a few things we can learn from the book of I Samuel

"...for the LORD seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart."
-I Samuel 16:7

WE may see the physical, and attach all the negative assumptions that come with that. But far beyond physical characteristics, the Lord values CHARACTER; and the HEART of a man.  Regardless of how someone may look, it can NEVER determine the integrity of their heart. You can only do so much with aesthetics; but you can move mountains with a true heart. I pray to turn more from my natural tendency to focus on the "outward appearance" and lean on the Holy Spirit within me's desire to "looketh on the heart". because even in the body of a child is the heart of a king <3

"And all this assembly shall know that the LORD saveth not with sword and spear: for the battle is the LORD's, and he will give you into our hands"

(p.s. this pic has david looking way too grown man and buff lol)

I don't fight my enemies, God does. Tell your enemies who handles your battles. and let them know they better prepare to lose.

1SAMUEL 17:47

 "And Saul cast the javelin; for he said, I will smite David even to the wall with it. And David avoided out of his presence twice. And Saul was afraid of David, *because the LORD was with him*, and was departed from Saul."
1SAMUEL 18:11-12


"...And Saul saw and knew that the LORD was with David, and that Michal Saul's daughter loved him. And Saul was yet the more afraid of David; and Saul became David's enemy continually."


1SAMUEL 18:28



see, saul was resisted of God because he was disobedient; meanwhile, david, a mere youth, not only smote a giant of the enemy, but was chosen by God to replace Saul and be King because of His obedience, and his love for the one true living God. Saul even tried to let david die by the hands of the Philistines...the thing is, when God is on your side, who can be against you? what weapons shall prosper? needless to say, Saul's plan failed.

People are going to hate you because their disobedience has cursed them; 
or because your lifestyle of holiness convicts them;
and their envy will manifest! they will resent your progress and prosperity because the Lord is blessing you and has favor on you  (Obedience=Prosperity). They will try to bring you down to their level, to attack the goodness in your life. but fret not! Against The Author and finisher of our fate; the Alpha and Omega; the Almighty God,  who can defeat? who can succeed in defying Him? Just know that there is GREATNESS in you when there is GOD in you. and trust me, God will dust the haters off FOR you!


God is so Deliciously GREAT!


Love, Compassion, Royalty

Qu3eN G

oh, world pt. 2

this is the piece i was mentioning in the last blog post (oh, world pt. 1)

MOMMY AND DADDY ARE SAD
by Qu3eN G

at first i was sad for myself. i thought individually my heart broke until i felt the heart of the earth shatter
her palpitations increased so rapidly the vibrations shook her to pieces
too fast for the eye to see, but we feel
til her constant whirring deafened us to her screams of agony
and her heart ceased 
BOOM BOOM
boom-boom
boom
...
hush
whispering, she bled tears 
jagged remnants lasserating our misconception that mother earth can tolerate abuse from loveless children and still give forth love for the selfish
tearing through the shield of ignorance with which we covered our ears
if we would just listen we would hear mama begging for change
we would know Father God told us our end in the beginning
and His love can only grasp us from the underbelly if we acknowedge our weakness
fate is showing us our weak end
mama is trembling
for she is weeping and gnashing teeth
her lip quivers and or foundation quakes
and water trickles turn to typhoons of realization
that we are more fickle than we had imagined
you would think most children would hate to see their mother outpour tears shaped like demise
or hear their their father calling for love but never listening
you would think that
but we children are different
we can see our reflection in the aqua she birthed for us, yet we are blind
and we can hear the symphony he made for us
sang to us
played for us
yet we are deaf
and we can ask and ask and complain about the size of blessings yet
are mute when surroundings yell for change
mama i hear your heart freezing
i heard the icicles form when it stopped beating
the steady rhythm does not put babies in a living sleep any longer but
the soundless presence leads to a permanent rest
oh mama, even your tears are dropping in temperature, i feel your warmth no longer
the snow is the solidification of the pain of being ignored and it is taking places where you brother sun used to reside
oh mommy, oh daddy we are sorry
but i guess your hurt will make us all hurt too

Daddy, i cry for myself no more. now i just cry for the world. 
katrina i stil hear you, why does your ghost keep coming back? your reign isn't over though your rain has left us. your spirit is one of living dead, you have unfinished business thats why within souls you are causing unrest...you will never leave us. i can't get your voice out of my head so my nightmares share mental space with you, against their will. you make it so i will NEVER forget. 
tsunami....
some of your sisters forgot because when you broke their surroundings they said it was "so not me" so selfishly they made mockings of pity. couldn't they translate your terror? all you were saying was "soothe now me" it was your turn for consolation. but we never got the memo so your wrath you never let go and you re occur like a zero, in the number billion
when will your siblings learn
until we uproot our ways, our babies will be the victims?

