Keeba's Korner

KEEBA KORNERED & KAPTURED IN KAPTIVITY *** Includes articles from column, life experiences and various creative writing techniques of the life according to Keeba Smith - Hankered Writer and Feared Compressor. *** K Smith is an author, and social issues commentator. KSmith023@yahoo.com

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Location: Colorado, United States

I dont waste time with non-voters who are just menials-people who stand without meaning & contend to waste time with much success. As a child I never knew the sacrifices my parents faced while they intimated & provided for their children. Though they hinted they were lacking this and/or that, I can honestly say that we were never hungry, cold, or homeless but just the opposite. My parents were just that, real parents who took the time to teach right from wrong. They taught us to love and appreciate those in our lives and to be strong individuals. As the youngest of seven, I reminisce on the times all of us shared while growing up. Before the passing of both of my parents, I'm so glad I got the chance to express to them how I felt and my deepest gratitude of their love, value & foundation of respect and responsibility. It is & it is not because of them who I am as well as it is and is not because of them who I am not-God has given them to me-not me them. I have strength.

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Monday, March 27, 2006

Cherryl Aldave | The Last Nerve

I do not have children....BUT, I USED TO BE ONE!

I do not have any children

If you are childless and are planning a move, move to a place without children. Mind you, I do not have kids, but I use to be one, and I certainly know what it took to be Mr. Smith’s child and I tell you, it certainly was not easy. At least at times.

My parents were just that: PARENTS. REAL parents who took the time to raise their children. They took the time to raise their children while facing many sacrifices. I certainly applauded them for their dedication as well as discipline.

While growing up, my parents seem to raise us with little effort. Well, it appeared effortless until they had to discipline us and remind us who was boss. Nevertheless, they did a GREAT job!

I live in a supposedly controlled community. The association is suppose to regulate or manage mine and some other 5000 plus properties. However, what they are unable to do, is watch other people’s kids. I call them Bay-Bay’s kids who run amuck 24 hours a day 7 days a week, destroying people’s property. And what makes matters worse, the parents do not even care. One may argue and say that the parents do not know, then I would ask, "Why? Why don’t they know?

Here’s my gripe

I went outside this morning to retrieve the morning paper and you know what one of those bad rascals has done? Yep, they broke one of my security lights! Not the wireless cheap ones, but one of the electric lights that will take some time to be replaced.
Lawd!

Those Bay-Bay kids are destructive and this is not the first time they have taken it upon themselves to alter my property. Last year, one of those scoundrels purposely kicked one of my fake squirrels off the wooden frame around my tree. At first, I thought my spouse had removed it thinking that it was too girlish or something. As I prepared to give my spouse the third degree and compose him to receive 5 hours of questioning under the hot lava lamps, I discovered he was innocent. I suppose it was obvious that it was not the Tim Allen-wannabe who walked around the house as well as slept in an empty tool belt.

It was a short investigation when I looked at the wooden frame that once housed my friend the squirrel, as his little, insy-winsy tinny tiny squirrelly foot was intact. So no, it was not the home improvement person.

Last year in June, Home Improvement guy and me spent many laborious hours replacing and redecorating our white stones on the West Side of our home. What did the little scoundrels do? Yep, they found pleasure in removing a few rocks at a time and placing them in a location that was suitable for them! My only question is where were those little snots when I needed them last June.

I do not have kids, but I use to be one. My parents would have slapped me to sleep if I even THOUGHT about touching someone’s property. And if I ever THOUGHT about removing someone’s property, they would have called the police on me only AFTER I endured 6 weeks of Mr. Smith's torture.

One day, I was only a mile from my home, when I noticed these scoundrels standing in this man’s yard, holding one of the man’s rocks. I rolled down my window and told the Bay-Bay kid to put it down. You know what he did? Yep, he ignored me.

Yesterday, when I was leaving my home, I noticed a very large bolder-like red rock sitting displaced. It was just sitting there away from the other rocks. Who did that? I am certain that the owner did not decorate his landscape that way. Who did it? Do you suppose that particular rock decided to step away from the rest, a Black-rock of the other rocks? Hmmm, perhaps this rock was a rebel of rocks. I’m not sure.

