DEE MORRISON
 

Every word deep and heartfelt…

 
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Ancestry

Different shades
Different ways
Unbecoming
Unknowing
What shade are you?
Red, white or blue?
Don’t disgrace me 
Don’t misplace me
Don’t wrongly accuse
Abuse
It ain’t my fault
I was born this way
A long lineage
A long history
Hidden parts, past
Come to light
It’s in the way I talk
De riddem in the way I walk
They way I look
The kinks and coils and nappy twists
I am all a dat
The rituals and ancient traditions
The roots, rock , and reggae 
See, I AM all a dat
The wisdom,
The mastery
The cultivation of the land
The brick red soil
The lush green lands
The blood shed
Whips and chains
To revolt was, is
Our badge of honour
And all that
Ancestry
Is Me
I IS ALL DAT.

Deirdre Morrison
3rd January 2019

An Ode to Detroit

An ode to Detroit (the movie). For my brothers in distress.

Who gave you the keys to my life
50 years on and the chains still rattle
The blood still flows from my broken skin
The blood still boils in my veins

Who gave you permission to say whether I am a free man, when, where and how
You look in my face, you look in my eyes and you hate on me

Abuse of that weapon you call authority
Unclean hands and unclean lips that spit vile 
Your white mother f. ...king lies against the coolness of my dark skin

You call me aggressive but YOU are the aggressor.
The knife in my side , the gun at my head the fist in my gut 
You snigger,  you walk with the swagger of - 'you can't touch this’ 

My brothers lay beaten, battered and bruised,  bereft of their dignity
Stripped of their manhood , humiliated
And you call them beasts
...so who is You? 

You hide behind the crown given you at birth the insipid glory of the white skin.
The ticket that says the world is your oyster the card that says you can walk free
Not guilty

All eyes on you , all eyes on me

Whereas my plight is the voice of injustice time and time again that says you my friend , you my brother is guilty yet again 
That is your portion,  that is your fate,
that is your destiny 

You are in no man's land because you are no body 
In the white mans land you are not seen, he don't recoginise you are a king,  he don’t wanna see that you are a brother, a father, a scholar ,an army officer defending the land,  an academic, a law abiding citizen an innocent boy, the son of a weeping mother.
An equal.

The eyes of the perpetrator only sees that we are the wretched of the earth, thinks I am displaced and don't belong
It's the nigger haters against the nigger lovers but they 'll just tell you they're only doing their job
All in the line of duty, in the name of self defence
Whilst families and communities lay  traumatised,  50 years on and still looking over our shoulders . 50 years on and no change.

So I ask you 
What is the price of freedom?
Sky high . A rocket to the moon
Free to do as I please as long as I please you
Let freedom ring - the ring of the shot gun
The ringing in my ears tiĺl the blood runs once more
Beaten and pinned to the ground.

And I hear the sound

Slavery days still echo in the streets of today,  etched in the dust our ancestors walked
You want me to dance to your tune 
Clap my hands and stomp my feet
And entertain you
See how the masters eyes light up with glee

The whip across my back is your police gun,
The State and District baton that pumps the blows. .one  two three 
Amulets of protection used not to protect me  but only to brutalise me

You won't relent in keeping us down
Keeping us in our place
Stealing our rights
gagging us
But we won't keep silent and we won't stop fighting. Our collective voices will be heard.
We will rise
And rise higher still

 
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Shine through

You shine through the darkest of days where my eyes are blinded by my circumstances
With the burden upon my back to the point of breaking you shine your light of hope, you tell me I can go on and you lighten my load
When death succumbs me in my hour of weakness and frailty and tries to overpower me I cry out to be saved and your light that swallows up the darkness delivers me
Impossibilities become possibilities, lies are replaced with truth my knees are strengthened and I can now stand, these dry bones are now a mighty army
Shine through
The corner stone that causes men to stumble who hate the sight of righteousness, but it's an anchor , a mighty stronghold to those who love your name
Consumed by an overarching power, a love that breaks the heavy yolk of sin leaves me rendered, totally abandoned to your will and to your way
I am broken only to be anointed with the oil of your gladness that heals and restores me, shattered to pieces by the hammer of your grace to be rebuilt into a vessel of honour and worthiness
Shine through the the diseases of the soul that seek to attack and dismember but of course fail, too great are you for them to succeed.
Holding back the wrath of my enemies seeking to scoff and devour. They tremble and quake for the fire in your eyes is ablaze with holiness erupting like molten wax
A Voice that thunders, the sound of many waters that demands a reverence like no other, shine through and blind my eyes that I may actually see, no longer confounded, no longer the wretched of the earth from whence I came
Shine your glory that all may see, shine through, shine it through me.