Haiti i shed skin for you. sheets of optical aqua so thick it replaced my epi and dermis
and i float in sorrow for you, pools of emotional torment
leaving puddles of affliction everywhere i go
people know when you shook, you broke me
mommy you are so vexed with me
you took my blood because we stole your water
so now a dry dust flows through these veins and capilaries
i am just waiting for daddy to inhale and spiritually
blow this tragedy away

Chile i bellow for you. from the depths out of the core of my belly
i cry out to my daddy for you. LOUD reverberations of what you were never meant to be echo out of me, PAPA oh please cup your hand and drink our tears. sip on our sacrifice out of necessity, for the raising of hands in praise replicates the throwing of limbs in defeat. don't let us kill ourselves. we could not identify our suicide because its venom did taste so sweet...

and Japan, i always wanted to speak your language. i started, but i realize that the verbal communication and written symbols was not the kind you needed from me. that is not the type your island was speaking. she has always been a lover of manners but humans, humans always forget to say arigatoo. we have been eating more food than humility...and we don't recognize how much you have cried until you regurgitate massive travesty...

and oh my home, Africa, their silence is your tears. the chains were on our wrists but they have pursed our full lips. for plentiful years the quiet has been the mourning. your daughters legs have been stretched across the continent and thrashed at the meeting of her thighs. in the raping of our integrity she still births pre-mature children to an undernourished world, and they think only in bread and water but love would have fed her just fine. her womb has been beaten, bruises blue like her rivers and black like her night sky... and it sounds hollow like an empty drum, like the drums we used to beat and sway our culture bearing hips to.
though i rub her tummy and place my ear near her swollen navel, and i know her uterus is full of secrets we have been screaming but the world has not heard, residue of lies sitting at the rim. labor has never been so painful. your sons may as well have no legs because they have been walking on their knees. dirt of the ground nipping their joints, they are unaware that they have been blessed with the swiftest of feet because the only running they know these days is away from the wars that swallow them whole and the guns that harrass them and spit out bullets at their dreams. who will teach our men they are made in the image of their father God if injustice continually distorts their vision? blood covers their pupils, they have forgotten how to cry. instead they bawl in the form of dying births and reminiscences of who we know we were meant to be. i know they try to remember that truth in our resemblance but sometimes they forget that Jesus had lashes on his body too, so its just a form of identification when the scars on your back still sting, young men. we are starving papa... how many others fade mommy?

the dust of the earth bred our flesh but her sorrow wrings us dry; we cannot speak for when we open our mouths we can only cough up clouds of dead air. we havent used our voices in so long we forgot how to use them. our spirits dripping through tear ducts, suffocating our optimism, our hope evaporating. 

so yes, for you world, i do cry. i pray, and i cry.
no i lay me down to sleep, i pray papa my soul to keep
and if i die before i wake, mama give daddy my soul to take

Amen




love, compassion, royalty
Qu3eN G

oh, world pt. 1

there are disasters happening all around us!
When i wrote this piece, it was a period of time where within a span of a few days, one disaster after the other had occurred. One of them being:

CHILE EARTHQUAKE 2010



i cannot sit still . i'll use my voice, my words, my actions to  make a difference. some people think loving the way i love is a choice..no it is an assignment. it is in my natural and spiritual DNA, my destiny, to be a part of changing the world for the better; to be an extension of Christ's love for us. Through my acts I hope to help bring a dying world to the only answer of hope. LOVE. and, God is LOVE. Everything He is is love. Let us all try to be love, to show love, because when one soul hurts, we all do. 99% of our DNA is the same, therefore we are one in the same. we are family. its time for us to act as such!


this piece Mommy and Daddy are sad was written before I went to Haiti with an AMAZING and wonderful charity called Haiti Charity Hope Foundation that has been working for years to impact the lives of souls in impoverished Haiti (facebook: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=7807578076, website:http://www.hchf.org) on behalf of a statewide project I co founded called Unity in Action (i'll post more info on that project at the end of the blog). to say it changed my life would be an understatement. it changed me spiritually, and opened my eyes; it fed the hunger in my soul to make a change.