I have politely asked the scoundrels behind me, time and time again - lawd - I am so tired of asking them to stay off the fence as I paid more then $200 to repair it. Do they listen? Please, I would have a better chance being adopted by Donald Trump.

I do not have kids, but I use to be one. When we climbed up on the fence, my dad would beat us down as if we stole something. Now, I do not condone beatings, but I DO condone discipline.

I recall a friend of mine, Teresa. Some years ago, I was at her home and her child performed an act that was not to Teresa’s liking. Teresa informed the child that she would be spanked. The child was unlike me when I was a child – quietly shaking in my boots. No, not this child. She yelled, screamed and hollered BEFORE Teresa even laid a finger on her. I thought the child was just considering the thought of getting the beat down. Lawd! Anyway, the child’s roar was heard a million miles away and before you could say, "I was only kidding," the police was at the door.

Teresa stood her ground when the cop told her he would have to place her under arrest for child-abuse.

"You can put me in handcuffs now, or you can put me in handcuffs later, said Teresa. "But she will be spanked."

"Ma’am," said a posed cop in a cop-like stance and voice. "I can not stand here and allow you to spank this child."

"Well, then you can leave and then I’ll spank her, but she will be punished."

"Ma’am, I can not allow you to do that."

"Well, then you take her."

The police officer vacated the property without having to labor over paperwork.

Now mind you, I’m not saying that every parent should go around beating the stuffing out of their children. No. At least not to the point that the white meat shows, but I do believe strict discipline is always in order. Moreover, I honestly feel that parents are not able to be their child’s friends, as it just does not work.

When I was a youngster, we had chores from sun up till sun down, or when Mr. Smith went to work – which was often. Nonetheless, the second warden, Mrs. Smith was ALWAYS on duty. She was strict, but allowed us to have our freedom (from time to time).

While the history books state that the emancipation proclamation was signed in 1863, we were in dispute as my parents did not recognize it as law. We were not free! We had chores on top of chores = chores-galore! Lawd, it seemed to never end; just endless.

We were rich! Yep, richer than most as we had 4 dishwashers, 7 remote controls and in-home housekeepers 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You see, my parents thought if we were busy working around the house, then there was less time for us to get involved in any mischief.

One of the most memorable moments, was when my Mr. Smith did a roll call: "Lynn, Cymmne, Greg, Sean…" Once all of the seven crumb snatchers answered, Mr. Smith was able to account for all of his little progenies and knew who he would be calling to do this and/or that.

Another one of Mr. Smith’s stunts: He would call out, "Lynn, go and tell Cymmne to come here." If memory serves me correctly, Lynn was outside with Cymmne!

Last Smitty stunt: Mr. Smith would be standing near the sink, which was only a foot or less from the refrigerator. "Ranell, give me a glass of ice water."

When Mr. Smith was on late night duty, he would make sure that the kitchen sink was empty. If not, then someone would be wakened from a deep sleep.

The tile floor in the kitchen was always mopped. Throughout the house, the bare wooden floors were always mopped AND waxed. The furniture was always dusted and the windows were so clean that they appeared as if the glass was not even there. All of the beds were made daily and the bathroom spotless. The worse part of it all, was waking up at dawn to pickup paper on the front and back lawns.

The worst and BEST part of it all, my parents did it out of love - teaching us respect and responsibility.

I do not have kids, but I use to be one. Some years ago, my brother was arrested for hitting his child. At the time, my brother worked for a juvenile detention center. My brother was also a detainee in the same detention center as a youth and was doing his best to keep his child from becoming a number-bearer.

I applaud my brother for doing whatever it took to be heard. He is a parent who has a job to do. If not, then the State can have him.

I do not have kids, but I use to be one. I have witnessed kids talking back to not only their elders, but to their parents! Please, if I even THOUGHT about attempting such an act, my parents would have skinned me alive.

