UZURI na MWANGA
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Accompanied by a Yamaha G-50 classical MT is an intimate solo artist, with a homegrown rhythmic style on guitar. Whether playing original music or paying tribute to another artist, what prevails more powerfully than opposing forces can be felt on her journey. Unique renditions that cover the past indie folk alternative pop new wave rock music eras are catching up to present day.
A student also of the philosophy of yoga and teacher sometimes hopelessly devoted to a discipline basically aimed to balance and control body and mind for various modern and traditional purpose .. On a path to enlightenment and the attainment of various salvation or spiritual goals .. redemption, deliverance, liberation and freedom ..
Founder of UZURI na MWANGA. Karibu Jump in early and donate now. Your contribution builds the headquarters on Unguja of the Zanzibar archipelago in Tanzania, Africa.
20 26
O P E N M I C
iHeart The Grind
Toronto Muskoka
Hunters Bay Radio
Wed Jan 21 @ Muskoka Theatre
Freef’all 1st and 3rd SUN at the Piston and at the Pilot respectively
Free Times Tues nights
The Handle Bar Tues nights
Jane Street Speaks @ the end of the month
20 25
00000000 A O K Revised
20 24
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20 23
L I V E
If you saw her in the spring
you might have thought one or two things
On one hand she was in no shape no way near ready.
She bee-lined it too fast again only to crash
running on fading traces
long time gone self esteem
For whatever it was at the time she was sorry for it and she hoped that it was just a phase or best case scenario a breakdown before a breakthrough
It was all she could do to get up that morning and first thing start to get ready Knowing how long it could take to get just one thing done
There were no other distractions or directions
nothing else lined up on purpose
No phone no nothing only get up get dressed and go.
She had more than enough
time
a whole day
to accomplish this easy
I opened my eyes and I thought
prayed actually
dear God let me get there please
for seven thirty
20 10
A O K
A long time ago
Banned from writing on paper a blog was created except for being organized into pages of mostly short poetry not one long scroll like this. Now years later being in a spot again writing nothing short whatsoever ..
A few pages have been added to the old blog recently not quite like the original style or format, yet it continues to be refuge.
The blog was like space
a big transparent wall
no bricks or armor
upon which i could write
Where I could take a step back detached take a look at and see all the contents
Healed and for healing
writing on it like a string
Take a deep breath in
Going on repeat every meaning synonym and morpheme into a stream that goes from winding to waterfall and into an ocean or great sea of sentences that break up and crash as waves on the rocks with no end or comma emptying into vast open spaces calmly toward stillness in no mind until again one no longer identifies with any thought or thing
considered positive in general
a voice on the radio
a wave length compressed
a leak in the wire or tube
>——--—»»»»»»»——-—>
For how and why the personality developed as it did or did not.
For too long in and out of whack no balance off track in some way or other traumatic but didn't know it at the time relationship
succumbed to
unplugged from herself in the end
switched off
stitches split and stuffing out
For losing a great part of the will to live
her gifts fully like the rose
almost lost entirely
from giving
to giving up
Spokes and threads were replaced
recoveries happened
but I was never quite myself again
For the world and seeing how it works
and for how some people break ya
the head split
cotton on a stick
I am two eyes blinking on a rock
boggling fear and amazement
overwhelmed at the outset
startled by something the eyes cannot see
Wired to perceive
at least two sides
black and white
dark light
creator and destroyer
both to be always
to exist equally
as powerfully as the other
neither ever extinguished
>——--—»»»»»»»——-—>
What does it mean to alchemize yourself?
You change yourself from who you were to who you want to be — One who can achieve your potential and fulfill your purpose. One who can transmute fear and succeed.
>——--—»»»»»»»——-—>
Going back to a time when I banned myself from keeping a journal ….
It seemed the only answer solution strategy that might begin to make a dent in the same old and break through the narrative ..
Sincerely becoming outdated happily yet painfully growing slowly out of it bored of it frustrated at the stack —adding to it one journal like wood on top of the other ..
absorbed
by fear
hiding in the womb
everything makes sense now
what’s there to get over
make the switch
I couldn’t name the obstacle or do or be different. Racing blindly opposite of presence not yet able to let go or pin down the wire long enough to tame it… With it I would squeeze through the cracks in the walls or in the floor just as fast and in reverse to get out. At least aware of it was I looking for a way to split.
If I’m going to split let me split like (an) atom
wounded
warrior
breaking down
growing at the same time
Split am I like wood O lumber from a tree
Years later not that long ago finally I skimmed through the last of the journals for any gems.
A long time ago Y2K
I had burned some of them in the kitchen sink.
I lived in the top floor apartment of a three story house in Toronto.
Back on land after life at sea the city felt like home or somewhere close enough to it where I might find my way back to normal.
I found the studio Downward Dog and began taking yoga classes mostly with the late pioneer Diane Bruni several times a week.
A year later money was soon on the run and I started to work as a waitress at a nearby itatlian restaurant on St. Clair Ave. It didn’t last long. The manager was verbally abusive and disrespectrul, the owner was menacing and his father tried a totally unexpected sexual manoever with me in the basement of the establishment on a quick run down the stairs to refull soda. After I grabbed what i needed from the stock room i turned around and he was there.
I don’t remember much of the time in between that job and looking for another one ..
I started again at the Indiogo on Bloor and Yonge and waited to hear back from HMV and at the time a great Canadian outdoor retailer ..
Both doors opened ..
almost at the same time ..
.. went through one ….
10 years later
had to get out
Me on a one way down
No way near normal
Further away in fact
Wings won’t open
2012
Before I left I wrote songs.
During that trip and after
a few more.
About what broke ..
being released
Being more awake now
Having just been through it
I thought I could pull the other out ..
but later it would be me
my head
broken in three pieces
>——--—»»»
I remember the years i was in it
and how long it took to get out
never ending
expanding labyrinth
dark green and light
one could walk forever
looking for the way
This page and that blog are my light, a way in as an outlet, a portal or pathway a doorway a voice.
at some point I am out of the way and the message writes itself
at some point I listen and the music takes over
This page and that blog give access to all my heart, previously muted and unavailable.
That blog along with this page and medium are home and foundation for song music poetry narrative and draft unpublished to be refined alongside other finished work and media.
stone rolling slowly
moss with momentum
—-- - - — —-
In the quiet insulation of freshly fallen snow
a heart once on paper is planted online
From the journals lost wires like the native melancholic Sous La Pluie were saved. One of a few in this case one line written in French.
—-- - - — —-
UZURI na MWANGA
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