We Are All Fishes Angling in a Simmering Lake
Title: We Are All Fishes Angling in a Simmering Lake
Medium: acrylic on canvas
Date: 2021
24″ x 30″
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My gallery space
My gallery space, Austin, TX.
NAME YOUR TEACHER
NAME YOUR TEACHER
Who taught you
that you must breathe?
Who taught you
that you must eat?
that you must crawl?
that you must walk?
that you must talk?
that you must listen?
Who taught you
that your culture is inferior?
My Husband Doesn’t Like Me
Angela:You said big is beautiful, prof,But my husband does not like me big.He says I am bigger than before we got marriedand I need to shed some weightor get liposuction.
Captive No More (III)
Captive No More (III)
7.
Music is the language of tragedy,
and dance, the vocabulary of trauma.
Silence, the death of feelings,
marks the beginning of madness.
After my great grandmother in vain
yelled the name of her son, Akin,
several times, and got no response,
she stepped outside and scanned
where he was playing,
and yelled his name again,
when she did not see him there
her stomach sank
because down in the pit of her womb
she knew he was gone.
The creative process
The creative process can be quite fun, walahi.
You give it what it takes.
Here I am making a new picture.
THE WORK IS DONE.
Done.
256 codes of Ifa completed.
I believe I do fly.
We all fly.
High above the clouds of limitations, we soar.