I do not condone beatings however I do condone strict discipline. I have seen kids run up and down the aisles in grocery stores, while the parents do nothing but wish they were childless. I watch in sadness as the parents try to act as though they are calm, but I know differently. Instead, of watching excessive gray hairs extend from the parents’ head, I perform an act that is unlawful but permissible by the tired parent. Yep, you guessed it! I trip those kids for their parents as I feel it’s the least I can do. The parents will thank me later.

Once while in Wal-Mart, I noticed this young mother with an over-sized child in her shopping cart. The woman seemed to be in a rush as she darted out from one of the aisles in such speed, that I could have sworn I seen smoke burning on the wheels.

"Just wait till we get to the car," I heard her calmly say. "Just wait till we get to the car."

Moments later, I was in the checkout line and I noticed a very similar woman. This woman had on the same attire as the one with the child in the cart, but her equipoise was totally different. Here, I seen a very calm mother pushing her child in the store. I do not recall the expression of the child, but mommy seemed very pleased.

I do not condone Charles Martin’s actions, but I think I understand. I honestly believe there is more to the story then just some kid "walking on this man’s lawn." I believe Mr. Martin was just fed up with the scoundrels who rendered stress to a hobby that he once enjoyed. I believe that he enjoyed working on his lawn and was probably a favorite pastime. However, I believe he was just so annoyed by the destructive acts of the rascals in his neighborhood, that one day he just loaded his gun. The story reports that Mr. Martin called the police and waited for them to arrive and he admitted his crime. He sounds peaceful to me; a caring and observant property owner’s dream neighbor. I wish that he had not taken this kid's life, as well as taken the law into his own hands. In contrast, I can only imagine that he was at wits end and that the law had not worked for him in the past. At least that is my experience, anyway.

(My heart goes out to the family as well as to Mr. Martin.)
I do not condone people killing others.

I do not have kids, but I use to be one and I am certainly thankfully that my PARENTS taught me respect and responsibility.


Colorado's Cool Mom





©Keeba Smith
Hankered Writer and Feared Compressor
K Smith is a columnist for Black Denver Speaks, an author, and social issues commentator
Keeba018@yahoo.com

Wednesday, March 15, 2006

"It's News To Me" Online Journal

As I talk to some folk who have only seen pictures of Colorado and long to visit, I always wonder exactly what images they have seen that makes them yearn for the Mile High City. I am a native and have traveled the State however, never found it to be any different from any other State I have visited. I acquiesce after visiting Colorado West Wind. I feel very fortunate.

I am fortunate to have become acquainted with a very profound individual who at this very moment forces me to recall the aphorism, by Carl Jung, "Your vision will only become clear only when you look into your heart." (An inner peace that so many have spent years searching for but has yet to find.)

Like me, Mr. Linville is a Coloradian. He is a dedicated writer - should be published - who courtly invites his readers into his world. And as an avid reader of his on-line journal, he allows me to travel with him and his dog, Dakota, to a peaceful place that I long to embrace. In short, I envy Mr. Linville for his ability to capture such magnificence images of an area that seems almost foreign to me - close, yet so far away.

Mr. Linville exhibits his passion for music, though it is apparent that Country is his first love while seeking employment at Willie 92.5 Country Radio. As a lover of music, I am eclectic when it comes to music and art, and have secretly vowed to give Willie a listen once he is hired, but until then, my own personal collection of music will remain.

Fashionably, I have accepted Colorado Desert Wind as my regular dose of reality. Here, Mr. Linville shares his daily eventful life and I have since found it personal, as I am incapable of not checking in to see what he has discovered. He posts pictures of his serene surroundings and after viewing them, you wish that you were there, however, with his descriptive art, drawing you in as if you are, sharing in such peace. While I watch Dakota appeased to do what some people run away from, I myself, long to trade place with him in a matter of seconds.

Here, where I reside, in my cluttered City, with cars and other noisy pollutants, I sit only hours away from Dakota who I can only guess is freely-playfully running in a peaceful region.

Recently, I have learned that Mr. Linville is a website creator and has appreciation for his friends.

