Kirjahaku

I turn around quickly and ask like every little Black child asking 23 questions, "Mama Mama---" it's the early 1980's and i'm watching 'King Creole' my fave Elvis movie,"--Presley is cool---ain't he Mama?" Jackie's face darkens, her bottom lip frowns down, and she tells me she hated Elvis. She says she never liked Elvis Aaron Presley because he said somethin' about all Negro people can do for him, is shine his blue suede shoes. "He said that?", I'm all shook up for a nanosecond. I thought he was cool. I slowly turn back around to enjoy the rest of the movie on the Zombie T.V. cathode ray tube; Questioning everything, still bobbin' my big head to the SOULFUL jazzy sounds, skeptical of the dude that styled his hair with ROSE OIL and vaseline. The "Barnett Crossroads", is the signpost reminder that visitors SEE right before they cross The 'Long Poetic Bridge', also known as "The General Walter KING Wilson JR. Bridge.'

A Hard Venting Blog. A Soft Fragrant Poem. Two contradictions co-existing in one prose. A Rose Book. Registered with the Library of Congress & released (June 06, 2012). An UPDATED Hardcover Edition of my First Self-Written book. 250 pages. 77 Blogs, 77 proses of Poetry, all written by Milwaukee, Wisconsin Author, Sears Luther Barnett Junior, aka 'The Poet', written on a poet's dare, a challenge which came from my niece, Ekua Adisa, a fellow poet whom seeded the dare, along with my older sister, Sharon V Schroeder, whom planted the seeds for me, to write a book, or two, or three..." - The 'Pink Rose' Cover Photography is by West Allis, Wisconsin Indie Film maker, Phil Koch.

When I was a 6 y o kid, my Mama, Lulu Jack, would frustratingly send me & my siblings packing, down South to Alabama for Summer vacations. I would hop from my Grandmama Bonnie's Sun-baked, humid front porch, cross the red dirt road, without sidewalks, which is the official border County-line between Prichard Co.-to- Mobile County. I'd plop down, sweatin', meditating by the 100-year-old Great Live Oak Tree, that still stands today. I'd sit under the cool of the Oak's shade as it stood like some ancient Sentinel guarding over my best friend's crickety porch. I'd drink a cold glass of her iced water, as Miss Dane opened another imaginary book conjuring up inside her tiny head. I'd rest at her bosom, listening to the rosy stories my Oracle friend slowly brewed like hot Chili on a subzero January Winter's day.The deepest Oak roots, are also the branches...", My 100 year old best friend, MISS DANE, would tell me. 'Ms D' was an herbalist, and grand master voodoo priestess. She taught me how to use REAL ROSE MAGIC.