There are many more disasters, to name a few:

FLOOD IN PAKISTAN


MUDSLIDE IN CHINA





MISFORTUNE OF CIVIL WARS AND  UNREST, CHILD SOLDIERS IN UGANDA, SIERRA LEONE, SUDAN AND OTHER AFRICAN COUNTRIES

the only thing that CAN make a change is a willing heart, willing hands, and a faith in God.
We tend to be interested when the news makes a phenomenon of disaster, then our interest dies down. we have to be active, we have to want to know because the media won't always tell us the truth. we have to keep pushing, keep moving, keep praying. Find a way to get involved, in anyway, in a cause. wherever you live, who ever you are, the worlds issues are our issues.

 ON UNITY IN ACTION:


NOTE: due to the schedules of the facilitators and certain extenuating circumstances, UIA is on a temporary break, but still looking for members and volunteers, and assisting other programs with aid and networking opportunities.


Unity in Action is a state-wide project initiated by two 19 year old college students, Phredrick Jean-Baptiste of Pawtucket and Gabrielle Samantha Gibson of Providence.  Rhode IslandTeen Institute (RITI) of Initiatives for Human Development (IHD,which is based in Cranston, RI http://www.ihdri.org/) is their "parent/partner" organization. The goal of Unity in Action is to connect organizations, charities, churches, community programs,and all those who want to help in bettering the lives of others in order to make a massive impact on the prevalent focal issue We are working with two 501(c) 3 charities (primarily Haiti Charity Hope, http://www.hchf.org/), the Haitian Family Organization, associations from Community College of Rhode Island, University of Rhode Island and Rhode Island College, Ralph J. Holden Community Center, among many other groups who are all working towards relief efforts for the victims of Haiti. In addition to the non-profits, we will also be donating to Partners in Health (http://www.standwithhaiti.org/haiti, www.PIH.org) As of now we have already held several events and drives, raised funds, and have drop off locations across the state. We also have started working with public schools in Providence, Pawtucket, Central Falls and Lincoln. All proceeds and materials donated go directly to those in need. We have sent shipments, raised funds, and aided HCHF in a missions trip to Haiti in March 2010. In addition, the coordinators will be volunteering in the upcoming months hands-on with Haiti Charity Hope in Haiti. We are looking in 2011 to expand and work with more charities on additional prevalent issues and areas of need.

We want to give everyone, no matter their age or economic status, an opportunity to make a difference. Our motto is "One person can make a difference, but united we can impact the WORLD". We can do more when we work together and tap into the power of solidarity; and it is the goal of Unity in Action to put that ideal into fruition.

WE NEED YOUR HELP! we must work together to make a change! are you interested in getting involved? do you want to donate? collaborate? volunteer? learn more?

CONTACT US!

message us, comment, add us on fb!




do what you can, world!


love, compassion,  royalty


Qu3eN G

How do they see us?

This; this broke my heart.
It threw me back a few decades to black face and aunt jemima; but by another group of minorities that is stereotyped, ridiculed, misrepresented? (i know part of it has to be because American culture...Black american culture, does similar things not just to people of Asian descent, but of all minorities.)
It makes me wonder why
Why do other cultures view us this way?
Why are we, in some ways, perpetuating the stereotypes portrayed?
What is the media saying to the world, if the mass media is the only window into our culture?
why this? why in 2010?
My flesh wants to be angry but honestly i am hurt and disturbed.
most importantly, how can we stop this? how can we take back our image, our worth? because its apparent that this negative and inaccurate view of black people is far beyond the eyes of racist Americans; it is a global epidemic. How do we change this? how do we work towards a world where  humanity is commonplace; where we are all one people and unity is our strength?
how would you feel if your little child saw this, and got the impression that this is how other cultures viewed us? would s/he be wrong?
if not for ourselves lets change the world for our future; the the seeds of tomorrow; for minds that are still forming and are yet to be tainted by this pitiful travesty. its time to take us back!
i would like to know your opinions, views, agreements, arguments, whatever. lets just get moving, we have to be the change we want to see!