I suppose Mr. Linville is currently taking a break and has stepped away; out from his computer, but most likely behind his camera enjoying the beautiful outdoors of a place in Colorado.

"Who looks outside, dreams; Who looks inside, awakens."
~Carl Jung ~

Hugs to Dakota in Colorado’s Desert Wind.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Mr. Linville Colorado

***THIS IS KEEBA SMITH***
©Keeba Smith
Hello, this is Keeba Smith...

I was told that I appeared sad
Perhaps even mad
But oh no, my dear loved one
Sitting there
Close but not in the nearest chair
I’m not sad.
Perhaps cynical to a fault
But don’t hesitate to include
me
Me sitting here in this old vault.
Not unfriendly
But just the opposite
Sitting here thinking of all my composites...
I’ve made in this here life
Not wanting to cause any strife
But learning;
Hopefully teaching
Not sure as of yet
I put in some
so I guess the same I will get

Perhaps contumacious
Oh ok, a little stubborn.
Just taking in this life I was born in
Sitting here with painted fingernails
My tan skin hoping to prevail.
Not lazy or onus
Not even looking for a bonus
That I didn’t deserve
But just working harder and trying to preserve
Something good;
Left for the new
Not those who wish to remain old petrified wood

Oh, you seeI have lost a lot of sleep
Worrying about all of you.
Not just my friends and family,
But yes, you too
All of you!
I am piqued the rulers didn’t care enough
They don’t care if you face such unwrought

Please don’t get me wrong
This is not just another song
Or dance to pass the blame
Just be aware that some of us know their game.
I once was baffled
But now I just have to laugh

Yes, I’m humorous
Always looking for a good laugh
Almost sarcastic
Even facetious
There is humor in everything
You must laugh at what this life brings
And not be sad or mad.
But get over it.
And find something to lighten your day.
Trust in the Master of the universe
The smile will appear again across your face

I’m gonna go now.
Seclude myself in my safe haven.
Again, it’s another fault
To hide away in my safe vault.
Here, just like many others, there is a television set.
But I can certainly bet, there’s not a lot of this going on:
Jerry Springer,
CNN,
Fox News,
Al Bundy, All in the Family
or Sanford and son.
Yes, I’m eclectic in my choice
But with this select, I find a (my) voice
I have company!Heee heee!
Gonna go listen to my music
With that I’m just as preclusive
So, with nothing more to do but hope and pray
These thoughts came to me one day
While trying to describe whom I was,
or am not.
If you decide to spread this around
I hope I am found
Alive!
Remember
me
If they come for me
These are my thoughts to keep
As I refused to participate with the rest of the sheep.

©Keeba Smith (2001)

From the book of anthology "Keeba Kornered and Kaptured in Captivity" © No. 34

Author's Comments on, THIS IS KEEBA SMITH:
Once, perhaps twice, but no more, I was asked who was the real me, Keeba Smith. Well, this describes me to a tee. So, like it or not, I can not deviate from any other plan nor put on a façade. This is me from beginning to end. The end. ………………………………………………………………
~



©Keeba Smith
Hankered Writer and Feared Compressor
K Smith is a columnist for Black Denver Speaks, an author, and social issues commentator
KSmith018@hotmail.com

Saturday, March 11, 2006

"Delusional" Response



Odd, but I had no idea that I would receive so many responses to my article,
Consequently, I assumed (and yes, I did make a butt of myself), that I would get away with voicing my surmise with little conviction and be rendered without malice. Yes, I wrote it in hopes that someone (anyone) would read and commen, but not with such fervor about my taste in music. I wrote it thinking that it was just another release that I could pass on sharing a little passion, a brief information about my beliefs on economic issues and the downfall. I wrote it because it was on my mind. Now, I did not write it because I needed an article to submit, but to share my feelings about the demise of a much needed radio station. (Needed, is my opinion as well as other listeners who tuned in.)

