The voices of women are raising in an alarming quantity. Women poets. Women musicians. Women speakers. Women teachers. Women with messages that must be heard are stepping in the limelight beautifully.

For centuries, it’s been “a man’s world”. The tide is changing and the voices of women are rising with a message of harmony, sanity and peace. Violence by hand, gun, chemical, pure neglect is diminishing. We are happy people on Earth, again.

According to Herstory, things are as we make them. We make them peaceful. We make them harmonious. We make things from abundance that surrounds us. We are co-Creators with the Universe. It is ours to create within. We create happiness and peace.

Reframing His-story


IYPAD goes unnoticed by media


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Afro-Latin Voices

My Song for Our America– a Poetic Essay


He that hath an ear, let him hear THIS!

Originally posted on Ramblingroz's Blog:

I don’t call myself a poet, but yet I occasionally will write a poem. In honor of National Poetry Month, I will be publishing one or two of my works, and a couple of my daughter’s pieces (she IS a poet!).

This first submission is a spoken word piece I wrote for a show I performed in with my fellow Atlanta Drama Queens called Eclectic Noirisms or something like that, at Late Night at the Academy Theatre in Avondale, GA,  back in 2007.



Glorify with me all the  bravests, greatests and firsts

Paid with turned backs,  exhile, stripped medals and other inexplicable hurts.

We’ve finished up King’s memorial,, now let’s go on to the next.

Put statues in D.C. of David Walker, Harriet Tubman, Ida B. Wells, and, yes, Malcolm X.

I want national memorials for Colonels Tye, Turner and Brown

In fact ALL the fearless freedom fighters wh0 dared to take evil…

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Speaking Words

Today, I acknowledge that the words we speak create the world we live in. Up early, on FB 7:00 a.m., I saw this image that motivated and inspired me to write this post. I meditate on the blessings that I am sending to my father, his wife, my brother, my friends who live in Palm Beach County, FL.  May they all be supremely blessed with abundance, happiness, health and prosperity in all their days on Earth.  May this blessing extend to the entire human race so that consciousness is raised, today, because I have written these words here on this post on this blog.  I am ever appreciative of the POWER of WORDS to create phenomena in the ethers.


Beginning today. . .


New blog that you can share on about your career path and experiences.

Originally posted on Women Herstories:

No longer will I refer to March as Women’s HIStory Month. From today forward, March will be Women’s Herstory Month, for me. Will you join me in adding the WORD “herstory” to your computer’s dictionary?

Women have their own stories to tell that are not necessarily tied up with HIStory. You are welcomed and encouraged to comment on any post on this blog.


This is a call to ALL Women:

  • Mothers
  • Daughters
  • Sisters
  • Nieces
  • Teachers
  • Musicians
  • Doctors
  • Lawyers
  • Engineers
  • Cashiers
  • Secretaries
  • Professionals
  • Athletes
  • Writers, Authors, Poets, Composers

Let your VOICE be heard on this blog, if nowhere else!


Diva JC

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My Awakened Friend Judy Joy Jones



A musician friend of mine lives in New York City and tells me how many homeless people there are everywhere and how NYC reminds her more and more of Calcutta, India. People live in cardboard boxes, on bridges, in streets and everywhere.

I thought of Mayor Bloomberg and what an example he could make to try and house the homeless. I am wondering why mayors are paid: to do what? They allow their citizens to go hungry and die on streets.

I wrote this poem about the horrid suffering of the homeless because I couldn’t really believe that the mayor who is supposed to take care of the citizens of a city was not doing so.

We all go to sleep every night with the grim realities of the unimaginable suffering of homeless people in New York CIty — and most cities.



mayor bloomberg

is king for day

but could be

a god thru eternity

leading all

thru heavens doors

when he feeds

houses and tenderly

cares for the poor

all over the streets

of the city he keeps

reminding everyone

greatness is earned

by the deeds we do

each person we see

with no food or home

could be our mother father

sister and brother

whose only hope

is you and me

in one day

bloomberg could

wipe every tear away

with a few dollars

from the billions he saves

trading his title of king

for compassionate god

whose only goal

is the well being of all

isn’t that

what mayors are for?