"they've got so much things to say right now....I'll never forget no way, how they crucified Jesus Christ...so don't you forget no way, who you are, and where you stand in the struggle..."

-Lauryn Hill

love, compassion, royalty

Qu3eN G

childlike (a poetic story)

for those of you who don't know my poetry
its long
but long for a reason
hence why i call them poetic stories
here is the most recent one! (came out of NOWHERE too!)

remember back in the day

back when we wore those sweaters that were anything but fashionable

blew kisses to the sky

deemed the concrete our canvas

and painted laughter with chalk

creating be-buh be-beats with our feet 

that moved so rapidly it was almost like we were walking on air

like we were flying

and we were

soaring on innocence and dreams and concerns no greater than

basic multiplication and snacktime

trading cookies for ricecrispies treats

and coloring book schemes

back when a pinch on the arm was a badge of honor

because everyone knew that if he chose to pinch you then

you must be the apple of his prepubescent eye

when the deadliest of germs were cooties

and ribbons licked our pigtailed curls

girls were girls and boys were boys 

and secret handshakes and codes so dear to us

we swore not even the CIA could crack

we mastered piglatin and gibberish like they were the language of elite

and to us they were

somewhere between naptime and middle school

between professional wrestling and sesame street

we lived in la juventude

before b stood for bureaucracy 

and c stood for capital

we laced our minds with the alphabet 

and our pens with cursive outlines

we found mystery in the sky and our limits didn't exist

everything was possible

anything was tangible

as long as we finished our homework first

jumping to the moon

swimming in the milkyway and vacationing on the stars of our selection

was a daily activity

this, depending on how full our schedule was.

"oh its tuesday? before or after my nap?

disregard zoo adventures, we are 2 juice boxes and 

3 cheese sticks overdue for a good game house

i'll be mommy this time because i was the daughter 3 times already"!

and this was as serious a matter as any stock market, business meeting

or appointment, because we were dedicated to our youth

even if that was just a sometimes thing

even if somedays, some momements, some times in between 

we had to age much more rapidly than our childhood was ready for

even when the reality of going home meant entering silence

because no one was there; because bills don't pay themselves

tiredworkingmothers do

and somedays, somewhere between keeping the lights on

so the monsters wouldn't get you

and realizing that mommy isn't there 

so that she can keep the lights on

it started to slip from you

drip

there was a drop of your innocence

somewhere between swapping goodies and stories about superhero daddies

so fly justice league has nothin on em

you brought swinging arms to school because well, the superhero lost his cape

and was now sipping kryptonite from a beer can 

and goodies weren't as easy to come by as excuses for why your daddy doesn't pick you up from school

how did you go from packing up your princess backpack at the end of the day

to packing moving boxes more than you packed lunches?

how did you become so much more fluent in goodbye waves than hand clapping games

aren't all nine year old hands the same?

aren't five year old hands the same?

or was it just you balling five little fingers into fists

asking, begging mommy and daddy to come to your rescue

because you swore no other hand should touch you in places

you weren't even ready yourself to navigate

and them turning you away because, how could their friends daughter

"do our baby any harm? they're just playing a game"

a game a game a game a

violate my innocence so i can stow it away to bottom of my 

toy chest mind

shut the door and the lights

til i make it go away

make it

make it stop

make it end like play time when the bell rings

so loud but nobody was hearing me

til i pretend a make believe that a little child should never have to be

and make it fade away

a game she said

a game

i didn't like those games

but

she kept playing.

do you want to be the girl? she asked

i was the girl. the little girl. the baby girl.

but really all i wanted to do was, take my little girl hands

my little five year old hands and

cover my eyes and maybe 

maybe not exist

somewhere in the midst of merry go rounds 

i fell off and was tumbling on the ground

and no one saw me

even then, i wiped off my bloody heart

dusted off my battered innocence

put my hopes in my pocket and kept running

running, spinning, jumping

being

being exactly what ages 0 to young adult are supposed to be

chewing bubble gum and chasing ice cream trucks

licking brownie battered spoons so thick

you could spread some on your heart

and keep the good times glued for safe keeping

playing hide and seek

peeking through dainty fingers

man, was i a bad hider

1,2, skip a few, 99, 100

and then the hunt was on

sweat on brow dripping

holding your breathe 

pulse racing

oh my gosh i hope they don't see me

TAG!