The feedback I received was most noted. They were both informative as well as humorous and interesting. Some of the comments were biased and scathing. Mind you, I was not distressed by these comments, but rather surprised in which they derived. You see some of these comments were from non-Blacks as well as from people of color and/or Black folk and/or African Americans. Please note that I am not sure as to what we are calling or identifying ourselves as - people of color, Black folk or African Americans. (I have an article for Mr. Morgan Freeman’s comments as listed in the Denver Weekly News, which will be certainly shared at a later date.)

Again, not all of the comments received were bad, but luckily, someone was kind enough to provide a website for former listeners to post their comments. I have not had a chance to view all of them, but if interested, the link is posted
.

Nevertheless, I will address those who voiced their disgust to my statements in my article. First, let me say with all sincerity, I apologize for any discomfort Delusions that are forced to appear real may have caused. If it caused you to quit your job, go out and find another job, tear up the entire newspaper, (which by the way, wasn’t your newspaper, but borrowed/stolen from your neighbor’s driveway.) I promise not to inform the authorities of your act (illegal or otherwise.)

Secondly, my brain took a leave of absence and because it is against the law for my employers to inform you of my welfare, that was not passed on to my faithful, loveable readers.

Thirdly, my employers stood over me with whips and chains forcing me to write something -anything - about the latest effect on Black, red, green and some white folk. Oh, and just in case you did not already know, I am not into the whips-n-chains thingy, when it’s outside the bedroom. And especially when it’s performed by not only men, but women of color who have non-Black sponsors.

Fourthly, my brain took a leave for absent-mindedness. I could have sworn I had the linguistic rules in the write order in order to right well. And lastly, I do not make the rules of the news, I just attempt to report them, or at least something while the checks continue to roll in.


I write what I feel and/or what’s on my mind or thought for the day. Yes, I have several (2) articles to be released and various issues could be a factor as to what may or may not appear here. Consider, I am struck by a vehicle, my computer explodes, my brain takes another unnoted leave, my husband or lover keeps me handcuffed to the bed posts for too long, and/or Osama Bin Forgotten takes me hostage, etc. However, I don’t think the latter would ever occur as many Black folk feel that the leaders of Al Qaeda does not want any of us. If that is true, I certainly thank God as I know no one would put up a ransom or negotiate for my release from the Talibam; especially my spouse and/or secret lover.


Okay, now honestly, why did the radio station change to Willie 92.5? Rumor has it that the 92.5 Jammin crew did not have a clue that they would be fired. In addition, rumor has it that there was a buzz flying about that the radio station would be changed to a new format. And if that is true, it might make sense as to why there weren’t many commercials but just straight music; forgetting about their paid sponsors. Heck, I don’t know. But, I will tell you this: I have found two new radio stations to tune in to: as well as .

I mention both of these not to prove how eclectic I am when it comes to music, but to let you know that there are still a few good radio stations out there. I was an avid listener of "Jammin 92.5" because it was the oldies but the goodies of an era that I grew up on. It was mostly what the offspring of the 60’s considered Soul Music. We had Al Green, Teddy P, EWF along with the AWB and KC and the Sunshine Band. Let us face it, they played it for us youngsters who could still remember when and what. And as as Edith and Archie once sang, “Those were the days!”

Back then, my sisters played plenty of Barry White and Aretha Franklin while my brother’s small radios and LP’s kicked out the occasional Hall N Oates. By the way, my brother’s favorite was and still is, "Sarah." My God, the boy loved the song so much, that he named his daughter after that song. Sheesh! But I suppose that it is no worse than wanting Van Halen to be my boyfriend or pretending that I was the Black Pat Benatar with a strong sweet sultry voice of Roberta Flack’s melodies.

Back then, I thought Rap Musical Lyrics was just a bunch of noise, and NWA were just troubled youth. However, when my mind was closed, I would have never learned that Tupac was the best poetry writer that ever walked this earth and delivering powerful messages. Least I forget the messages from Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg who delivered "Lil Ghetto Boy." In addition, Public Enemy’s "Fight The Power."


As the years would come and go, my youngest brother and I were turned on to some soft rock and back then, there was a different definition of pop music. I can only guess as to why we were converted and our listening style became diverted to the likes of Queen, Bon Jovi and Genesis. The schools we attended caused us to listen to folk music as well as perform folk dances. I can still do the Irish Stutter (Step) and Square Dance with the best of them. I know how to do-si-do and swing to the left while my partner swings to the right and then my partner behind me.