2016

 

Home

Home is where the heart is 

A place of vibrant memories

Of times long gone.

Childhood, family, Sunday dinners

Christmas, birthdays, hot cups of Milo , that Dad called 'chocolate tea'


Home is where the heart is

But where do l belong?

Split between two cultures.....and some

Being Black and British

An Afro Carib-B-an! 


Home is where the heart is

The Black , the Red, White and Blue

Reggae, Ska, Country, Soul, rhythm and blues

Loving and in love with London city

Two sides of the coin, it's beauty and the nitty gritty


Home is where the heart is

School dayz, college and friends from around the world

Difference and diversity, where do you come from?

Being from a minority I sing a different song


Home is where the heart is

Do I fit in or stand out?

Is it because I'm Black you expect me to be loud and have some clout?

Quiet, shy, reserved ; likes a cup of tea

Am I typically British? Is that me?


Home is where the heart is

The black gold of the sun,

The snow, the wind and rain

British weather rolled into one

I am the Black, the Red, the White and the Blue.

First publicly shared on singing cultures 2016



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Untitled

It was then that I began to feel strange like Alice in Wonderland

spinning rapidly in a spiral of chaos and madness 

The torrent of thoughts beat about my head like a violent storm gaining momentum 


I feel weak and pathetic, ready to throw in the towel 

Everything is wrong,

When I go to speak words roll off my tongue, uncensored

Words that should not be uttered come charging like a raging bull


Left wounded

Left shedding tears 


I feel alone in my plight, stranded, gripped by the hand of fear

who hovers and loiters like a vulture

Where have all my friends gone?

I am confused and I want out of this tiny shoe box in which I cannot breathe

I shuffle along like a zombie, numbed up to the eyes balls 

Even my speech is mechanical and cold, robotic like

Has my heart hardened so, no warmth , no love?

Every ounce drained from my soul


I am refusing to eat, not wanting food to touch the lining of my stomach

Yet it hurts and burns in its pool of acid

I sit reclined on my bed looking blankly out of the open window,

The cool breeze forcing its way in hits my skin reminding me that I am alive


I want to reach out and call a friend to talk but I cannot arrange my

words as to articulate how I feel.

It hurts too much, red raw

The tears are but a hairs breathe away, tipping edge stuff and

I'm afraid once the dam breaks I will drown in my own sorrow

that will never cease to flow


I am in hiding, cooped up in my now tiny childhood bedroom where I feel safe

but it's no longer my own.

Today I don't want to face the world of trouble and chaos 

I want to be in the company of my self, boxed in with books, shoes,

cushions and stuff taking up the air I breathe.

I don't want to hear conversations of aching backs, feeling lousy,

what's for dinner, what day it is and so forth, I don't want to see broken bodies fading away day by day by day by day

Human fixtures that have become a part of the furniture, the old and decrepit recliner riser,

from which comes the clockwork rhythm of belching every hour on the hour.

The thought of it all makes my head want to explode

You tell me I've changed, oh yes I have changed!

I've grown two heads and I wage war, no longer peaceful and gentle.

My patience has been bombed to obliteration and instead the ugliness of my soul has been aroused.

Your charge cuts me as I receive it as an accusation.

I feel ashamed and riddled with guilt.

I feel like I am losing my mind. Silently fanatical, desperately

trying to gather up the marbles that are scattered and rolling across the floor of my life 

Runaway? But where to?

I've got to fix myself up, no time for wallowing in my pity pit

No point in swallowing glasses of red wine brought for me in which to drown my sorrows

I've got to get up and live

But today , anyhow, I'd rather die

Close my eyes and sleep.

2016

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“Mojave shows how local changes make a global impact.”

NGO News Publication  |  April 2016

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Projected growth based on current donations

 
 

2012 - 2016

YEAR by YEAR GROWTH

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