bad at hiding from my young faced friends

and bad at hiding from a feeling that i found out made 

grown ups fall to pieces that no body could pick up

made teenagers stamp themselves with early expiration dates

made young men and women doubt there was a God

made girls like me pop prescription heart fixers behind closed doors 

like we used to pop gum drops hoping medicated happiness would taste the same

because the doctor said it might make me okay

but i swear, that first moment i looked in the mirror

tilted my head, puckered my face

and exploded like the sun combusting into pain dipped daggars

ready to tear my reflection to unidentifiable shreds

molten fire tears that melted my joy as they rode the curves of

high rise mocha cheeks

in that moment when

a richter breaking quake obliterated the center of my

7 year old core

i knew that depression was really good finding

finding me

it bit into my flesh

crushing my bones

digging deep into my marrow and sucking out

all the genuine youthful smiles i had left

and i learned the craft of creating masks very early on

still loved disney movies

and nickelodeon 

and had a desire to taste that unnatural green slime

still loved visits to my cousins

still distracted by anything with a bright color and a fun sound

still thought my big sisters were the coolest

still loved playing dress up

still loved to make up songs and imagine being center stage

still a child

broken, but a child by definition

sometimes not by emotion

somenights not by my thoughts

but i was nonetheless a child

a miniature version of the mother whose

speech tasted like jolloff rice and fufu to my

Liberian American ears

whose caramel skin shined like gold to me

who gave me kisses before her grave yard shift so i had some colored lips 

whose hands wiped tears from a child who missed her favorite woman

whose fingers became black 

whose eyes had bags full of stories too painful for her mouth to tell

whose feet had swollen to double their size

whose heart was 4 different shades of the blues i learned to paint in art class

yet so driven

it still kept beating

who hadn't understood the immense beauty in all her scars 

and her flat mouthed smile

who through exhaustion made us stockings for Christmas

costumes for dance recitals

and clothes with her bare hands

that was me

i was

endless stories untold

and wrapped up and muted and hushed 

so that i could feign functionality before i hit puberty

was whispers to God pleading death and life 

before i ever even tasted what life was like

was spilled orange juice and crushed realities 

was saturday morning cartoons

and  hugs, kisses and lap sitting on my Grandma

fighting off any who challenged my love

was sunday morning sermons all by myself

was bedtime stories and songs from my mama's homeland

was cap'n crunch milk dripping from the side of my mouth

giggling silly infectious laughter

spinning til the room moved with me

dancing for my family like i was on stage for the queen

painting each toe for every color of the rainbow i anticipated

because the sky cried like my tears

was

well, i was a kid

and through my rose colored lenses of

grown up travesties

it seems

somedays i'd still go back there

to that place

it was scary but my juventud kept me whole

and so did my God

he held me even when i was in pieces

and i know my story is not my own

and i know 

millions of babies will live their lives just so

and i know millions of children

don't taste lazy mondays or the joy of the purple dinosaur

so i count my blessings like i counted my oreos 

like i was eager to count my fingers and toes

cause i take everything 

in everything

i sip it up and spit it out for the universe

(like when i used to drink milk and make it come out my nose)

because i am a woman today

because of the child i was

and i know My God made me just so

He made me just so

beautifully formed

cracks intended

do not return to sender 

but give your imperfections to the world

cause believe me baby, they have them to

and smile, smile, smile

because though i'm closer to 21

than 6 or 7

my little years, were mine

and in between the rough edges

i found heaven

the best part though, the best part about being naive

was at night, when ma made us fall on our knees

and faithfully

wholeheartedly

some say because we didn't know better

i say because sometimes children KNOW much better

with all that was within us we said

"now i lay me down to sleep

i pray the Lord my soul to keep

and if i die before i wake

i pray the Lord my soul to take

God bless mommy

God bless daddy

God bless ALL my people...

and make me a good girl

amen"

and make me a good girl

he did. 

because i am His girl.

How God keeps promises 

:)

love, compassion, royalty

qu3eng