Meet her by the right in the middle of the hall;
corner by the left;
back to your partner with a do-si-do, back to your corner with a do-si-do;
now swing that partner one little whirl and send her away for the corner girl.
Tell me I didn’t know my stuff! We consulted and gravitated to Ludwig Wittgenstein and other philosophical geniuses along with World Atlas studies, Encyclopedias, National Geographic, and other cultural literature. I suppose it had something to do with our peers, change in atmosphere, OUR society and surroundings. Heck, I don’t know. Just that our approach was different and we easily and gracefully embraced it. (With an o p e n mind.)

Perhaps I was not clear, and what some may have not made note of was because of 92.5’s format change, I blame the change in the economy and the lack thereof. I believe the former managers had no control over the lack of funds to keep the radio going and thus Willie 92.5 was born.


Back in the day, we were forced to endure the scratchy sounds coming from KDKO AM with Dr. Daddy-O's voice barely being heard. Those days are outdated-a thing of the past of AM to FM radio. No longer do we have a Black owned radio station and in my opinion, there is a reason for it. No, not racism and no, because a Black man/woman cannot get a loan to develop one. I just believe there is a reason for it and that only Blacks can understand. Again, it is not racial, just a Black thing.

Nonetheless, I believe those disgruntled comments could have been saved for something more effective. Lets say something like um, writing a letter to your Congress man/woman regarding the current effects on the economy; increased electricity bills, groceries, gasoline, etc. You could have used some of that energy by spending time with your kids. And yes, I can tell some of you have kids because they were just screaming in the background of your letters. You could have spent your time and energy cleaning your house as your comments just reeked of filth. Shame on you, writing letters of discontent when you could have written a novel and gotten paid for it. Perhaps if you were more alert as to how the government has changed your credit card expenses and how you are planning to pay for all of those Christmas gifts that were purchased on the plastic, you would have spent your time on YOUR future. That alone would have or should have made you more cautious of your time and energy. Not only would you have more money, but also more time that could have been spent wisely. Moreover, have you even considered the economic proposal for this nation, the retirement of
, his replacement and the effects on this nation as well as abroad?

Just to note, the unemployment rate was unchanged in November at 5.0 percent. The jobless rate has ranged between 4.9 and 5.1 percent since May. The number of unemployed persons, 7.6 million, was essentially unchanged in November. The unemployment rates for adult men (4.3 percent), adult women (4.6 percent), teenagers (17.2 percent), whites (4.3 percent), and Hispanics or Latinos (6.0 percent) showed little or no change in November. The jobless rates for blacks (10.6 percent) and, specifically, for adult black women (9.1 percent), rose over the month. In November, the unemployment rate for Asians was 3.6 percent - not seasonally adjusted.

Please do not get me wrong as I value your comments, which held some validity and perhaps will allow me to grow as a reader and writer. However, it will not make me more conscious of my surroundings and as my disclaimer clearly states, I am not responsible what wizardry-sorcely act my magical PC distributes. Furthermore, I will not stop writing what I deem important to me. Heck, I could die today and no one would know (or perhaps even care) that I was so strong or adamant about this thing or that. So I will not, I can not apologize. In the future, I can only suggest that you spend your time more wisely and try doing something for your community; pay attention to yours and your family’s future. In the mean time and in the between time, I can only hope and pray that both you and my brain are transformed and enlightened the next go around.

In short, here is my flimsy yet sincere apology to those that were offended and sing, Something so strong could (Should) carry us away…. I’m still in love with you. With that note, I leave you with my favorite Country tune from Lil' Troy’s album, "Sittin Fat Down South,"
.

To say the least, I want to thank you as I am glad someone, ANYONE reads my articles.


©Keeba Smith






Hankered Writer and Feared Compressor
K Smith is a columnist for Black Denver Speaks, an author, and social issues commentator

KSmith018@hotmail.com




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