows, she goes into a trans as she sings, release my spirit look out; here comes the spirit that lives within, Billy holiday presents, she sings as the sweat surrounds the implementation of her brow, play those down home blues she cries at the keyboard, let me step out my form, and take on the presence of the ancestors who brought me to a new form of blues.

The southern blues is the style of lady blues; her dynamic style portrays Billy Holliday, Bessie Smith, Etta James, Earthier Kit," My man Doesn't Love Me" Billy Holiday, and many exceptional lady blues singers, her high light is differently original, with that misty forte of blues aesthetics " Many say she is the resurrection of the past. Lady blues Jackie compose on the rhythm of the bars of notes; the melody instantly forms a historic symphony of blues. Lady Blues portray the 40's in her conservatory of originals, feeling the soul that lives within her, her vocal style at times resemble Bessie Smith, and many masters of the blues. Lady Blues also creates a forum the back door blues.

Jacqueline mentor's were Billy Holiday, Bessie Smith, Lenis Guess, B.B King, many celebrities of blues, Jacqueline states I lived around the components of blues, simplified through the history of my family genes, I take on a new preservation of modern blues and jazz, with a touch of honey that sticks to my ribs, the legends that lives through me, The symposium preceded a performance of blues related to the compositions of her poetry, the pain of pleasure one might say sadistic in the format of relevance, the association of pain and pleasure, Lady Blues Jackie have been performing since the age of 19 relating to the stories of her family tree, I think she is genuinely please to release the sounds that are instill through birth, Jacqueline speaks of her auntie Louise Corley, she perform in the clubs of Harlem, which she has now passed on, she speaks of the time when she watched her auntie perform for her family, hoping that one day she could do the same, her father a southern a lover of music as well as her mother, it runs through the genes, as well as her sister, but the voices of originality presents the blues as she was back in the 1940's as well as her poetic compositions, the rebirth of Harriet Tubman as wells Langston Hughes,

Mama Sings the Blues A Night in Harlem Black gals with the greasy curl; High top shoes, black man, with The platted suits, gold cuffs With shinning puffs, Black gal's With Flower in the hair, Black man, culture vise; Black power pride, sweet Black jazz, with the taste Of Louie Armstrong;

Black man with the swinging Watch, laid out With the conquer lean hair; Flashing lights, cigarettes that Linger in the air, Playing that black jazz Feathers in the derby hats;

Cotton club comes to Harlem; Play that black jazz Billie holiday sings My man don't love me Any more, as the horns Play, singing mama he Don't feel my pain. Bill Robinson smiling, Blues dancing, Josephine, royal, Black girl flowing with her dance, Big bosom black gal, as she sings the down home blues.

Black gals dancing The camels walk with fingers pointing in the air; Charleston let mama sing; The black girls throw their legs In the air; playing that blues Come on down with the Mix, mama done song that Black jazz, sweet incenses; lets Get it own down here. Sweet smells of Harlem Through The Back Door Aren't al dat, boys on the band stand; boy play that horn, waiting for de'nit to come, down with black boy blues, playing for the white folks, back door to the stage front, jazz my mind as I take a blow, white powder enhance my flow,, high top pants, striped jacket, collar turned up so, greasy hair, conquer lean, white folks , white table cloths, playing in the house, where the white folks go. Play that jazz, play that jazz, play the blues, on de' keyboard.